Shackles of judgement.

The dungeon was suffocating. The thick, damp air clung to the walls of small rooms, carrying the stench of rot and damp stone. Shackles rattled in the distance as prisoners shifted in their cells, their voices reduced to hushed whispers and occasional groans. The flickering torchlight outside the cells barely illuminated the cramped space, leaving shadows to stretch and dance along the cold walls.

Kael sat with his back against the rough stone, his wrists resting on his knees, still marked by the grip of the guards who had dragged him here. His mind raced, not with regret for striking Alden, but with confusion.

How did I do that?, he mumbled. He had fought before, childhood scuffles, and moments of anger—but never had he lashed out with such force, such raw, unbridled aggression. His hands clenched into fists.

"Do not fight, kael." His mother's voice echoed in his head.

The clinking of armor interrupted his thoughts. Footsteps, deliberate and light, echoed down the corridor. He didn't look up at first, assuming it was just another guard.

But then, a familiar scent reached him. A floral, tinged with something warm, something delicate.

He raised his head just as Princess Lyria appeared before his cell, her cloak swaying slightly as she stopped in front of the iron bars. The torchlight cast a golden glow on her auburn hair, but her expression was heavy.

Kael exhaled sharply and turned his head away.

"So, you've come to see your work?" His voice was flat, but there was an edge to it, restrained anger simmering beneath his words.

Lyria frowned, stepping closer, gripping the bars as she studied him. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

Kael scoffed but kept his gaze fixed on the damp stone wall. "Of course not, Your Highness. You only made me fight in front of a crowd, knowing I couldn't refuse. And now I'm in a cell."

She flinched at his words, guilt flashing in her brown eyes. "I—" she hesitated, then sighed. "I didn't think Alden would go this far."

Kael finally turned to her, his fiery eyes piercing through the dim light. "Neither did I."

Silence stretched between them. Lyria's grip on the bars tightened. "I will speak at the judiciary."

Kael's expression didn't change, but his fingers twitched slightly.

Lyria continued, her voice firmer this time. "This was my fault. If I hadn't set up that match, none of this would've happened. I will take responsibility."

Kael studied her, searching for deception, but found none. Still, a bitter smile tugged at his lips. "And you think they'll listen to you?"

She hesitated. "They have to." she finally said.

Kael shook his head. "You're a princess, but you're still young. Your words won't change Alden's father's influence."

Lyria clenched her jaw. "I have to try."

Kael's gaze softened for a brief moment, but he quickly hardened his expression again. "Do whatever you want. I don't care." He turned his back to her, signaling the conversation was over.

Lyria lingered for a moment before stepping back, glancing at him one last time before walking away. The torchlight flickered as her figure disappeared into the corridor.

Next day at the grand hall of the judiciary known as the High Tribunal was filled with tension. Nobles and officials lined the room, their embroidered robes signifying their rank and power. Alden's father, Lord Varek, stood at the forefront, his dark robes flowing as he addressed the court. His sharp, hawk-like eyes bore into Lyria with cold fury.

"My son lies in the infirmary, bruised and battered by that commoner," he seethed. His words dripped with venom, and murmurs rippled through the chamber.

Lyria stood tall, her hands clenched at her sides. "With all due respect, Lord Varek, the fight was not one-sided."

Varek scoffed. "One sided ?!. It's my son who is lying on bed right now !!"

Kael, standing between two guards, said nothing. His gaze flickered toward Lyria as she stepped forward, her voice unwavering.

"I was the one who issued the challenge. If anyone is to blame, it is me."

Gasps echoed through the hall. The judges—three elder figures in crimson robes exchanged glances. One of them, a gray-bearded man, leaned forward. "You claim full responsibility, Your Highness?"

Lyria's chin lifted. "Yes."

Varek slammed his hand against the wooden podium. "This is outrageous! A princess siding with a mere commoner? You disgrace your own blood."

Kael's jaw tightened, but he remained silent.

One of the judges raised a hand for silence. "Regardless, we must assess the facts."

Lyria took a steadying breath. "Then I request permission to visit the infirmary and verify Alden's injuries."

Another ripple of murmurs spread through the hall. The judges exchanged looks before one of them finally nodded. "Granted."

Later at evening, lyria prepared herself to visit the royal infirmary which was known as the Healers' Hall. As she approached it was quiet except for the soft murmur of the attendants tending to patients. Lyria strode past the beds until she reached Alden's cot.

Her eyes were in disbelief but also oblivious to Alden's behavior. Instead of being bedridden, Alden lounged on the cot, laughing with his friends, his so-called "wounds" nowhere to be seen.

"—And then Kael actually thought he had a chance," one of his friends sneered.

Alden smirked. "That was the plan. Let the idiot think he won, make a scene, and have him locked away."

Lyria's heart pounded with anger. She stepped forward, her voice cold. "So this was all a lie."

The group froze. Alden's smirk faltered as he turned to see the princess standing before them, arms crossed.

"Your Highness—" he startled, but she cut him off.

"I hope you're enjoying yourself," she said, her voice sharp and cold. "Because when the judiciary hears of this, it won't be Kael in chains. it will be you."

Alden paled. His friends exchanged nervous glances before slinking away, leaving him to face her wrath alone

A day passed without any progress as Kael was still locked up in the dungeon. He tossesd and turn as the night drew near. Hearing his cell mates whimpered around the corners maybe from bruises they got from the guards beating or heart renching complains. He barely slept that day.

Next morning arrived, kael sat in his cell, exhausted, hungry, and lost in his thoughts.

Then, the door creaked open.

A guard stepped forward. "You're free to go."

Kael blinked. "What?"

The guard didn't answer, merely unlocking his shackles. As he stepped outside, he saw Lyria, waiting with arms crossed, watching him carefully.

Kael hesitated before speaking. "You got me out?"

Lyria nodded. "Yes."

Kael exhaled, rubbing his sore wrists. "Thank you. But why...?"

She simply nodded without saying anything. Kael's expression darkened. "But that doesn't change anything." he said.

Lyria looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Kael's gaze was heavy. "You started this, lyria. And now, because of you, I've fought and—" his voice faltered before he exhaled sharply. 

For the first time, Lyria saw it, the conflict in his eyes, the way he clenched his fists, as if restraining something deep inside.

She couldn't be able to let herself say anything.