FANGS OF THE THRONE

The Dragon King's Game

The air in Alaric’s chamber was thick with tension as the flickering light of candles cast long shadows across the room. Alaric, seated at the edge of his bed, stared out the window, his thoughts swirling in a storm of uncertainty. The dinner had gone as expected—uncomfortable, strained, and filled with unspoken words. He tried to break the silence, to see if there was a c***k in Seraphine’s icy demeanor, but each attempt had been shut down with cold indifference.

She’s so much like her mother, he thought bitterly. Proud, untouchable, unyielding. But I can make her see. I will make her see.

His hand tightened around the goblet in front of him, the wine inside untouched. His mind was racing, torn between the path his mother had set before him and his own desires—desires that involved Seraphine, whether she liked it or not. He had spent his life following the rules of power, and now it was time to play the game of kings. There was no turning back now.

A soft knock at the door broke his reverie. He looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Come in,” he commanded, his voice a low rumble.

The door creaked open, and Seraphine entered, her presence as striking as ever. She wore a gown of deep crimson, the fabric flowing like liquid fire, a perfect match for the fierce spirit that burned within her. Her eyes, cold and guarded, met his for a fleeting moment before she looked away, her posture stiff as if she were preparing for an inevitable confrontation.

“Dinner is served,” she said, her tone neutral.

Alaric stood slowly, his gaze never leaving her. “Come, Seraphine. Let us dine together. It’s not often we have a moment of peace in this fortress.”

She didn’t respond immediately, her eyes flicking around the room as if searching for an escape. After a long pause, she stepped closer, but there was no warmth in her movements. Only distance. She’s not afraid of me, Alaric realized with a strange sense of admiration, but she should be.

The two of them sat at the table, the silence stretching between them like an invisible wall. Alaric’s mind raced, each word he had planned feeling inadequate in the face of Seraphine’s cold indifference. He opened his mouth to speak, but she was already looking at him, her eyes filled with unspoken challenge.

“You want to talk, but there is nothing to say,” she remarked flatly, her gaze unwavering. “You’re the king now. That’s all that matters.”

Alaric’s jaw tightened. “And what of you, Seraphine? Is that all you care about? Titles and power?”

“I care about what I must to survive,” she shot back, her voice sharp. “What else is there?”

The words hung heavy in the air, each one carrying the weight of their shared history, their shared struggle for power. Alaric’s eyes darkened. She’s clever. Too clever for her own good. He could see through her, the layers of carefully constructed indifference masking something far more vulnerable.

Before he could speak, before he could do anything else, he stood abruptly and moved toward her, his hand grabbing her wrist with a firm, yet controlled grip.

“Come with me,” he ordered, his voice low.

She froze, her eyes widening as she stared up at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “What are you doing, Alaric?” Her voice was a mix of defiance and confusion, but her body remained tense, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

“I said, come with me,” he repeated, more insistent this time. He turned to the guard stationed at the door. “Lock it. Stay outside.”

Alaric’s actions were decisive, and Seraphine had no choice but to follow. Her heart raced in her chest, but her expression remained unchanged, a mask of stoic resolve. She had known this day would come—had known it since the moment she had agreed to play this dangerous game.

When they entered Alaric’s chambers, the door closed behind them with a soft click. He released her wrist, but the tension between them remained thick. She took a step back, her eyes never leaving his.

“What is this, Alaric?” she asked, her voice quiet but filled with an undercurrent of fear. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to understand,” Alaric said, his voice steady as he approached her, “that nothing comes easy in this world. Not even love. Not even power. You will have to earn everything, Seraphine. Starting with me.”

Seraphine’s breath caught in her throat. Earn him? The thought disgusted her, but she held her ground. “You think I’ll just fall in line? You think I’ll bend to your will like every other person who cowers before you?”

“No,” he said, a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. “But I need to know that you’re strong enough to stand by my side. The world will test you. I will test you.”

Seraphine’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “You want me to submit to you, to prove my loyalty? To become your pawn, just like everyone else?”

“No,” he said again, his voice a low growl. “I want you to prove you can handle what’s coming. We both know the game we’re playing, Seraphine. There are no rules. No mercy.”

She stared at him, her eyes narrowing as she took in the weight of his words. “I’ll never be your pawn, Alaric. You may be the Dragon King, but that doesn’t make you my king. Not now. Not ever.”

Alaric’s gaze hardened, but his voice remained calm. “We’ll see about that.”

Seraphine turned away, her heart pounding in her chest. She had no idea where this was leading, but she knew one thing for certain: she would not bow to him. She would not let him control her. Not now, not ever.

“You may be the king,” she said over her shoulder, her voice cold, “but you’re a coward.”

For a moment, Alaric said nothing, his eyes following her every movement. The tension in the room was palpable, crackling like the stillness before a storm.

“Maybe,” he replied, his tone even, “but we’ll continue this. Until you’re with child.”

Seraphine didn’t look back as she stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind her. The anger and humiliation bubbled up inside her, but she refused to let it show. She had no intention of submitting to Alaric. Not in this lifetime.

Meanwhile, in another part of the palace, Seraphine’s uncle and cousin were deep in conversation. Their voices were low, their words filled with conspiracy and ambition.

“We need to act fast,” her uncle said, his voice laced with impatience. “We can’t let Alaric continue his reign without opposition.”

Her cousin nodded, his eyes gleaming with ambition. “If we find Eren, we can use him. Alaric will trust us. It will be the perfect way to get close.”

Her uncle shook his head, his expression hardening. “Eren is a liability. We need to focus on Seraphine. She’s the key. Once she’s with child, she’ll be tied to Alaric for good.”

The conversation shifted as they discussed their plans to undermine Seraphine, but her uncle's mind was already elsewhere. He would not let anyone take what was rightfully his.

Meanwhile, in the garden, Seraphine found solace in the quiet, her heart heavy with everything that had transpired. She sank to her knees, her hands trembling as she tried to hold back the tears.

Her mother found her there, her expression filled with concern. “What happened?” she asked gently.

“He tested me,” Seraphine whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. “I didn’t want to do it, but… I couldn’t stop him.”

Her mother knelt beside her, wrapping her arms around her in a comforting embrace. “Did he force you?”

“No,” Seraphine said, her voice bitter. “But he might as well have. He wants me to prove myself—to him, to his mother, to everyone. I just wanted to marry Kaedor. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I know,” her mother said softly. “But this is your life now. You were always meant to be with one of the dragons, the one who would win. Alaric is the victor now.”

Seraphine pulled away slightly, looking her mother in the eyes. “I don’t want to be a pawn in his game.”

Her mother’s eyes hardened. “Then you will fight. We will find a way to make him love you. If we must, we will make him see you as more than just a tool.”

Seraphine nodded, determination flashing in her eyes. She would fight. She would never be anyone’s pawn.