A present for my dear brother

The grand hall of the palace court was alight with chatters and whispers. Ministers and officials in embroidered robes whispered among themselves as the dust of the matters of the day settled in the room like a thick fog. Beyond the golden lattice curtains, the ladies of the court sat, observing from behind as King Alden, unlike his father, allowed royal ladies in authority to be present in the court.

The murmurs ceased, and all present rose to their feet as Alden entered the room. He was in deep, dark emeralds, black, from head to toe, yet the power he wore flowed like honey, tempered control. There was a deliberateness to his self-control as Alden strode and took his place upon the throne, gazing through sharp green eyes at the hall.

"Proceed with court," the herald, King Alden's personal attender, declared.

The court began with the first case that was brought forward in a report on strange individuals discovered near the kingdom's borders. An officer stepped forward, bowing low. "Your Majesty, we have apprehended a group of individuals claiming to be citizens of our kingdom. However, their dialect and customs differ from our own. It raises suspicion of foreign infiltration."

Alden's fingers tapped quietly on the armrest of his throne as he pondered the issue. "What steps have you taken to verify their reports?"

"We have questioned them, your majesty," the officer replied, a little trembling in his voice. "But their statements contradict one another. We believe them to be spies who intend to create dissension."

The room grew thick with murmurs. The ministers looked at one another uncertainly.

"Then it is not certainty, but suspicion," Alden noted, voice measured. "Do you have evidence to support your accusation?" 

The officer hesitated. "Not yet, Your Majesty. However, their presence coincides with reports of increased theft and unrest in the border regions."

Another minister, a wiry man with graying hair, stepped forward. "Sire, if I may," he began, "it would be wise to detain these individuals until further investigations are complete. If they are indeed spies, releasing them would be a grave mistake."

Alden's gaze sharpened. "And if they are citizens wrongfully detained? What message does that send to our people?"

The court was silent, as if it knew the fragile balance Alden was trying to maintain between his desire for justice and his need to be wise.

"Assign a deputy to oversee this matter," Alden finally commanded, turning to the officer. "Conduct thorough investigations, but treat them with the dignity afforded to any subject of this kingdom until their guilt is proven."

The officer bowed. "As you command, Your Majesty."

The following case involved thefts that plagued the outer regions. Investigation deputy, a stout man with an air of weariness, stood forward. "Your Majesty, thefts have risen alarmingly. My team is stretched to the breaking point as most cases are still open. I humbly request some more apprentices to aid our efforts." Alden leaned back a little, looking at the man. "How many are still unresolved?"

"Thirty-seven, Your Majesty," he replied with an apologetic tone.

"And you want help from untrained apprentices?" Alden sounded skeptical.

The deputy cast his eyes down. "With some direction, they could conduct petty investigations that would leave the senior officers free to work on greater issues."

Alden considered the request. "You will have your apprentices," he said at last. "But ensure they are properly trained before assigning them tasks. Incompetence will not be tolerated." 

"Thank you, Your Majesty," the deputy said, bowing deeply.

As the cases went on, Alden kept his concentration, listening intently and giving measured responses. But there was a tension in his posture as he shifted on his throne. Herald looked at him and said nothing; he knew that the reason for Alden's stress was no one other than his brother.

When the last matter was concluded, Alden straightened on his throne. He glanced briefly toward the Queen Dowager, hidden behind the curtain, before speaking to the court.

"There is one final announcement," he said, his voice firm, yet somehow tinged with something unreadable by the people present there in the court. 

The ministers leaned forward, knowing something of significance lay in the words that would be uttered.

But before Alden could proceed to continue his announcement, heavy wooden doors creaked open from the court, admitting a figure. It strode in slowly but had the commanding presence to make his entry almost both magnetic and unsettling .

Lucien.

This was that estranged prince, who came in carrying a bottle of wine slung between his fingers. A smirk danced on his lips. Dark waves tumbled across his forehead, and his emerald blue eyes glinted with mischief and defiance. Disheveled as he looked, he had an elegance about him, an aura of nobility that once had defined him as the most eligible man in the kingdom.

"Forgive my tardiness," Lucien drawled, bowing theatrically. "I trust I haven't missed anything important?"

The court erupted into whispers, the ministers exchanging uneasy glances. Alden's jaw tightened, but he said nothing as Lucien made his way to the front, his smirk growing wider with each step.

As he came into the throne room, he extended the bottle to a servant with overdone deference. "A present for my dear brother," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Alden took a deep breath. "Rise, Lucien," he said, his voice hard. 

Lucien stood up, his sneer not faltering for a moment. "And to what do I owe the privilege of this invitation?"

"There is a matter concerning you," Alden replied, his tone clipped. 

Lucien arched a brow. "Concerning me? How unusual." 

Alden ignored the jab, and without wasting even a moment, he announced. "You are to take a concubine." 

The court fell silent. The ministers exchanged stunned glances, and even the Queen Dowager stiffened behind the curtain. She knew her son's expressions well; they had rage in their eyes.

Lucien's smirk vanished, replaced by a look of incredulity. "A concubine?" he repeated, his voice low.

"Yes," Alden said sternly. "You will wed Lady Liora of Mirals. She's been selected by the Queen Dowager and ratified by the crown."

Lucien laughed a harsh, gaunt sound. "Just as I thought. One hears you make all those decisions for me behind closed doors."

"This isn't about you," Alden said, his tolerance thinning. "It has to do with the crown's stability."

"Stability?" Lucien's voice rose. "You think forcing me to take a concubine will solve the kingdom's problems? Or is this just another way to remind me of my place?"

"Enough, not a word more," Alden snapped, his voice echoing through the hall. "This is not a request, Lucien. It is an order."

Before Lucien could respond, the herald's voice rang out: "Presenting Lady Liora of Mirals."

And with the grand doors of the place open, into the hall stepped Liora, her lavender-coloured dress shimmering golden in the torchlight which cast on her face with a gentle veil an otherworldly mystery to surround her slight features. Graceful but hesitant, was the gait of she who now moved, yet her hands trembled gripping the folds of her fine dress.

Lucien turned to look at her; his face was expressionless. The ministers leaned forward, their whispers growing louder once more.

Liora stopped a few paces from the throne and knelt, head bowed.

The announcer began, "Lady Liora of Mirals is hereby presented as the concubine of His Royal Highness, Prince Lucien—"

"Stop."

Lucien's voice cut through the hall like a blade.

"I refuse," he said, his tone resolute. 

The court fell silent, all eyes on him. 

"You do not have the authority to refuse," Alden said, his voice cold.

Lucien turned back to Liora, his eyes penetrating. "You don't even know what they're asking you to do," he said quietly, voice sharp. "Do you understand what sort of man they're going to have you marry?"

Liora didn't say anything, her head bent over, her fingers gripping at her dress with a taut hold. 

"There is enough. This subject is closed," Alden ordered. "The ruling has been spoken."

Lucien's eyes flared with anger, but his lips were sealed. Instead, he spun on his heel, wanting to storm out of the hall; his gaze moved across the large hall.

While Liora was still kneeling there, her heart hammering in her chest, she was feeling the weight of every gaze on her, the whispers of the court like a storm swirling around her; she knew it was they who were talking about.

Behind the curtain sat the Queen Dowager, who closed her eyes; her heart was heavy with regret. She had hoped to bring her sons closer, but now she feared she had only pushed them further apart.