The Queen and the Forgotten King

Chapter 8: The Queen and the Forgotten King

A game of Tricksters

The fire burned low, a dying thing of orange and smoldering heat. The walls of the study loomed like watchful sentinels, casting twisted shadows that writhed with every flicker of the flame. At the heart of the room sat mother and son — Selene and Noctis — locked in a chess game that was anything but simple.

The air was heavy with something unspoken. Tension. Willpower. Control.

Selene's pale fingers, delicate as a glass blade, traced the curve of her rook. "You've grown quieter lately," she murmured, her voice a whisper of silk. "I wonder if it's because you've begun to think more like a predator."

Noctis did not look up. His silver eyes stayed fixed on the board, analyzing, planning. "Is that not what you intended?"

Selene smiled faintly. "Yes. But not this quickly."

Her fingers slid her rook forward, threatening his knight. "Check."

Noctis's hand froze, his grip on his queen tightening slightly. That whisper — soft, subtle — brushed against his mind like a cool breath.

Move your knight.

The influence was stronger now. She wasn't merely suggesting; she was commanding. Noctis could feel the weight of her will pressing against his like unseen chains.

But Noctis's mind did not yield.

He inhaled softly and did something his mother did not expect.

He pushed back.

"Withdraw your influence."

The effect was subtle but potent. Selene's breath hitched, and her fingers curled slightly as she felt the faint pressure against her own will — like a serpent coiling around her throat.

Selene's gaze lifted sharply. "You're resisting."

Noctis smiled coldly. "I'm adapting."

A crackle of fire. The shadows in the room seemed to bend unnaturally as both mother and son began subtly exerting their powers, cloaking their influence beneath words and intent.

Selene's voice lowered, her tone razor-sharp. "You presume you can unseat me?"

Noctis leaned back, his smile unbothered. "I don't need to unseat you. I only need you to doubt your own strength."

Selene froze.

The flicker of disbelief in her eyes did not go unnoticed.

Selene's composure did not shatter — but the subtle slip in her control was all Noctis needed.

"I wonder," Noctis mused softly, his voice venom-laced silk. "If I pressed hard enough… would you accidentally reveal how deeply you fear me?"

Selene's gaze darkened. "Careful, child."

"Why?" Noctis's tone turned predatory. "Afraid I'll become what House Erevar was?"

Selene's hand clenched around her queen. "You don't yet understand the burden of wielding perception. That power corrodes, Noctis. It rots the mind until you no longer know truth from illusion."

"And yet you use it so effortlessly," Noctis countered.

Selene's smile was cold. "I control it. It does not control me."

Noctis leaned forward, his voice a whisper of knives. "And yet… you still tried to control my thoughts just now."

Silence.

Selene did not answer — but the tightening of her jaw was answer enough. Noctis had struck a nerve.

Carefully, Noctis moved his queen, threatening her king. "Check."

Selene exhaled slowly, masking the subtle shiver that ran down her spine. "Your growth is unnatural. You realize that, don't you?"

Noctis smiled faintly. "Or perhaps I'm simply becoming what you feared."

Her eyes narrowed. "And what is that?"

His voice turned to ice. "A king in the making."

Selene's hand hovered over her rook, but Noctis's voice slid into her mind like silk-coated poison.

"Move your king."

Her breath caught.

Noctis felt it — the first crack in her control. His influence, once subtle, now slithered like a serpent into her mind, testing her defenses. He didn't push too hard — only enough to make her aware of his growing strength.

Selene's fingers tightened.

"Move your king."

The thought bled through her defenses like venom. Selene's hand began to drift toward the king — but she stopped it, her will tightening in defiance.

Her gaze snapped up. "You dare?"

Noctis only smiled.

"I'm simply practicing what you taught me."

A sharp, suffocating silence fell between them. The flames seemed colder. The shadows longer.

Selene's voice turned deadly. "You're not ready to control me."

"And yet you hesitated," Noctis said softly. "Even for a moment. I felt it."

Selene's composure cracked. "I will not be undone by my own son."

Noctis chuckled darkly. "Your son?" His gaze turned predatory. "Or the heir of House Erevar?"

Silence.

Selene's control faltered — and Noctis felt it. Like a serpent finding a gap in its prey's armor, he pushed.

"You built me for this, Mother," he murmured, his voice haunting. "You fed me doctrine. You turned my mind into a weapon. Did you think I wouldn't turn it against you?"

