After the word of Lucas's pregnancy got out in the castle everyone was ordered to treat him with care, every thing he did had to be supervised even his food. After all he was bearing the crown princes child, though everyone celebrated the new life that was about to be brought into this life some one couldn't stand all the attention that Lucas was receiving.
If Prince Dorian was not going to take stand she was going to take matters into her own hands, she knew the grown didn't belong to Aric the Crown was rightfully Dorian's and she wasn't going to let a village born child to take over the thrown.
Veleria paced in her chambers, her fingers drumming against her arms as she glared out of the window. The echoes of laughter and celebration from the castle halls grated on her nerves. Servants fawned over Lucas as though he were already royalty, and Aric, basking in the glow of his future as a father, seemed untouchable.
It disgusted her.
She clenched her fists. Dorian is the rightful heir. The throne belongs to him, not to Aric or his precious villager consort.
Veleria's mind churned with plans, each one more cunning than the last. If Dorian wouldn't fight for his birthright, she would do it for him. After all, wasn't she the one who had always seen his potential, even when their father dismissed him as weak?
She stopped pacing, her lips curling into a cold smile. "If the kingdom needs a true heir," she whispered to herself, "then I'll make sure it gets one."
The next morning, Veleria made her way to Dorian's chambers. She found him seated at his desk, a quill in hand, staring at a piece of parchment. He looked up as she entered, his expression weary.
"Veleria," he said flatly, setting the quill down. "What do you want now?"
She shut the door behind her and crossed the room, her movements deliberate. "I came to talk some sense into you, dear brother."
Dorian raised an eyebrow. "If this is about Aric and his heir—"
"It is about them," she interrupted, her voice sharp. "Don't you see what's happening? While you sit here drowning in self-doubt, Aric is securing his claim to the throne. Once that child is born, there will be no question of his place in the royal line."
Dorian leaned back in his chair, his expression darkening. "And what would you have me do, Veleria? Challenge him? Overthrow my own brother? I'm not interested in playing your games."
"It's not a game!" she snapped. "This is about your destiny. Our father may be blind, but I am not. You were born to rule, Dorian. Not Aric, and certainly not some village-born consort and their child."
Dorian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Enough, Veleria. I've told you before—I don't have the desire of being king anymore."
"If father is wants to give the kingdom to Aric, so be it."
Veleria stared at him in disbelief, her jaw tightening. "You don't have the desire anymore? Is that what you're calling it? Weakness cloaked in resignation?"
Dorian's gaze hardened, his voice dropping to a warning tone. "Watch your words, Veleria."
"No, you watch," she shot back, her eyes blazing. "I've stood by for years, waiting for you to claim what is rightfully yours. You may have convinced yourself that stepping aside is noble, but all I see is cowardice. Do you think Aric will protect you when you're no longer useful to him? Or that Lucas, with his peasant roots, will honor the family name? You're condemning this kingdom to ruin."
Dorian opened his mouth to reply, but a knock at the door interrupted them. A servant stepped in, bowing deeply. "Your Highnesses, the council meeting is about to begin. Your presence is requested."
Veleria stepped back, her expression smoothing into an unreadable mask. "This ends here, I never want to have this cover again Valeria." Dorian said as he got up from his seat and walked out of his chambers
Veleria stood frozen for a moment, the sharp finality of Dorian's words cutting deeper than she expected. Her fists clenched at her sides, her carefully controlled mask slipping just enough to reveal the anger simmering beneath.
"This ends here?" she whispered to herself, a bitter edge in her voice. "No, brother, this is only the beginning."
Her mind churned with possibilities as she composed herself. Dorian might want to wash his hands of the throne, but she refused to let his passivity dictate the kingdom's fate—or her own.
With a final glance around his empty chambers, she left, the faint click of her heels echoing in the dimly lit corridor.
...…..
In the council chamber, Dorian entered to find Aric seated at the head of the long table, Lucas by his side. The room buzzed with the hum of advisors and nobles exchanging pleasantries, but all eyes turned to him as he approached.
