The Chosen Pervert

Chapter 17: The King's Castle

We spent three days gathering information.

Three days of watching guard rotations, mapping patrol routes, identifying weak points in the castle's defenses.

Three days of planning.

And on the fourth night, we made our move.

"Remember," Kira whispered as we crouched in the shadows near the castle's eastern wall. "Quiet. Quick. No unnecessary risks."

"Grok understands," Grok rumbled, his massive form hunched beside me. "Grok be quiet like mouse."

I exchanged a glance with Aldric.

This is going to be a disaster.

But we didn't have a choice. The King wasn't going to just let us use the portal. We had to sneak in, reach it, and get through before anyone noticed.

Simple.

Yeah, right.

Lyra's bear, Kael, stayed behind—too large, too conspicuous. Lyra looked pained to leave him, but she nodded and followed us toward the wall.

Borin had his warhammer strapped to his back. Sszareth carried his mace. Aldric had his staff.

And I had my magic.

Let's do this.

The first part went smoothly.

Kira scaled the wall with ease, her movements silent and fluid. She dropped a rope, and one by one, we climbed.

Borin grunted as he hauled himself up. Sszareth moved with surprising grace for someone in armor. Aldric was slower but steady.

And then it was Grok's turn.

"Grok climb now," he announced—loudly.

"Shh!" I hissed. "Quiet!"

"Oh. Right. Grok be quiet."

He grabbed the rope.

And the entire wall shook.

I froze, my heart hammering.

Fuck.

Grok pulled himself up, his massive hands gripping the stone. Chunks of mortar crumbled and fell. The rope creaked ominously under his weight.

"Grok almost there," he whispered—which was still louder than a normal person's speaking voice.

"Just—just get up here," I muttered.

He hauled himself over the edge, landing with a thud that made the entire walkway tremble.

A guard twenty feet away turned, his eyes widening.

"Hey! Who—"

Kira was on him in an instant, her dagger flashing. The guard crumpled silently.

"Move," she hissed. "Now."

We ran.

The castle's interior was a maze of corridors and staircases.

Kira led the way, her movements precise and confident. We followed, keeping low, keeping quiet.

Well, most of us.

"Why we hide?" Grok asked as we pressed ourselves against a wall, waiting for a patrol to pass.

"Because we don't want them to see us," I whispered.

"But Grok strong. Grok can fight."

"Yes, but there are a lot of them, and we're trying to avoid fighting."

He frowned, clearly confused. "Why avoid fight?"

"Because—" I stopped, exhaling slowly. "Just... trust me, okay?"

"Okay. Grok trust Wyatt."

The patrol passed, and we moved again.

We made it two more corridors before disaster struck.

Grok, trying to be stealthy, crouched low as we moved through a narrow hallway.

And his shoulder caught a decorative suit of armor.

It toppled.

The crash was deafening.

"Grok sorry!" he said—loudly.

"s**t," Kira muttered.

Footsteps echoed from every direction.

"They're coming!" Lyra said, nocking an arrow.

"Defensive positions!" Aldric barked.

We formed a circle, backs together, as guards poured into the hallway from both ends.

Ten. Twenty. Thirty.

Fuck.

"Stand down!" one of them shouted, his sword raised. "You're surrounded!"

"We don't want to fight!" I called out. "We just need to—"

"Surrender your weapons!"

I looked at Aldric. He shook his head slightly.

We can't fight our way out of this.

There were too many. We were in the heart of the castle. No escape routes. No backup.

Fuck.

"Lower your weapons," I said quietly.

"Wyatt—" Borin started.

"Do it."

One by one, we dropped our weapons.

The guards swarmed us, binding our hands with heavy iron chains.

"Move," one of them growled, shoving me forward.

I stumbled, my heart sinking.

We were so close.

They threw us into a dungeon cell.

The door slammed shut with a heavy, final clang.

I sat on the cold stone floor, my back against the wall, staring at the iron bars.

So close.

"Well," Borin said after a long silence. "That went well."

"Grok sorry," Grok said, his voice small. "Grok tried to be quiet."

"It's not your fault," I said, though my voice was flat.

"It's all our faults," Kira said bitterly. "We should have planned better."

"We did plan," Lyra said. "We just... didn't account for everything."

"Clearly," Aldric muttered.

Silence fell again.

I closed my eyes, my chest tight.

We were so close.

The portal was right there. Somewhere in this castle. And now we were locked in a dungeon, waiting to be executed.

Rue. Mom. I'm sorry.

"What happens now?" Sszareth asked quietly.

"They'll interrogate us," Kira said. "Then they'll probably kill us."

"Cheerful," Borin muttered.

"I'm being realistic."

"Do you think..." Lyra hesitated. "Do you think they'll listen? If we explain?"

"Doubtful," Aldric said. "The King ordered the portals destroyed. He's not going to let a group of strangers use the one he's kept."

