Price of Possession

Chapter 2:The Price of Power

Hours passed, and the sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows over the camp outside the walls of Seraphis. The sound of distant horns and drums echoed through the air, signaling the continued presence of the Hellrune forces at their doorstep.

Ser Harold Cinderfell paced impatiently beside Princess Hera, his gaze fixed on the horizon where Lord Hellrune had yet to appear. His voice broke the silence, his words laced with frustration.

"He's late," Ser Harold muttered, his eyes narrowing. "How does one arrive late to a proposal meeting? Clearly, manners are as foreign to these men as civilization itself."

Hera, though equally unsettled, forced a smile. "Let’s look on the bright side, at least he’s giving me extra time to prepare myself."

The very thought of meeting Lord Hellrune filled her with a strange sense of foreboding. The commander of the Hellrune army was a man born of both divine blood and unspeakable violence. The rumors surrounding him were unsettling—born of the God of War and a mortal woman he took by force, cursed by the God of Death, and rejected by the very earth itself. His body was said to be immune to death on the battlefield, a being too monstrous to perish. His reputation for brutality, if true, was well earned.

I cannot let myself seem frightened, Hera thought to herself, tightening her grip on the fabric of her dress. This is more than a proposal. It is a negotiation. Whatever he demands, I must be cautious not to give too much away.

Suddenly, the tense air around them shifted, replaced by the distant clanging of swords. The sounds of combat broke the stillness, followed by the echoes of screams. Ser Harold's face turned pale, and his eyes widened with dread.

"Princess, I heard swords clashing," he said, voice tinged with terror. "Pardon?" Hera replied, still not comprehending the situation.

More sounds of battle followed—these were no mere training drills or duels. These were the sounds of a real fight. It was clear that something was happening outside, something far more dangerous than the arranged proposal.

Ser Harold’s face twisted in shock. "Those aren’t from training or dueling... It’s from a battle!" He turned to Hera, his voice urgent. "Princess, Sir Kleinfelter must have returned!"

Hera blinked in confusion. "What?"

"At last, he has brought reinforcements and is attacking Hellrune!" Ser Harold exclaimed.

"Oh..." Hera said, her heart fluttering with cautious hope. "He's returned?"

"If he has returned, does this mean I don’t have to accept the proposal?" Hera asked, feeling the weight of her dilemma slowly lift, even if only for a moment.

Ser Harold’s face lit with relief. "Indeed, but first, let us get you somewhere safe. We'll regroup and assess the situation later! The Hellrune forces will be too occupied with the battle to question our absence. Hurry, Princess!"

Hera didn’t hesitate. She rushed toward the exit of the tent, but just as she neared the door, a figure appeared in the entryway.

A man—a towering figure who seemed to fill the tent with an overpowering presence. Hera stopped in her tracks, unable to move. The light from outside blinded her, and she squinted, struggling to make sense of the shadowed figure before her.

The man spoke, his voice rich, dark, and commanding. "My apologies for being late, Princess of Seraphis."

Hera froze. The voice was deep, smooth, and strangely comforting. She could hardly move a muscle, her mind unable to process what stood before her.

This man—the bastard son of the God of War? He was huge. Tall. Dark. He smelled of blood and iron, and yet... there was a strange beauty in him that made her heart stutter.

He spoke again, his gaze never leaving her. "Please, have a seat, Princess."

His words were polite, yet carried an unmistakable force behind them. Ser Harold, visibly trembling, helped Hera sit down in the chair she had been standing beside moments before. Hera’s body felt frozen, the man's presence weighing heavily on her chest, making it almost impossible to breathe. His aura alone was enough to make her feel as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall.

Despite his barbaric appearance, something in the way he held himself made Hera realize this was no simple savage. His presence was both regal and terrifying. This is no ordinary man, she thought, her mind racing. This is Lord Hellrune.

"I am honored to meet you, Lord Hellrune," Hera said, her voice wavering slightly. "Might I ask why you kept me waiting?"

"There was an ambush," Lord Hellrune replied without missing a beat.