"Shall we get started!" Dorian smiled as he took a seat at the head of the table facing his brother who was sitting at the other end.
He stared at Aric who sat unbothered, Aric was never really interested in royal affairs. He only say through meetings like this because of his majesty's orders.
"So, how our the trade routes with the eastern side??" Dorian asked looking at the advisors
A few of the advisors exchanged wary glances before Lord Harrick, a seasoned veteran of the court, spoke up.
"The trade routes to the east have become increasingly unstable, Your Highness," he began, his voice calm but tinged with concern. "There have been disruptions due to disputes between the local lords and neighboring regions. Supplies are being delayed, and the merchants are becoming more vocal in their complaints."
Dorian nodded thoughtfully, his expression impassive. "I see. And what measures have been taken so far to address these issues?"
"We've sent emissaries to the eastern provinces," Lord Harrick continued, "but their responses have been tepid at best. There is growing unrest among the people, and the lords there are becoming more resistant to outside influence."
Dorian turned his gaze to the other advisors, his tone quiet but firm. "Seems like we have to take matters in our own hands, since I've experienced eastern provinces it's only right that I go and check out what to problem is."
"We will need a few loyal man to assist, if we let things get any worse this kingdom will face grate damages with our allies."
The room fell into a tense silence as Dorian's words hung in the air. The advisors shifted uneasily, aware of the gravity of the situation. The mention of letting things escalate further sent a ripple of concern through the council, for it was well known that the eastern provinces were vital to the kingdom's trade and alliances.
Lord Harrick was the first to speak, his voice cautious but respectful. "Your Highness, your experience in the eastern provinces is indeed invaluable, but sending a prince to personally intervene—especially with such unrest—may send the wrong message. It could imply a lack of confidence in the local leadership, and that may only escalate tensions further."
Dorian's expression remained steady. He had expected this pushback. "If sending a prince is what it takes to resolve this issue swiftly, then so be it. The situation cannot wait. A lack of decisive action will only breed more unrest. I'll bring order, not through force, but through diplomacy."
Aric, who had been listening silently, shifted in his seat. His eyes, usually distant during these matters, sharpened for a brief moment. "Dorian's right," Aric spoke up, his voice calm, yet carrying a quiet authority. "If things continue as they are, our allies may begin to question our resolve. It's better to act now than regret it later."
Dorian glanced at his brother, noting the rare moment of agreement between them. Aric was often uninterested in the affairs of the kingdom, but when his attention was caught, it usually meant there was a deeper reason. Dorian wasn't sure if this was one of those rare moments of sincerity or if Aric had another agenda.
Lord Elias, the young advisor, spoke next. "If Your Highness does decide to go, we must ensure he is well-protected. The unrest in the east has already led to skirmishes between the local lords. We cannot afford any mishaps."
"I will take only the most loyal men," Dorian replied, his voice firm. "And I expect to return with the situation under control. The eastern provinces are important, but they will not hold the kingdom hostage with their infighting."
The council members exchanged glances, and slowly, the murmurs of agreement began. It was clear that Dorian's decision to intervene was gaining traction, despite the risks.
Aric finally turned his attention back to Dorian. "If you're certain this is the best course of action, then proceed, Dorian. But remember, any damage to our relations with the eastern lords could have repercussions for years to come."
Dorian's smile returned, a mixture of determination and subtle defiance. "I'm aware of the stakes, Aric. Rest assured, I won't fail."
With that, the room fell silent as the decision was made. Dorian had secured his position for the time being, but he knew the true challenge lay ahead in the eastern provinces, where diplomacy and strength would have to walk a fine line.
As the meeting adjourned, the weight of the coming journey began to settle on Dorian. He would need to be cautious, calculating, and perhaps even ruthless, depending on what awaited him in the east. But one thing was certain: He would not allow the kingdom to fall to chaos, especially not while Aric sat idly by.
