His throne,her war

Gilded Masks and Glass Hearts

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Far from the quiet cottage where Kael lay recovering, the empire's heart pulsed with ceremony and whispers.

The imperial capital of Virelia stirred in golden splendor. Through the vast arched windows of the Seravellan Palace—home to the ruling dynasty of the Elorian Empire—sunlight spilled onto intricate marble, setting the stage for yet another performance in the game of thrones.

The annual Spring Court Banquet was imminent, and the city bloomed in anticipation. Nobles arrived in droves, their carriages lined with velvet, their eyes glinting with secrets. Alliances would be toasted, vendettas cloaked in pleasantries, and beneath the crystal chandeliers of the great hall, the empire would don its most glittering mask.

And at the center of it all stood Crown Prince Elric Callenhart of the Elorian Empire.

With a silver-edged military coat and his family’s crimson mantle draped over his shoulders, he looked every inch the heir the realm expected. His raven-black hair was slicked back with precision, his posture so perfect it bordered on rigid. Yet even in stillness, there was unease in him—like a storm cloud coiled behind his eyes.

That morning, before the banquet, Elric had not gone straight to court. Instead, he lay half-awake in his chamber, staring at the morning light slanting through the drapes. There was an aching hollowness in his chest—one he hadn’t been able to explain or dismiss.

Kael.

The name still haunted him.

He turned to his side, one hand draped over his eyes, trying to ignore the image that had been burned into his memory: Kael, shackled and bloodied, being led to execution. The trial, if it could even be called that, had been nothing more than a performance—an orchestrated downfall. The empire had needed a scapegoat. He went missing...or maybe dead...

And Elric, like a fool, had let himself believe in the whispers.

“He’s dangerous.”

“He’s hiding something.”

“He’s not one of us.”

Charlotte had whispered those words into his ear with perfect timing, with that concerned expression, so well rehearsed. Her voice had been soft, but her intentions sharp.

Now, Kael was gone. The most brilliant strategist the empire had seen in generations, cast aside as if he were never more than a pawn. No body had ever been recovered from the cliff—just blood, chains, and silence.

Elric rubbed his eyes, trying to dispel the guilt gnawing at him.

He rose eventually, dressing in silence. The maids prepared his attire—the regal, stiff garments of royalty—but he barely noticed their presence. Every movement felt mechanical.

He stared at his reflection. Not a single thread out of place, not a hair astray. A perfect prince. A perfect lie.

His eyes dropped to the opal lily brooch lying on the dresser.

He picked it up, rolling it between his fingers. Kael had given it to him once, during one of their rare moments away from duty—when the world had been quiet and the politics had not yet poisoned everything.

“Do you believe in loyalty, Your Highness?” Kael had asked him then.

He had said yes.

And now that very loyalty had condemned Kael to death.

There was a knock at the door. A familiar one.

“Enter,” he said quietly.

Charlotte stepped inside in a wave of pastel silks and delicate perfume. Her hair was a cascade of golden curls, her sapphire eyes shining with practiced warmth.

“Elric,” she said with soft affection. “You look handsome as ever.”

He didn’t answer, merely setting the brooch aside and straightening his cuffs.

“I hope you slept well. I didn’t. I kept thinking about tonight—so many expectations. But we’ll shine, won’t we?” She moved closer, brushing imaginary lint off his shoulder.

“I suppose,” he murmured.

Charlotte tilted her head, studying him. “Still distracted?”

He didn’t respond.

“Is this about the rumors again? About Kael?”

His shoulders tensed.

Charlotte’s tone sweetened, laced with concern. “Darling, you mustn’t dwell. That man was… dangerous. A brute pretending to be noble. You saw it yourself. He disobeyed orders. Questioned everything. He wasn’t fit to stand beside you.”

He turned toward her slowly, his expression unreadable. “And yet, he saved our borders. Protected my life more than once. Bled for this empire.”

Charlotte flinched but quickly recovered. “You’re too kind, Elric. Too trusting. You always have been.”

Was that what he was? Trusting? Or had he simply been too cowardly to defend the one man who had never once demanded his trust—but earned it anyway?

“Kael is gone,” Charlotte continued, stepping even closer. “You have me now. Let’s look forward. The court expects us to be united. A future together.” "He's a traitor"

Elric stared out the window, jaw clenched.

“I wonder,” he said quietly, “how many others we will sacrifice in the name of appearances.”

Charlotte blinked. “Excuse me?”

He turned to her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Nothing.”

Her lips parted to say something else, but a knock from the hallway interrupted them.

“Your Highness, the Chancellor awaits your presence.”

Elric gave a nod. “Tell him I will be there shortly.”

Charlotte glanced at the brooch still resting on the dresser, then back at Elric. “You shouldn’t hold onto the past.”

Elric walked toward the door, pausing briefly.

“Sometimes,” he said, “the past is all we have to remember who we really are.”

And with that, he stepped into the hall, leaving the opal lily behind—yet carrying the weight of Kael’s memory in every step.

The corridor stretched long and silent ahead of him, the walls lined with portraits of past rulers—faces carved in regal arrogance. Elric’s boots echoed with a rhythm he didn’t feel; he was too caught up in the ghosts trailing behind him.

The scent of citrus polish and rosewood filled the air, familiar but suddenly distant. As he descended the grand staircase toward the council wing, the servants bowed, but none dared meet his eyes. Perhaps they, too, whispered about Kael. Perhaps they remembered the fire in Kael’s eyes, the sharp brilliance of his words that had once lit the war rooms with clarity.

He remembered how Kael had once leaned over the war table, eyes fierce, voice unwavering, dismantling enemy strategy with a single stroke. How he'd never backed down from a challenge, even when outnumbered. The empire owed him victories—no, survival. And now, what had they given in return?

A mock trial. An unmarked grave.

Elric’s steps slowed. Behind closed doors, nobles awaited him with feigned respect. There would be wine. Applause. Plans made without honor. The empire rolled on, gilded in spectacle and rot.

A servant opened the council chamber door. Elric entered, spine straight, eyes like cold steel. The room quieted at his arrival.

“Your Highness,” the Chancellor greeted with a bow.

Elric nodded, walking to his place at the head of the long obsidian table. As he sat, he caught a flicker of movement—a young page brushing past, struggling to balance a stack of scrolls. For a brief, absurd second, the boy reminded him of Kael during their early academy days—awkward, quiet, always speak when necessary,looking unintentionally silly

That memory struck like a blade—sharp, uninvited. He bit the inside of his cheek.

“Let us begin,” Elric said, voice calm, commanding.

But even as the council dove into matters of border tensions and grain shortages, Elric’s thoughts wandered. Somewhere beyond the empire’s reach, in a place no one looked for the fallen, Kael might still be alive. Or at the very least, his story had not ended.

And if Elric had any say left in this corrupted world—he would find a way to right the wrongs they'd allowed.

Even if it shattered everything.

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End of Chapter 7