Hera’s heart skipped a beat. An ambush? she thought. Does this mean reinforcements have arrived?

"An ambush? Surely, you have more pressing matters than a proposal. Let’s reschedule our discussion for later," Hera suggested, her voice tinged with urgency.

But Hellrune shook his head, his gaze never leaving hers. "There is no need. It has been taken care of." His tone was flat, his focus entirely on Hera. "Bring it forward."

A knight entered the tent, stepping forward with a blood-soaked sword in hand. Hera's eyes widened in horror as she recognized the blade—it was Sir Kleinfelter’s sword.

Her stomach dropped, and a chill ran through her. No... she thought, her mind reeling in disbelief. Please, no...

The knight placed the sword carefully on the table before them, its crimson-stained blade gleaming under the lantern light. Hera's heart clenched with grief. Her hope, so briefly sparked by the news of reinforcements, was shattered in an instant.

Lord Hellrune spoke again, his voice smooth but chilling. "As you can see, the ambush was dealt with."

Hera could hardly breathe. "So what is your response to my proposal?" he asked, his eyes dark and unreadable.

Don’t panic, Hera urged herself. I need to get myself out of this mess...

Before she could speak, she pressed her fingers into her palms, willing herself to remain calm. "Before that, I'd like you to show proper manners, Lord Hellrune," she said, her voice firm.

"Manners?" Lord Hellrune raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Yes," Hera replied, her voice steady but cold. "I do not know why you decided to bring this, but in Seraphis, one does not brandish a blade when discussing a marriage."

Lord Hellrune regarded her with a flicker of interest. "Manners, you say? Very well."

With a casual flick of his wrist, he swiped the sword from the table with a force that made the air crackle. The sound of the sword hitting the floor was deafening, its impact leaving a deep, resonating echo through the tent. Hera watched, frozen, as the sword flew across the room, the power behind the simple motion more terrifying than anything she had ever experienced.

"I had no intentions of disrespecting you," Hellrune said, his gaze never straying from hers. "I only wished to show you the one who wielded that sword must have been the reason for you to refuse my proposal... but he no longer exists."

His eyes locked onto hers, his expression unreadable. "So," he asked, his voice low and deliberate, "what is your response to my proposal?"

Hera’s mind reeled. He knows. She felt her heart pound painfully in her chest. He knows who tried to ambush him. He knows everything.

Her fists clenched, her nails digging into her skin until she felt the sharp sting of blood. I may have underestimated him. This man does not wish to simply marry me. He wishes to take everything. Just like a beast savoring the thrill of a hunt, before devouring its prey. He intends to consume everything in Seraphis.

She raised her head, her gaze burning with defiance. "Lord Hellrune," she began, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her, "the owner of that sword was none other than the knight commander of House Ravencrest and my beloved."

Lord Hellrune’s expression remained unchanging. "I am aware."

Dear God, please let him fall for this lie, Hera thought desperately.

"I have already shared a bed with my lover," she declared, her voice unwavering. "And now I bear his child. A child with no Hellrune blood.Do you still wish to propose to me?" Hera thought he will not accept her. No man would ever accept a woman who has a child in her womb with the woman she loved.

Behind her, Ser Harold gasped. "Princess..."

Hera watched as Lord Hellrune’s dead eyes remained locked on hers, as cold and implacable as ever.

"It is clear that what you seek through this proposal is the right to rule over Seraphis," Hera continued, her voice firm with purpose. "But you must understand, no matter what becomes of our union, the future ruler of Seraphis shall be my child."

A flicker of hesitation passed over Hellrune's face, but he quickly masked it. "A child, you say?" His thoughts swirled, calculating. The cost is higher than I anticipated.

He leaned in, his voice low and filled with certainty. "If I accept, that child shall rule. Then will you marry me?"

Princess Hera blinked in shock. What...?

"Then bear him," Lord Hellrune continued, his voice dark and possessive. "But know this... I shall have you, Princess."

The air between them thickened, the words hanging like a weight in the room. Hera's heart hammered in her chest. This was no longer a mere proposal. It was a claim, an ownership that would tear her kingdom apart if she allowed it.