I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling.

Is this it?

Is this how it ends?

After everything—after surviving the demon continent, after forming this party, after traveling for a year and a half—we're going to die in a dungeon?

My hands clenched into fists.

No.

I didn't come this far to give up now.

Hours passed.

Or maybe it was minutes. Time felt meaningless in the dark.

Finally, the door opened.

Guards entered, their expressions hard.

"On your feet," one of them said. "The King wants to see you."

They hauled us up, chains clinking, and marched us through the castle.

The throne room was massive.

High ceilings. Marble floors. Banners bearing the Diamond-Drake crest hung from the walls. Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the stone.

And at the far end, sitting on a throne of gold and silver, was King Valorian Diamond-Drake.

He was... imposing.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features and piercing blue eyes. His hair was dark, streaked with silver at the temples. He wore armor—ornate, polished, clearly ceremonial but still functional.

A crown rested on his head, glittering with diamonds.

Diamond-Drake, I thought. The highest rank. Color and animal.

He looked every inch a king.

And he looked pissed.

"Kneel," one of the guards said, shoving me forward.

I dropped to my knees, the chains heavy on my wrists.

The King studied us in silence, his expression unreadable.

Finally, he spoke.

"You infiltrated my castle," he said, his voice cold. "You attempted to reach the portal."

He leaned forward slightly.

"Are you aligned with the Dragon God?"

"No," I said quickly. "We're not—"

"Silence."

I shut my mouth.

"Are you here to open the portal?" he continued. "To let more monsters through? To bring chaos to my kingdom?"

"No," I said again. "We just—"

"I said silence."

His eyes narrowed.

"What is your purpose?"

I hesitated, then took a breath.

"We need to pass through the portal," I said. "To the demon continent. To find my mother and my companion."

The King's expression didn't change.

"Your mother and companion," he repeated flatly.

"Yes."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"It's the truth."

He stared at me for a long moment.

Then he stood.

"No one survives the demon continent," he said. "And even if they did, I would not risk opening that portal for a fool's errand."

He gestured to the guards.

"Execute them."

My heart stopped.

"Wait—" I started.

"Your Majesty, please—" Aldric said.

"Silence!" the King roared.

The guards moved forward, drawing their swords.

No.

No, no, no—

"My mother was Elara Silverwing!" I shouted.

The King froze.

The guards stopped.

The entire room went silent.

The King turned slowly, his eyes locking onto mine.

"What did you say?" he asked, his voice low.

"My mother," I said, my voice shaking. "Her name is Elara Silverwing. She married my father, Marcus GreyFox."

The King's expression shifted.

For a moment—just a moment—his face softened.

"Elara Silverwing," he repeated, almost to himself.

And then his expression soured.

"GreyFox," he said, his voice dripping with bitterness. "Of course. Of course she left me for him. That scoundrel."

I blinked.

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

Left him?

For my father?

My brain stuttered.

Hold on.

My mother was supposed to marry the KING?

The King of the entire f*****g continent?

I stared at him, my mind racing.

She was engaged to him. Or close to it. And she chose my father instead.

Which means...

I could have been a prince.

A f*****g PRINCE.

Rage—hot, sudden, overwhelming—flooded through me.

Are you KIDDING me?

I could have grown up in a castle. I could have had wealth, power, status. I could have had everything.

And my father—that charming, womanizing BASTARD—stole her away.

He robbed her of a queen's life.

He robbed ME of a prince's life.

That son of a b***h.

I was going to have words with him when I got back.

If I got back.

The King was still staring at me, his expression unreadable.

"You're her son," he said finally.

"Yes."

He studied me for a long moment.

Then he gestured to the guards.

"Release them."

The guards hesitated.

"Your Majesty—"

"I said release them."

The chains fell away.

I rubbed my wrists, my heart still pounding.

The King descended from his throne, walking toward me.

"No one survives the demon continent," he said. "And yet you claim you have."

I met his gaze.

"I have," I said. "And I'll do it again. To find my mother and my friend."

He studied me, his eyes searching.

And then, slowly, he nodded.

"Very well," he said. "I will grant you access to the portal."

Relief flooded through me.

"Thank you—"

"But," he interrupted, "you will rest first. Replenish your supplies. You leave at dawn."

I nodded. "Understood."

He turned and walked back to his throne.

"Guards," he said. "Show them to the guest quarters."

The guest quarters were... nice.

Really nice.

Soft beds. Clean linens. A fireplace. Food and water waiting for us.

It was surreal.

One moment, we were about to be executed. The next, we were being treated like honored guests.

"I don't trust this," Kira muttered as she sat on one of the beds.

"Neither do I," Aldric said. "But we don't have a choice."

"At least we're not dead," Borin said, biting into a piece of bread.

"Yet," Lyra added.

Grok was already asleep, snoring loudly.

I sat by the window, staring out at the castle grounds.