Selene's hand trembled.

For the first time… she felt it.

Noctis's power was no longer a flicker. It was a devouring inferno.

Selene's voice cut through the air like a whip. "Enough."

A surge of sheer will burst from her — raw, oppressive, and suffocating. Noctis felt it crush against his mind like a storm.

"Yield."

The command was absolute.

Noctis gritted his teeth as his thoughts wavered. For a brief moment, his hand trembled over his bishop, his mother's influence forcing his will into submission.

But then… Noctis exhaled.

And something in him snapped.

"Break."

The pressure recoiled violently — and to Selene's horror, her own influence was turned back against her. Her mind was flooded with invasive whispers — doubt, hesitation, fear. It was not brute force. It was subtle. Poisonous. Corrosive.

Selene gasped, staggering back as Noctis's influence gnawed at her like a curse.

"Impossible…"

Noctis smiled. "Not impossible. Just… inherited."

Selene's eyes burned with rage — but behind it, genuine fear. "You're becoming too dangerous."

"And you're losing your grip."

Selene lunged, her voice a guttural snarl. "I will tear that power from you if I must!"

Noctis laughed softly. "You can try."

The tension became unbearable. The chessboard sat forgotten as both mother and son stared at each other — predator and predator — wills clashing in pure, suffocating malice.

Selene's voice broke first. "You think you've won this game?"

Noctis smiled thinly. "No."

He reached across the board, his fingers brushing the king.

"I've simply made you doubt yourself."

And with that, he slowly tipped her king to the floor.

Checkmate.

Selene's breath caught, her composure in ruins. Her mind still reeled from the lingering sting of his influence.

"You think this victory makes you my equal?" she hissed.

Noctis's voice was cold and final. "No. It makes me your successor."

Selene stared at him, her blood running cold.

And for the first time… she realized she had made a mistake.

As Noctis stood, his gaze locked with his mother's. The pressure of her will still lingered — but now it was fractured.

"You feared House Erevar's resurgence," Noctis murmured. "But what you failed to consider was that you were feeding it."

Selene's voice cracked. "I made you to be a dagger."

Noctis smiled coldly. "And I chose to become the hand that wields it."

Selene's throat tightened. "You'll destroy yourself."

Noctis turned toward the door, his voice distant. "No. I'll destroy them. And when I do…" His silver eyes gleamed coldly. "I'll make sure you realize you created the very thing you feared."

Selene's composure finally shattered.

As the door closed behind him, her trembling voice whispered.

"What have I done?"

The door closed behind Noctis with a heavy, final thud. The suffocating tension of the room clung to him like a second skin, but he did not falter. His composure was a brittle thing — held together by sheer force of will.

Step. Step. Step.

His polished boots echoed against the marble floors as he made his way back to his private study. His mind still hummed with the lingering remnants of his confrontation with his mother. The raw power he had wielded — no, unleashed — against her.

It felt… intoxicating.

And terrifying.

The moment he crossed into his study, the tension broke. He closed the door behind him and exhaled sharply, his hand bracing against the polished wood. The control — the cold, precise calculation that fueled him — was slipping. His pulse thrummed like a war drum, and his power, still seething like a beast uncaged, refused to settle.

"Calm," he murmured, his voice raw.

The shadows in the room, once dormant, now coiled unnaturally, responding to his will. His influence bled from him — the same subtle, corrosive force he had turned against his mother. It seeped into the walls, curling around the flickering flame in the hearth like black smoke.

He gritted his teeth, forcing his power back under control.

Breathe. Focus.

The power resisted — it did not wish to be contained. For a brief moment, Noctis realized he could push it further, far beyond what he had ever attempted before. If he willed it hard enough, he could break more than just his mother's defenses.

I could break her mind itself.

The thought sickened him.

"Stop."

He stumbled toward his desk, gripping its edge until his knuckles turned white. His gaze fell upon his reflection in the glass of the study window. His own silver eyes looked foreign — sharp, predatory, and brimming with a power he was not sure he could still control.

And then… it hit him.

The words he had spoken to his mother.

'I'll destroy them. And when I do, I'll make sure you realize you created the very thing you feared.'

His stomach turned violently.

"By the gods…" he whispered, his voice cracking.

He had meant it. Every word. In his desperation to prove his strength, he had allowed himself to sink into the very malice his mother had warned him about. And worse… he had turned it against her.

He had broken her.

