I Was Nothing Until the King Chose Me

Episode 6

The moment the gates opened, I knew there was no going back.

Something in me shifted in a way I couldn’t ignore, like I had stepped over a line that didn’t exist before and now couldn’t be undone. It wasn’t loud or sudden, just a quiet realization settling into my chest as I took in everything around me, my eyes lifting slowly as if they needed time to adjust to a world this overwhelming.

The world behind me, the life I had left, the version of myself that still believed I could walk away from this… it all felt distant now, like it belonged to someone else.

“So this is where you live?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended, almost slipping out under my breath as my gaze dragged across the towering structure ahead. The castle didn’t just stand there, it loomed, carved from dark stone with a presence that felt ancient and unmovable, like it had always been here and always would be. People moved through the grounds with quiet purpose, completely at ease in a place that made my chest feel tight just looking at it, and the crest repeated itself everywhere, etched into walls, stitched into uniforms, subtly reflected in the mark on my neck, which only made my fingers twitch faintly at my side.

“You’ve gone quiet,” Lyo said beside me, his voice low, almost thoughtful, like he had been watching me longer than I realized. When I glanced at him, I caught the faint curve at the corner of his lips, not mocking, not exactly amused, but aware, like he could read the thoughts I hadn’t said out loud yet. “That usually means you’re thinking too much.”

I let out a slow breath, dragging my eyes away from the castle and back to him.

“Can you blame me?” I replied, my tone lighter than I felt, though my fingers curled slightly as if grounding myself. “This place doesn’t exactly feel… normal. It feels like I stepped into something I wasn’t supposed to see.”

His gaze didn’t waver, if anything, it deepened, like my words only confirmed something to him.

“You were always meant to see it,” he said, his voice quieter now, more certain, and the way he said it made it sound less like reassurance and more like a fact he wasn’t willing to argue.

That didn’t help.

As we moved further in, the attention shifted immediately. Conversations slowed, people turned, and I felt it before I fully looked, the weight of their stares pressing against my skin in a way that made me instinctively straighten. When I did glance around, it wasn’t subtle, their eyes followed, lingering, and when they dropped to my neck, the reaction changed, curiosity sharpening into something more intense.

“They’re not even trying to hide it,” I muttered, leaning slightly closer to him as my voice lowered, my tone edged with discomfort I didn’t bother masking. “Should I be concerned, or is this just how they welcome people?”

His hand tightened around mine just slightly, not enough to trap me, but enough to ground me, his thumb brushing faintly against my skin in a way that felt deliberate.

“They’re reacting to something they don’t understand,” he said calmly, though his gaze flicked briefly toward the people watching before returning to me. “Give it time. It won’t stay like this.”

“It already feels like too much time,” I replied under my breath, though I didn’t pull away.

We stepped deeper inside, the outside fading behind us as the halls closed in, the space quieter but heavier, like the walls themselves carried weight. My steps slowed without permission, my eyes catching on details I couldn’t process fast enough, and then the realization hit me hard enough to stop me completely.

“Wait,” I said, my voice tightening as I turned toward him. “You’re not taking me straight to them, are you?” The thought alone made my stomach twist slightly.

“A few people first,” he answered, like it was nothing.

I narrowed my eyes. “That sounds like something you say when you’re leaving out the important part.”

“The ones who need to see you,” he clarified, his tone steady, unchanged.

I stopped walking completely. “So I’m being judged,” I said flatly, my arms crossing instinctively as I held his gaze.

“You’re staying with me,” he replied, like that ended the conversation before it even started.

“That’s not what I asked,” I muttered, irritation slipping through, but his hand shifted, guiding me forward again without force, just certainty.

“It’s still the answer,” he said, his voice quieter now, but heavier, like it didn’t need to be argued.

I rolled my eyes but followed, mostly because resisting felt pointless when he moved like everything was already decided.

When we reached the tall glass doors, I paused again, catching my reflection for just a second. I didn’t look like I belonged here, not in this place, not beside someone like him, and the thought slipped out before I could stop it.

“I don’t fit here,” I said quietly, my voice losing some of its edge.

“You do,” he said immediately, not even hesitating.

I glanced at him, searching his expression for doubt.

There wasn’t any.

“You look exactly like someone who belongs here. You are breathtakingly beautiful, smart, and kind” he added, his tone lower now, more deliberate, his eyes holding mine in a way that made it harder to brush off. It didn’t feel like flattery. It felt like a claim.

I frowned slightly. “You say that like it’s not up for debate.”

