The Grand Hall of Helvareth loomed with chilling grandeur. High vaulted ceilings reflected the flicker of torches, and banners of the royal house hung heavy, their gilded edges dulled by shadow. The central portrait of Queen Seraphina dominated the dais, her serene gaze seeming to pierce through the chaos of the present.
King Leopold Cassian Helion stood beneath it, shoulders rigid, hands gripping the carved edges of the throne dais. His bloodshot eyes remained fixed on the painting, each breath ragged, as though the air itself could not carry his grief.
"They have taken her from me," he said, voice low, trembling. "And in her absence, the land reeks of despair."
The hall smelled of polished marble, torch smoke, and tension. Courtiers and ministers lingered at careful distances, wary of the king's volatile temper.
Duke Alaric Vayne Destrove stepped forward, bowing deeply, his voice smooth and measured. "Your Majesty, grief is an unforgiving burden. Yet the disturbances among the immigrant population from Elarion, while tragic, were regrettably necessary to maintain order within the kingdom."
King Leopold's gaze snapped to him, eyes aflame. "Necessary? You brand the slaughter of innocents as necessity? Are we rulers or executioners?" His fist slammed the dais, sending a shiver through the carved stone.
Marquess Elias Corven Ardent moved closer, posture straight, voice calm yet insistent. "Your Majesty, the people of Elarion had committed no crime. Punishing the innocent for the sins of others will only fuel hatred and unrest. Compassion may serve Helvareth better than untempered rage."
The king whirled to face him, voice sharp and dangerous. "Compassion? While the woman I loved lies cold, while the streets are stained with blood, you ask me to temper justice with mercy?"
Duke Alaric inclined his head, a careful, false smile touching his lips. "Sire, order demands action. Delay risks betrayal. The Elarion immigrants remain an unpredictable element—"
"Lies!" Leopold roared, voice echoing through the hall. "I saw their faces! Children, women, people who sought only to live in peace. And yet you twist reality to suit your designs!"
Elias held up his hands, steadying himself. "Majesty, governing demands balance. The heart must temper the sword. Reckless vengeance weakens a crown instead of preserving it."
"Balance?" Leopold's laugh was hollow, broken. "Balance does not bring her back! Does it speak in her voice? Does it warm the void left in my bed?" His fist struck the dais again, splintering oak.
Ten-year-old Prince Arnault Augustus Bernadotte Helion stood to the side, eyes wide, knuckles pale from gripping his small hands together. His gaze flicked between the two ministers and his father. Each word carved into the boy's young mind the bitter reality of power — the rage, the betrayal, the despair.
Duke Alaric bowed once more, his smile smooth as oil. "Your Majesty, wisdom must be decisive. Weakness invites treachery. Helvareth must be steadfast, and all elements of threat addressed swiftly."
Leopold's eyes narrowed, turning ice upon the duke. "And you call yourself loyal, yet your words drip with poison. Speak plainly. Are you content to see the queen's blood stain these halls while you whisper counsel?"
"Majesty, accusations—"
"Accusations? No. I speak the truth. A serpent hides in velvet, plotting under my very nose."
Elias stepped between them, voice urgent. "Sire, restraint is strength. Consider—"
"Restraint?" The king's glare cut through him. "Shall I consider the screams in the streets? The innocent slain for convenience? The false loyalty of those who smile while plotting behind my back? Your counsel is folly!"
Prince Arnault's pulse quickened. He had been taught that one day he would inherit the throne, yet witnessing this torrent of anger and despair, the weight of that future struck him with a new clarity. The crown would not rest gently; it would burn him.
Finally, Leopold drew a trembling breath, regaining some measure of control. His gaze fell upon the boy, silence descending like a suffocating shroud.
"Arnault," he said, voice low, yet heavy with authority. "From this moment, you are my heir. Sole and legitimate. You will learn the ways of rulership, of command, and of justice tempered with vigilance. The kingdom is yours to bear as it is mine. Fail not, or Helvareth will pay the price."
The boy's knees wavered. The crown, once a distant notion of responsibility, now pressed upon him with the weight of blood, grief, and betrayal.
Duke Alaric inclined his head toward Arnault, lips curled with a smile that concealed ambition. Elias's shoulders tightened, eyes sorrowful, wishing he could shield the boy from the burdens now placed upon him.
But none could.
The crown had chosen its heir. And Prince Arnault's life, once innocent, had vanished beneath the shadow of vengeance, treachery, and despair.
Leopold's voice softened almost to a whisper, carrying the weight of doom and warning:"Learn quickly, Arnault. Helvareth's world is unforgiving. The blood that stains it will heed no one."
The young prince swallowed, understanding with chilling clarity that the future would demand every ounce of his courage, wisdom, and resolve. The boy's life had changed forever.