As Aric got up to walk out the room Dorian stopped him, "I heard Lucas has beard a child, congratulations." Aric stopped in his tracks and smiled. "Thank you brother, but you don't have to worry. I'm not taking what's rightfully yours I don't care for it my time will come one day."
"What if I don't want the crown anymore, would you take it?"
Aric turned slowly, his smile fading as he studied Dorian's expression. For a moment, there was silence between them, the weight of Dorian's question hanging heavy in the air. The room, now nearly empty except for a few lingering advisors and guards, seemed to grow quieter as the brothers faced each other.
Aric's voice was calm but laced with curiosity as he finally responded. "What if you don't want the crown? That's not like you, Dorian. That's all you've ever wanted."
Dorian's gaze remained steady, his tone measured. "Hypothetically, Aric. If I chose a different path, if the responsibility of the kingdom was no longer mine to bear—would you take it? Would you lead?"
Aric let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "You're serious about this, aren't you? But let me ask you something in return. Do you think I'd be a good king, Dorian? Be honest."
Dorian hesitated, the slightest flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. He had always viewed Aric as indifferent, too carefree to take on the immense responsibility of the throne. But in this moment, he realized he didn't know his brother as well as he thought.
"I think," Dorian began slowly, "That, even if I'm the first born the throne has never been mine. Since the day you came into this world as the real boy you were supposed to be Father has been grooming you to be the next leader of this kingdom"
Aric frowned, the weight of Dorian's words settling over him. "What are you talking about? Father's never treated me like I was meant to lead. He's always focused on you—your training, your education, your place as the crown prince."
Dorian let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You've always been blind to it, haven't you? Father may have shaped me for the throne, but he saw you as the true heir. His perfect son. The one with charm, with the heart to unite people. No matter how hard I worked, I always felt like a placeholder, waiting for the moment he would decide you were ready."
Aric's expression shifted, a mixture of confusion and unease. "That's ridiculous. I've never wanted the throne, Dorian. I've never tried to take anything from you."
"And yet," Dorian continued, his voice quieter but laced with a sharp edge, "here you are, sitting at Father's right hand, celebrated for producing an heir, while I'm the one left questioning everything. Whether I even belong here. Whether the crown was ever truly mine to claim."
Aric stepped closer, his tone softening. "I never asked for any of this, Dorian. I don't want to take your place. If you feel like Father favored me, that was never my intention. I don't even care about the crown."
"But you will," Dorian said, his voice carrying a mix of resignation and something close to sadness. "If I step aside, you'll take it. Not because you want it, but because you'll convince yourself it's the right thing to do—for Lucas, for your child, for the kingdom."
Aric's jaw tightened, his thoughts racing as he tried to find the right words. "And what about you, Dorian? What do you want? If it's not the throne, then what is it?"
For a moment, Dorian didn't answer. His gaze dropped to the floor, as though the weight of the question was too much to bear. Finally, he looked up, meeting Aric's eyes with a rare vulnerability.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I've spent my whole life being what everyone expected me to be. I don't even know who I am without the crown."
The admission caught Aric off guard, silencing him. After a long pause, he reached out, placing a hand on Dorian's shoulder. "Then maybe it's time you figure that out. Not for Father, or the kingdom, or anyone else. For yourself."
Dorian didn't pull away, but the walls he'd built over years of duty and expectation remained firmly in place. "And what if the kingdom falls apart while I'm searching for myself?"
Aric gave him a faint, almost teasing smile. "Then I guess it's a good thing you have a little brother who knows how to keep things steady."
Dorian huffed a reluctant laugh, the tension between them easing ever so slightly. "You're insufferable, you know that?"
"Part of my charm," Aric said with a shrug, turning to leave. "Think about it, Dorian. You deserve to know what you really want."
As Aric's footsteps faded down the hall, Dorian stood alone, the silence of the empty chamber pressing in around him. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to imagine a life beyond the crown—and what it might mean to finally live it.
TBC