EPISODE 6: THE GATHERING’S OF KING’S
791 Words
The grand halls of Kaelen’s palace, once tainted by the rule of King Thorian, now stood as a testament to his conquest. Heavy banners of his sigil draped the towering walls, and the scent of burning wood mixed with the faint aroma of spiced wine filled the air. The kings—rulers of the lands that had aided in Thorian’s fall—had arrived to pay their respects and indulge in Kaelen’s hospitality.
Aurelia, clad in a modest yet finely made gown, stood at the far end of the chamber, a silent shadow amidst the men who had decided her father’s fate. She was not acknowledged, nor was she expected to be. To them, she was nothing more than a remnant of a defeated legacy, a fallen princess reduced to servitude under the very man who had stolen her world.
Yet, she could feel their gazes on her.
Their eyes, some filled with amusement, others with intrigue, lingered on her. They had heard the stories—of the captive princess who did not break, of the woman who walked with unbowed grace despite her downfall. One of them, a broad-shouldered king with silver-threaded hair called king Kain, chuckled as he sipped his wine.
“I must say, Kaelen, your spoil of war is a fine one. I expected the daughter of a tyrant to be as wretched as he was, but she is quite… mesmerizing.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the men, though beneath their jesting, there was an undertone of appreciation.
Kaelen, seated at the head of the table, remained impassive. His fingers drummed against the wood, his expression unreadable.
“She is no spoil,” he said, his voice like cold steel. “She is a lesson.”
The kings smirked at that, amused by his indifference, though a few of them exchanged knowing glances. A woman reduced to nothing was not so easily spoken about unless she had become something more than nothing.
When the conversation shifted, the men recounted the downfall of King Thorian, their voices rising with mirth as they spoke of his last moments. One of them scoffed, shaking his head.
A man who ruled through fear, yet begged for mercy in the end. Pathetic.”
Another laughed. “Truly, he thought he was untouchable. I heard he soiled himself when the gates fell. Is that true, Kaelen?”
Kaelen’s lips barely curved, the closest thing to amusement he ever showed. “He died disgracefully. That is all that matters.”
And then, Elaria laughed.
A sharp, unthinking laugh.
Aurelia’s fingers curled into her dress as Elaria standing nearby in her usual silken attire, added with a smirk, “Power means nothing if a man cannot keep his throne. Thorian was a fool to believe he was unstoppable.”
The room fell dead silent.
The kings turned to her, eyes narrowing in displeasure. Elaria, oblivious at first, still held her haughty expression—until she noticed the way their expressions darkened.
It was the King Kain who spoke first, his voice laced with condescension. “Who allowed a w***e to speak among kings?”
A few of them chuckled at his words, while others merely looked at her with disdain.
“You mock a king, yet you are nothing but a kept woman,” another added, his tone dismissive. “Do you even know what it means to rule? Or are your lips only useful for things other than words?”
Elaria stiffened, her confidence cracking like fragile glass. She had spent years basking in Kaelen’s favor, believing herself untouchable within the palace walls. But here, among rulers—true rulers—she was no more than an afterthought, an insignificant plaything.
Aurelia watched the scene unfold, saying nothing, but she saw the way Elaria’s face burned with humiliation. It was ironic, really—Elaria had taken every opportunity to belittle her, to remind her of her place. Yet now, she was the one being reduced to nothing.
Kaelen did not spare her a glance. He let the kings speak without protest, offering Elaria no defense, no shield from their words. She was a mistress, and in their eyes, that meant she was beneath their notice.
“Enough,” Kaelen finally said, his voice cutting through the lingering laughter. “We ride out for the hunt at dawn. If you are not prepared, do not waste my time.”
The kings nodded in agreement, the air shifting back to casual conversation as if nothing had happened.
Elaria stood there, lips pressed tightly together, humiliated but unable to protest.
Aurelia met her eyes for only a moment, seeing the raw hatred behind them. But beneath that hatred, there was something else.
Rage.
And fear.
- Writer
