ANNARIEVETTA

Rage, Royalty, and Repercussions

It was early morning when one of the guards came in to inform Veta that her husband had sent for her. She felt off—rather homesick. She wore a huge veil over her night robe, then headed sluggishly to his chamber. She stood still for a while, then knocked.

“Coming,” his deep, older voice called from inside. She shivered slightly, then stepped into the room.

She screamed.

His strongly built bare chest was the first thing she saw, and it completely stunned her. It was the first time she had ever seen a man so undressed up close—and it got to her. Though she had brothers, they had always maintained strict privacy from one another, just as she had from them.

“What?” Karan exclaimed in surprise, not wanting to believe that his body was the reason she was freaking out.

“Cover up now!” she yelled, her face still turned away.

He found himself laughing. Quickly, he threw on his robe and turned back to her. Her face remained hidden behind the door. He smiled at her dramatic posture and walked over to tap her shoulder.

“Yeah, we’re covered up,” he said.

She turned slightly and pointed at a small open space in his robe. “That,” she said.

He muttered an “Ooh,” then adjusted it.

“Good now,” she said, brushing her fingers against the robe to check. In that moment, something sparked inside him. A simple touch—but it meant something. It stirred something deep, something he craved far more than he wanted to admit.

“So… why did you call me?” she asked slowly, her voice soft and hesitant.

The sound of her words pulled him from his thoughts. Her sullen tone sounded like music to his ears.

“Yeah… You’ll be meeting the whole family this morning. So, get dressed,” Karan said.

“This morning? Why?” she asked, pouting.

“You shouldn’t question me,” he replied, a bit too curtly.

“You see?” she said in disbelief.

“Hey, don’t step on my toes. I’ve promised to treat you well—don’t make me fail myself,” he said, grabbing her chin harshly.

“Ouch! You—” she yelped, pushing him away.

He blinked, stunned at what he’d just done. Shame crept over his features.

“Go now,” he said gently.

She turned, her voice low but sharp. “A responsible prince does not go around ushering his bride.”

With that, she strode out of the room.

Karan sighed as she left. “What’s she doing to me?” he asked himself repeatedly.

No one had ever spoken to him like that—no one except members of his family. He muttered a quiet cuss and walked into the bathroom to take his bath.

Karan dressed in a regal red ensemble, specially ordered from a renowned fabric designer for both himself and his bride. The rich crimson fabric seemed to reflect his intensity, as if it spoke of power and dominance.

As he walked into the room, the guards bowed respectfully, but he didn’t acknowledge them, his face set in a stern, emotionless mask. He made his way toward Veta’s bedroom.

He paused just outside the door, standing still for a few moments, collecting himself before entering.

Inside, Veta sat in a chair, perfectly dressed. Her hair was swept to one side, held in place with a ribbon matching the attire they wore. She was every bit the royal bride—yet there was a certain stillness about her that mirrored his own.

She stood as he entered, her eyes meeting his.

“Shall we?” Karan asked, a simple nod accompanying his words.

Veta placed her hand in his, and for a brief moment, everything seemed to settle into place. Their hands fit together perfectly—an unexpected sense of unity in their cold silence.

Together, they walked in quiet, unspoken agreement toward the royal dining room, where the rest of the family awaited.

Once they reached the prepared table, Karan muttered a quiet greeting to his father. The rest of the family was already seated, making it clear they were the last to arrive. Veta bowed slightly before taking her seat beside Karan.

“Did you not see your mothers?” King Ishmael asked, his tone sharp.

Karan ignored him, his gaze fixed forward.

“And your brothers?” Clement added, his voice laced with an irritating sense of superiority. Karan’s breath caught, his patience thinning. Clement, a year older, seemed to think he could always get the upper hand.

Karan’s voice was cold but firm. “Mind yourself. This is supposed to be an introduction first,” he said, and the room fell into a tense silence.

The maid began serving the food, and the family dug in, the air thick with unspoken words.

“Father, warn this w***e I call a wife. She’s getting on my nerves these days,” Prince Lexon, the fourth prince, reported without a hint of hesitation. His wife, Betany, shot him a sharp look from across the table.

“That melted father,” she retorted, her voice cutting through the tension. “You wouldn’t stop collecting new concubines.”

