Shadows of the Throne

The palace was suffocating.

Xypheron had spent months on the battlefield, where every moment was life or death, where the cold steel of his sword and the heat of combat were the only truths that mattered. But here, within these golden walls, the battle was different—one fought with whispers, with veiled threats, with schemes wrapped in silk and poison.

The court had changed in his absence. Or perhaps, he had changed.

Seated on his throne, the king watched him carefully. The nobles, the advisors, the sycophants—they all gathered in the great hall, waiting for his next move. Waiting to see if the Unholy Prince, the warrior who had conquered the battlefield, could navigate the war of politics.

Vexaria stood at his side, her posture rigid, her eyes sharp. She had never belonged in this world of courtiers and lies, and yet she remained—because where he went, she went.

"Your victory has strengthened the kingdom," one of the council members spoke, a man draped in velvet, his tone smooth but his eyes calculating. "But we must be careful. Power invites enemies, and those who once feared us may now seek to test our limits."

Xypheron leaned back, his fingers tapping against the armrest of his seat. "And what do you suggest?"

"Marriages. Alliances," another noble chimed in. "Now that the war is over, it is time to solidify our strength through unity."

The implication was clear.

Vexaria stiffened beside him, but her face remained unreadable. She knew how this worked. She knew what they were suggesting.

Xypheron's jaw tightened. He had fought for this kingdom, shed blood for it, and now they wanted to use him as a political pawn.

"Is that what you think I am?" Xypheron's voice was cold, sharp. "A piece to be moved across the board for the sake of convenience?"

The council fell silent.

The king finally spoke. "You are a prince. Your duty does not end with the battlefield."

Xypheron met his father's gaze. "And what of my choices?"

The king's lips curled into the smallest hint of a smirk. "A ruler's choices are dictated by the needs of the kingdom."

Silence stretched between them.

Xypheron could feel the weight of expectation pressing down on him, the eyes of the court watching, waiting to see if he would comply, if he would become the obedient son, the perfect prince.

But he was done being a pawn.

He rose to his feet, his voice steady, final. "The kingdom is mine to protect, and I will decide how best to secure its future. This conversation is over."

Without another word, he turned and strode out of the chamber.

Vexaria followed without hesitation, her presence a steady force beside him.

The battle was won. But the war for the throne had only just begun.