Tomorrow, I thought. Tomorrow we go through the portal.

Tomorrow, everything changes.

I couldn't sleep.

I wandered the castle halls, my mind too restless to settle.

The corridors were quiet, lit by torches that cast flickering shadows on the walls.

I turned a corner—

And stopped.

A beast-folk girl was walking toward me.

My heart stopped.

She had black hair. Tan skin. A tail swaying behind her.

Rue.

I took a step forward—

And then I saw her eyes.

Grey.

Not golden.

Not Rue.

She was a wolf-folk, not a fox-folk. Her hair was faded, her features slightly different.

She was beautiful.

But she wasn't her.

The girl noticed me staring and stopped, her ears flicking back.

She said something in beast-speech—an apology, I think.

I shook my head. "It's fine."

She hurried past me, disappearing down the corridor.

I stood there for a moment, my chest aching.

Not her.

But she's out there. Somewhere.

I'll find her.

I turned another corner—

And nearly collided with someone.

"Oh!" a voice said. "I'm so sorry—"

I looked up.

And froze.

She was... stunning.

Long, dark hair that fell in waves past her shoulders. Sharp, intelligent eyes—the same piercing blue as the King's. High cheekbones. Full lips. A figure that was elegant and graceful, wrapped in a flowing gown that shimmered in the torchlight.

Holy s**t.

"Are you alright?" she asked, tilting her head.

"I—uh—yeah," I stammered. "Sorry. I wasn't paying attention."

She smiled. "Clearly."

Fuck, she's beautiful.

"I'm Princess Seraphine," she said, extending a hand. "Daughter of King Valorian."

Princess.

Of course she is.

I took her hand, shaking it awkwardly. "Wyatt. Wyatt GreyFox."

Her eyes widened slightly. "GreyFox? You're the one my father granted access to the portal."

"Yeah. That's me."

She studied me, her expression curious.

"You're younger than I expected," she said.

"I get that a lot."

She laughed—a soft, musical sound.

Stop it, I told myself. You're here for Rue. Focus.

But my pervert brain wasn't listening.

I caught myself staring at the curve of her neck, the way her gown hugged her waist, the way her lips curved when she smiled.

Fuck.

"You're staring," she said, her tone amused.

"I—uh—sorry," I said quickly, looking away.

She laughed again. "It's alright. I'm used to it."

Of course she is. She's a f*****g princess.

"So," she said, leaning against the wall. "You're going to the demon continent."

"Yeah."

"That's brave. Or foolish."

"Probably both."

She smiled. "I like that answer."

We stood in silence for a moment.

"Why are you doing it?" she asked. "Going back, I mean. My father said you've already survived it once."

"I'm looking for someone," I said. "Two people, actually. My mother and... someone important to me."

Her expression softened. "I hope you find them."

"Thanks."

She pushed off the wall. "I should let you rest. You have a long journey ahead."

"Yeah."

She started to walk away, then paused and looked back.

"Good luck, Wyatt GreyFox."

"Thanks."

She disappeared down the corridor, and I stood there, my heart still racing.

Fuck.

Focus, Wyatt. You're here for Rue.

Not some princess.

That night, I finally fell asleep.

And I dreamed.

I was standing on a battlefield.

The sky was blood red. The ground was cracked and scorched. Fire burned in the distance.

And in front of me, towering over everything, was him.

The Dragon God.

Massive. Terrifying. His scales were black as night, his eyes glowing with malevolent fire. Wings stretched wide, blotting out the sky.

He roared, and the sound shook the earth.

I raised my hand, casting a spell.

Fire erupted from my palm, slamming into him.

He didn't even flinch.

Fuck.

And then I heard her voice.

"Wyatt!"

I turned.

Rue was there, fighting at my side.

She was older—fully grown, her body lean and powerful. Her daggers flashed as she moved, cutting down demons with brutal efficiency.

"We can do this!" she shouted.

"We're losing!" I shouted back.

"Then we fight harder!"

The Dragon God lunged, his claws slashing toward us.

I threw up a barrier, but it shattered like glass.

Rue leapt, her daggers aimed at his throat—

And he swatted her aside like an insect.

"Rue!" I screamed.

She hit the ground hard, blood pooling beneath her.

No.

No, no, no—

The Dragon God turned to me, his eyes burning.

"You cannot win," he said, his voice like thunder.

And then he struck.

I woke with a gasp, my heart pounding, my body drenched in sweat.

For a moment, I didn't know where I was.

Then reality set in.

The guest quarters. The castle.

Tomorrow.

I sat up, running a hand through my hair.

It was just a dream.

Just a dream.

But it felt real.

Too real.

I lay back down, staring at the ceiling.

Tomorrow, we go through the portal.

Tomorrow, I find Rue.

Tomorrow, everything changes.

I closed my eyes, waiting for dawn.

Hold on, Rue.

I'm coming.