The argument escalated, their voices growing louder and more hostile.

“Enough!” King Ishmael finally bellowed. “You both will see me in my study later.” His command silenced them, though the resentment still simmered beneath the surface. Both Lexon and Betany nodded reluctantly.

The room settled into a quieter but still uncomfortable atmosphere. Then, Levon, the fifth prince, leaned forward, his eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and judgment.

“Your wife… she’s more than I was expecting,” Levon said with a faint smirk. “I never thought you’d find anything good in your life.”

Karan’s blood boiled, his jaw tightening in fury. But before he could respond, Veta gently placed her soft palm over his, the touch calming him as she soothed him with a quiet, tender gesture.

"Brother-in-law, what are you saying?" Veta spoke up, her voice calm but cutting. She maintained eye contact with Levon, her gaze unwavering. "From what I can see, you are no better than my husband, not by any measure."

Even Karan was shocked by her words. The room fell into stunned silence as everyone stared at Veta. Levon, the fifth son of King Ishmael, was known as the cruelest among the king's sons. His reputation for manipulation and wickedness was infamous.

"You must be wicked," she continued, her words sharp and unshaken. "You seem like the type to make snares for everyone around them."

Karan’s breath caught in his chest. He had never expected this—no one had ever stood up for him in such a way. He’d always been alone in the face of his family’s disdain. But Veta? She was different. Her words, though bold, felt like a shield, and for the first time, Karan felt a flicker of something he hadn’t experienced before—hope.

“Father, this riff-raff dares insult me!” Levon shouted, his voice dripping with outrage as he continued to shovel food into his mouth, clearly trying to provoke.

“Enough, brother,” Veta interjected, her voice laced with mockery. “Don’t you think you’re going to choke on that?” She smiled wickedly, knowing exactly the effect her words would have.

Levon smirked, unbothered. “I wouldn’t get angry. I will own you one day, and many other concubines my brother would choose to have,” he said, his words carrying a cold, twisted promise.

Karan’s face darkened in fury, his patience snapping.

“Don’t you ever say that again,” he yelled, his voice booming across the table. The thought of Levon even suggesting that he might one day have any claim to Veta sent flames of rage through him. The idea of another man, especially Levon, taking what was his... it was too much to bear.

“I say I will have Anarievetta to myself someday!” Levon shouted, his words louder and more defiant than before.

Karan’s patience snapped. Without warning, he hit Levon hard across the face, sending him stumbling back. The sound of the punch echoed through the room. Furious, Karan followed with a relentless barrage of blows.

The entire table erupted into chaos as everyone scrambled to stop them, but it was Veta’s small, trembling voice and gentle touch that finally halted Karan. His face was covered in blood and sweat, his long hair a wild mess around him, blood dripping from his jaw.

Tears welled up in Veta’s eyes as she gazed at him, her heart aching for him and the fear rising from Levon’s words.

“I—” She couldn’t finish her thought as the weight of the moment hung heavily in the air.

“Report to my study room, now, you unruly lastborn!” King Ishmael bellowed, pointing at Karan. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t learn to comport yourself, even in front of your wife. It’s obvious you are possessed!”

Karan clenched his jaw, biting back his anger.

“He’s not possessed!” Veta cried out, her voice trembling. “Karan, tell them you’re not!”

King Ishmael turned his cold glare on her. “Join him,” he murmured.

Veta stepped forward, her heart racing, but before she could move closer, Karan’s voice stopped her.

“Don’t do anything to her,” he said, his voice firm despite his fury. “Take it all out on me.”

The king’s lips twisted into a wicked smile—another opportunity to punish his son.

“Guards,” Karan ordered, his voice filled with defeat. “Escort Veta to her room.”

Veta was led away, her heart heavy with fear for Karan. As soon as she was alone in her room, she collapsed onto the bed, her body wracked with sobs. She couldn’t shake the fear of what the king would do to Karan. Her mind wandered back to the times her father punished her brothers—especially Prince Jeziel. His punishments were always fierce, but no matter how hard he was beaten, he never gave up causing trouble. Eventually, Jeziel had left the palace, but she couldn’t shake the fear that Karan’s fate would be just as cruel.