YOU WILL NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN

[Author's note: If you haven't read both the synopsis and prologue already, I humbly request that you do so to gain a better understanding of the subsequent chapters and not get lost. Thank you!]

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Queen Thalia's pregnancy had been a success, it seemed, and the child was born right in time for the sun to fall.

By the time Carabosse, the elven goddess of temptation, was readied and dressed in a gown of midnight silk with folds that shimmered like starless skies, it was time for all her temptation to be let loose on Sylvandar.

She willed herself to the king's castle and then focused. The magic pointed in the direction of a child, directing her to what would be her's and her sisters' in exactly 18 years. But the direction was more precise, the nearer she was. She got the bearing and willed herself to the new location.

Carabosse materialized in the middle of a grand hallway, filled with celebration. Jesters tumbled and cartwheeled, their bells jingling merrily. Musicians played lively tunes on lutes and pipes, while courtiers twirled in elaborate dances. The air was filled with laughter and joy.

Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd as they noticed the goddess's presence. The music screeched to a halt, jesters froze mid-act, and dancers stumbled to a stop. All eyes turned to Carabosse, whose emerald gaze swept across the room.

"Well," she said, her voice carrying effortlessly through the silent hall. "Don't let me interrupt your... quaint little celebration."

The crowd parted before her, pressing themselves against the walls. Guards, who moments ago stood tall and valiant, now cowered in her presence. Their weapons were lowered as if they had forgotten how to use them. Carabosse strode forward with each step echoing ominously.

She approached the door to the royal chambers, where two guards stood rigid with fear. With a mere arch of her eyebrow, they scrambled aside, allowing her unimpeded access.

'They amuse themselves with the illusion of protection,' Carabosse mused. 'As if mortal steel could deter us, his wives-to-be.'

Carabosse peered through the window where King Galahad and Queen Thalia held their firstborn together. Beside them were expensive little dresses, teddy bears, and blue balloons that let her know-

Their firstborn was a son. Carabosse's magic purred in her veins, already imagining the king's horror when she took him the day he came of age.

'Tradition would haunt him until the day he dies, and the little boy would still remain ours,' Carabosse thought, her full lips curving into a smirk. The dark sheen of her lipstick gleamed against her warm olive skin, highlighting the subtle curve of her mouth. 'Of course, my sisters and I would keep him safe and honor the tradition enough to never harm him. We'll make him into a befitting husband for us.'

Truth be told, she wouldn't have been capable of harming a creature pledged to them in the same way she wanted to punish his father for trying to undo centuries old tradition.

But King Galahad wouldn't know that, would he? To him, the elven septennial binding tradition was madness.

As if he felt Carabosse's presence, Galahad's head abruptly snapped up, and the blood drained from his face as soon as he saw her.

His mouth fell open in a kind of horror that amused her, and she inclined her head with a small smile. Galahad managed to leave his wife, who seemed all too happy to rest with the child that she would be taking care of for seven elven goddesses.

Of course, she knew that she was merely a surrogate now, but like her husband, she wasn't willing to embrace tradition, much less lose her firstborn to it.

Carabosse moved behind the door where the queen would not have to suffer her appearance. This pact was not with her.

No, it was with the king who walked out the door and stared at her in a panic. "Revered Goddess, you can't do that. You'll give someone a heart attack one day. What the bloody hell are you doing here, and how did you find me?"

Carabosse smiled a calming smile that didn't quite reach her eyes before she answered, deliberately and slowly. "Your firstborn is a beautiful boy."

The king stared at her for a long while, and, of course, he didn't even comprehend at first. He had thought it a formality, hadn't he? But then his lips fell open, and he choked out, "You can't mean it. Here? Now?"

Carabosse waved her hand in exasperation, enjoying King Galahad's fall to madness while it happened before her eyes. "Of course not here and now. Did you not heed the details of our tradition at all? It doesn't happen until he comes of age. That's 18 years from now."

The king's panic was fast-evolving into that other emotion of desperation. Anger. "You will never take him. You will not have him. You will never even see him again. I revoke any and all invitations to my castle for you, Carabosse, and your coven of cougars. Fuck tradition."

Carabosse inclined her head politely and quietly said, "I am saddened to hear it. It is a rare thing when I get to enjoy another's company, and I enjoyed yours, King Galahad."

Perhaps if Galahad had stopped to consider it, he might have realized that Carabosse had been undeterred by the rest of his words.

As it was, he snarled at her. "Get the fuck out, Carabosse, and I never want to see you again. I will lock him away from you if I have to lock him away from everyone...if I fucking have to. Leave."

That was all rather rudely said to the elven goddess who would be taking his son from him, but who was she to judge? It was inhumane to rob a parent of their first joy. Besides that, she had no power over the child until his 18th birthday. She nodded again. "As you wish."

Carabosse walked past the window one more time to look at him through the glass, curious to her own reaction to that child. She was involuntarily purring. It was 'happiness' in her bloodstream.

'I would let him play his little game.' Carabosse thought. 'His threat is to shelter his son if we didn't stay away, and my sister's and I wanted him sheltered and protected, safe and well taken care of... for us.'

She decided that a little glimpse of her here and there when king Galahad was out and about would do the trick. And with that, she willed herself away.

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Since then, she started stalking him, teasing him with little sights of her watching while he ate with generals, emperors and other kings. While he made deals and while he got so much as a coffee.

Galahad was true to his word and locked his son away in his pretty castle, like a prince in a tower that Carabosse and her sisters could not enter for the time being.

Royal tutors homeschooled the prince in all things, and King Galahad never allowed him to leave the castle. It was all very excessive, very insane.

Prince Ashen had no friends, except for very close royal family members, and even during the daytime hours, he was not allowed to so much as go and buy a cookie. People do very insane things out of desperation. King Galahad went fiercely insane with Carabosse tormenting him.

It was quite a bit of fun watching what he would do, all for such futility. He had already given him to them, as the tradition was tied by an unbreakable pact.

No command would keep the elven goddesses of lust from what was theirs by tradition, be it a rebellion or powerful elven magic.

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