"No, no, no…" His breath came fast, erratic. He sank into the chair behind his desk, his hands threading through his hair as the weight of his actions came crashing down. He had seen the horror in Selene's eyes. Not just fear — but something deeper. Grief.

You turned my mind into a weapon. Did you think I wouldn't turn it against you?

The words tasted like ash now.

He had wanted to hurt her — and he did.

A shuddering breath escaped him as he tried to rein in his power. "What have I done…?"

The shadows in the room began to recede, sensing his internal collapse. His influence — once sharp and predatory — now felt heavy. His own mind felt unclean, as if it still reeked of the venom he had used against his mother.

His hand trembled as he poured himself a glass of wine from the decanter. He needed something — anything — to ground himself. His mind was spinning with the magnitude of his own cruelty.

You were trying to protect yourself.

The justification tasted hollow. Was that all it was? Defense? Or had something darker within him enjoyed turning his mother's will against her? The power — the control — it had felt right.

And that terrified him.

"No…" he murmured weakly. "I'm not like her. I'm not like…"

House Erevar.

His mother's bloodline — the very thing the empire feared. And he had just proved why.

The wine glass cracked in his grip as his power flared again. His reflection in the window twisted — his face briefly warped into something monstrous, his smile too sharp, his eyes too cold.

He staggered back from the desk, the glass shattering at his feet. "Stop it," he hissed, his breath ragged. "Stop this."

But his power did not subside. His mind — still steeped in the lingering influence of his mother — now battled against itself. The predator within him, the one that had tasted power, wanted more.

And the boy who had once longed for his mother's affection?

He was suffocating.

Hours passed. The fire in his study dimmed, and Noctis still sat slumped in his chair, his head in his hands. His mind replayed every moment of the confrontation — from his mother's quiet command to his final, damning words.

And the look in her eyes when he broke her will.

Gods… she was afraid of me.

A quiet knock came at his door.

"Noctis?"

It was Valen, his steward. Noctis swallowed thickly, his throat raw. "Not now."

A pause. "…As you wish." Footsteps retreated.

Noctis exhaled shakily. His gaze returned to his trembling hand. It no longer looked like his own — it looked like something monstrous. A hand capable of shattering minds and warping perception.

This is what House Erevar was.

And now he was becoming it.

"No," he muttered bitterly. "I refuse."

But the voice in his mind — subtle and cold — whispered:

You already are.

A sudden wave of nausea overtook him. He rose unsteadily, crossing the room toward his door. He needed air. Clarity. Distance. He could still feel his mother's fragmented will pressing against his own, and it made his skin crawl.

As he opened the door, Valen was still there, concern lining his features.

"My lord?"

"…I need to see my mother."

Valen hesitated. "…She requested not to be disturbed."

Guilt carved into Noctis's gut. "Please. I need to…" He exhaled shakily. "…I need to apologize."

Valen hesitated only a moment before stepping aside. "Very well."

The corridor outside his mother's chamber felt colder than it should have. The influence she once wielded over the house now felt fractured — weakened. And he had done that.

His hand trembled as he knocked softly on her door. "Mother…?"

Silence.

"…I know you don't want to see me." His voice cracked slightly. "But… I need to apologize."

A beat of silence. Then — "Come."

Noctis swallowed the dread in his throat and entered.

Selene sat by the window, her back to him. She looked smaller than he remembered — her composure frayed. Her shoulders were stiff, but her voice remained steady.

"…What do you have to say, Noctis?"

His throat tightened. "…I'm sorry. For what I did."

A bitter laugh escaped her. "For proving you can break my mind?"

He flinched. "…For letting it consume me." His voice cracked. "I didn't mean those words. I was angry, and I—"

"You meant them." She turned slightly, her eyes colder. "And that frightens you, doesn't it?"

Noctis looked away. "…Yes."

Silence hung heavy before she spoke again. "…Good."

His gaze snapped to hers. "Good?"

"If you ever lose that fear, Noctis… you will become what House Erevar once was. And I will have no choice but to destroy you myself."

The weight of her words crushed him.

"…I understand."

Selene's voice softened. "…But it is also proof you're ready."

Noctis froze. "…Ready?"

Her gaze hardened. "You just proved you can break a mind like House Erevar once did." A faint, bitter smile touched her lips. "Now… prove you have the strength not to."

Noctis swallowed hard — and for the first time, he feared the king he was becoming.