“It isn’t,” he said simply.

I hesitated, then nodded slightly. “Thanks,” I said, the word unfamiliar on my tongue.

His gaze lingered, softer now, but still intent. “You’re not used to hearing that,” he observed, his voice quieter, almost knowing.

“That’s not the point,” I replied quickly, looking away.

“It is when you react like that,” he said, a faint trace of amusement slipping through.

“I’m not reacting,” I insisted.

“You are,” he countered, his voice lower now, like he was enjoying the way I couldn’t quite hide it.

I exhaled sharply. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re still here,” he replied smoothly, and before I could stop myself—

“Yeah, because you're hot as f*ck,” I said.

Silence followed.

I froze.

His hand tightened at my waist instantly, pulling me closer, his gaze sharpening, darkening just enough to make my breath catch as he looked down at me like he was deciding something.

“Say that again,” he murmured, his voice lower now, slower, like he wanted to hear it properly.

“I didn’t say anything,” I said quickly, my voice betraying me slightly.

“You did,” he said, his thumb pressing slightly against my side, grounding but insistent.

“I didn’t mean it like that; you're not all that,” I added, trying to recover.

“That’s unfortunate,” he murmured, turning me fully toward him, his hand sliding to the back of my head, steady, controlled.

“I’ve seen better,” I said too quickly.

That was a mistake.

His expression shifted instantly, his hold tightening just enough to pin me lightly against the wall, not hurting, but leaving no space between us.

“Then tell me,” he said, his voice quieter now, but edged with something sharper, his gaze locked onto mine. “Who exactly are you comparing me to?”

My breath caught, my thoughts scattering under the intensity of him. “I… I can’t,” I admitted, my voice softer now, less certain.

His jaw tightened slightly before he leaned in just enough that his forehead brushed mine. “Exactly,” he said, his tone lower now, almost possessive.

“Don’t say things like that again. No one makes you feel what I do." My hands had moved to his chest without me noticing.

“I wasn’t trying to,” I whispered.

“You don’t need to try,” he replied, his voice dropping further. “It still affects me.”

My heart was beating too fast.

“Understood?” he asked.

I nodded.

He pulled away too quickly, the warmth disappearing just as fast, adjusting his coat around me like nothing had happened.

Then....

“Who is she?”

The voice cut through sharply.

I turned.

At the far end of the hall stood Xenon, Kallix, and Lyra.

The girl stood beside them, holding her gaze. She looked me over slowly, deliberately. This hoe was literally sizing me up, and I felt it, the weight of her attention settling over me in a way that was different from the others'. Not curious. Not shocked but calculating.

Lyo didn’t let go of my hand. If anything, his grip tightened, his fingers shifting just slightly to pull me closer against his side, subtle but unmistakable.

Claiming."Who am I?? Who are YOU and why the hell are you shouting?" I asked, puzzled. Is she on drugs or something? b***h, yelling as if I was outside

“Lyo,” She said, her voice sounded soft, but there was something beneath it, something sharper as her eyes flicked briefly to where his hand held mine. “You’ve returned… and brought someone....”

“Yes Antheia, I have,” he replied, calm and unmoved. So that's her name.....sounds like a porn star.

Her gaze returned to me. “And who might she be? Is she a maid?” she asked, her tone polite, but not warm at all.

I straightened slightly. “You could ask me directly,” I said, my voice annoyed yet edged.

A flicker of surprise crossed her face. Then, interest piqued; before she could respond, his arm shifted around my waist, pulling me just slightly closer, enough to feel it, enough to make it clear. “She stays with me,” Lyo said, his voice lower now, more deliberate, like there was no room for interpretation.

Silence stretched. Her gaze moved between us, slower this time.

“Is that so?” she said quietly. She sounds so disappointed. His hand pressed more firmly against my side. “It is.”

The air shifted. Not hostile. But heavier.

Antheia studied me for a moment longer, exhaling, but not before giving me a nasty look. “The royal family is waiting,” she said, her tone neutral again, though her eyes lingered on me for a second longer before she turned. She looks almost sad. A hint of................betrayal?? That's interesting......Why?

We started moving again, but this time, my steps felt heavier and more real.

“I’ll be right here,” Lyo murmured near my ear, his voice quieter now, closer, his presence wrapping around me even when he wasn’t fully touching me.

I nodded, but my chest felt tight, and as we approached the doors ahead...

One thought settled, clear and unavoidable.

If they didn’t accept me…

I wasn’t walking out of this place.