The Persian Prince

The palace fell silent the moment he entered. Prince Zareth walked through the grand corridor with slow, heavy steps, the sound of his bloodstained armor echoing against the marble walls. The guards standing at attention stiffened immediately, their eyes lowering to the ground. A servant carrying a silver tray nearly dropped it as she hurried out of his path. Fear. Always fear. It followed him like a curse stitched into his very shadow. The torch flames along the walls flickered strangely as he passed, dimming for mere seconds before returning to life. Whispers rose behind him in hushed breaths. "The cursed prince…" "Do not look directly at him." "They say death walks beside him." Zareth heard every word. He always did. But he no longer cared enough to react. His expression remained cold and unreadable as the towering doors to his chambers opened. The servants waiting inside bowed deeply, trembling as though his presence alone suffocated them. "Leave." The command was quiet. Yet every servant rushed out immediately. The doors shut. Silence consumed the room. For a moment, Zareth simply stood there, shoulders heavy beneath the dark steel armor that covered his body. Then with a sharp movement, he ripped the armor from himself piece by piece, letting it crash onto the marble floor. Clang. Clang. Clang. Beneath the black fabric wrapped around his torso were fresh wounds, crimson staining through the cloth. A deep s***h stretched across his ribs while bruises darkened his skin. None of it bothered him. Physical pain was insignificant compared to the emptiness festering inside him. His silver eyes lifted toward the mirror across the room. A monster stared back. Beautiful. Feared. Unwanted. His jaw tightened. His mother had died giving birth to him. The kingdom called it an omen. Since then, every strange occurrence, every death, every shadow that slithered too unnaturally became tied to his existence. Even his father feared him. Perhaps rightfully so. A knock interrupted the silence. Zareth did not turn. "What?" The servant outside swallowed audibly before speaking. "Y-Your Highness… His Majesty requests your presence in the council chamber." Of course he did. Zareth grabbed a dark robe and threw it over himself before stepping out of the room. The servants outside instantly moved aside. Like prey sensing a predator. —— The council chamber buzzed with conversation until the doors opened. Then silence crashed over the room. Every nobleman stiffened. Several council members visibly paled. At the center of the long table sat the king, rigid and stern upon his chair. Beside him lounged Crown Prince Cassian, looking every bit the favored son with his effortless arrogance and polished appearance. Unlike Zareth, Cassian was adored. Loved by the people. Desired by noblewomen. Everything Zareth had never been. The Persian prince entered without haste, dark robes flowing behind him like smoke. His presence alone seemed to make the room colder. Some council members frowned at him. Others looked terrified. Zareth heard all of it . Not aloud. Inside his head. Monster. Why does His Majesty continue allowing him near the throne? Those cursed eyes… He should have died at birth. His expression remained emotionless as he pulled out a chair and sat down carelessly. Unhinged. Majestic. Dangerous. Cassian smirked faintly from across the table. "You look terrible, brother." Zareth ignored him. The king cleared his throat quickly, tension evident in his posture. "We are gathered to discuss an important matter concerning the future of the kingdom," he announced. At once, anticipation spread across the room. "The crown prince has come of age to choose a bride." The atmosphere shifted immediately. Excitement. Calculation. Greed. Zareth's eyes darkened slightly. Their thoughts became louder. If my daughter becomes queen— Our family will gain influence over the throne. The military alliance alone would secure power for generations. Status. Wealth. Control . Disgust curled inside him. Humans were vile creatures pretending to be honorable. The council began discussing noble daughters from powerful bloodlines while servants moved around pouring wine into jeweled goblets. Cassian leaned back lazily, clearly entertained by the attention. "A royal ball shall be held in three nights," the king declared firmly. "The crown prince will choose his future bride before the kingdom." Murmurs of approval filled the chamber. Zareth clenched his jaw. The voices in his head grew unbearable. Fear. Ambition. Selfishness. So loud. Too loud. One council member glanced at him nervously and thought: What if the cursed prince harms the chosen bride? Something dark flickered behind Zareth's silver eyes. The candles around the room suddenly dimmed. Several nobles froze in terror. The pressure in the chamber thickened. Then— Zareth rose from his seat abruptly. The scraping sound echoed harshly through the room . Silence followed instantly. The king frowned. "Zareth." But the prince had already turned away. "I have no interest in this." His voice was calm. Cold. Deadly. Without waiting for dismissal, he walked toward the doors. The council members visibly relaxed the moment he left the room... Cowards. The massive doors shut behind him with a heavy thud. Zareth strode down the endless corridor alone, shadows stretching at his feet beneath the dim torchlight. But tonight felt strange. Restless. Like something unseen had begun moving beneath the surface of fate itself. And somewhere beyond the palace walls... A girl with eyes like moonlight was unknowingly walking toward the ruin of her life.