The midnight watch moved like ghosts through the corridors of Bethel Keep. Torches guttered in iron sconces, casting long, uneasy shadows on banners that bore the house sigil: a silver rose in full bloom. In every hallway, the castle guards exchanged furtive glances. None dared speak aloud their suspicions—loyalty demanded silence. Yet in the quiet click of bootheels and the careful easing of doors, there was a shared, unspoken dread: something was stirring in the great heart of the kingdom.
At the rusted iron door leading to the service passages, Sergeant Halworth paused. He pressed an ear to the wood, listening. Faint voices, low and urgent, drifted from beyond. He frowned. Orders were orders: no eavesdropping. No meddling. He wiped sweat from his brow and continued his patrol, the tension coiling in his gut like a rising tide. Down in the training yard, sentries tightened their grips on pikes. In the guardroom, weapons were cleaned with thorough care, as though polishing steel could ward off treachery. Every man knew, but none spoke—Bethel Keep was a fortress of secrets.
⸻
Half a league away, in the humble inn that sheltered the Ashen Blades, Annie Cole hurried through the common room, cloak drawn tightly around her. She had slipped her patrol early, haunted by the fragments she had overheard. Now, glancing over her shoulder at the sleeping innkeeper and the few dozing travelers, she burst into the back chamber where Leo Nerona and his warband were gathering.
Dorothy looked up from laying out their travel packs. Kenan's eyes narrowed, and Zeno leaned forward, blades half-drawn from their sheaths. Lex set aside a cracked mug of ale, his club thumping the floor in warning thumps.
"Annie," Leo said, rising. His cloak swirled black and silver. "What's wrong?"
She drew in a breath, every muscle trembling. "The castle walls… they may fall." She thrust a hand forward. "I heard them plotting—Lord Resol and his conspirators. They speak of debts and blood-tithes, of silencing the heirs and placing Eren on the throne. I—" Her voice cracked. "I thought you should know."
Leo's eyes darkened, and he crossed his arms. "Annie, you're my sister—I trust you to handle what happens within those walls. But this…" He shook his head. "This isn't our fight. Our contract doesn't extend to palace coups."
Annie's lip trembled, and a flush rose to her cheeks. "I'm a guard, Leo. My oath is to protect the Bethels."
He stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I know you can handle it. You're the best blade in Neros." His words were simple, but the pride in his voice made Annie's heart swell—her brother, the legendary mercenary, believing in her. She ducked her head, and the heat of his praise turned to a bashful glow on her cheeks.
⸻
Dorothy stirred, her green-gold eyes scanning the room. She rose and moved to Leo's side. "I feel it, too," she said quietly. "The air is charged—like the moment before a storm breaks. If we stay, we risk being caught in the crossfire of palace lies."
Liv hoisted her bow across her back. "She's right. Bethel Keep is a hornet's nest tonight." She glanced at the others. "We should move."
Leo hesitated, his gaze flicking to the inn's shuttered windows. Through one, he could see the turrets of the castle, dark against the starry sky. Finally, he nodded. "All of you—mount up and ride out. We leave at dawn."
At that, Annie's eyes flared with unexpected relief. "Please brother, lend me a hand. No matter how small it is."
Leo's brow lifted. "I can't. Right now I'm not even sure leaving you here is the right choice, go back home."
She squared her shoulders. "Leo! No. Im a soldier who made a vow to protect. If you won't help, I'll do it myself."
He studied her for a moment longer, then sighed. "No." He thought for a second "Kenan and Lex—stay behind. Protect her, until I return."
Lex's broad face split into a grin. "A pleasure, miss." He bowed with exaggerated gallantry.
Kenan merely offered a solemn nod. "She's in good hands."
Annie blinked back tears of gratitude. "Okay, this will do. Thank you," she whispered, voice thick. "My little brother."
Leo's lips curved. "Rest easy, sister."
⸻
High in the royal chambers, King John Bethel lay back on his silken couch, one booted leg draped over the armrest. A crystal decanter and two goblets stood on the beside table; he poured himself a measure of red wine and sipped, eyes hooded. His features were still—smooth as marble—but beneath the calm, a thousand calculations turned. He had sensed the undercurrents tonight: the rigid formation of his guards, the sudden hush in council chambers, the muted tension in Princess Madison's messages. Someone dared to conspire against him.
He took another sip, letting the wine's warmth spread. In the shadows behind his throne, two silent admirals of his council stood, waiting. He did not flinch. "Prepare my counterstroke," he said at last, voice low. "When the traitors move, we will unmask them. And this debt—this blood-tithe—will be claimed in their own veins."
One of the admirals inclined his head. "Yes, Your Majesty."
As dawn crept toward Bethel Keep, King John slept—yet slept with open eyes.
⸻
In the hidden privacy of his chambers, Prince Mason Bethel reclined on a velvet divan, robes loosened at the throat, his dark hair tousled from the joust. By his side knelt Zelda, his personal attendant—once his mother's confidante, now the boy's secret solace. She brushed stray locks from his forehead and fed him grapes from a silver bowl.
"So brave you were yesterday," she murmured, slipping an arm around his shoulders. "Sir Nightshade was no easy foe."
Mason laughed, leaning into her touch. "I didn't beat him, Zelda." He offered her a slow, teasing smile. "But I made him draw both daggers."
Her eyes sparkled. "You made him draw both daggers? But I heard he always draws both daggers," she repeated, voice thick. "It's the leader Leo who never draws his other sword. However, My prince—and knight and margin of victory. Well done."
He leaned forward, resting his chin on her hand. "Forgive me for flirting, but I never thanked you." The way he said it—half-jesting, half-sincere—made her heart flutter. "For staying by my side. In this castle full of whispers, your counsel means more than any knight's blade."
Zelda's cheeks warmed. She set aside the grape bowl. "You know I would do anything for you, my prince."
Mason leaned in closer, the candlelight painting his features in soft gold. "Then promise me you'll watch over Madison, too. I fear… tomorrow may bring more than tournaments."
She studied him, understanding the weight in his eyes. "I promise," she said solemnly, voice hushed. "No harm shall come to either of you—as long as I draw breath."
Mason's grin returned, and he reached to tuck a lock of her silver-streaked hair behind her ear. "Then draw breath," he whispered, "and stay with me tonight."
⸻
Down in the castle's lower galleries, Annie moved with silent purpose. Cloaked and hooded, she sought out Captain Roland Darrow, the twins' maternal uncle and her own commander. She found him in a quiet blackwood antechamber, briefing two lieutenants on guard rotations.
"Captain," Annie said, voice soft but urgent.
Roland turned, wariness flickering in his dark eyes. "Annie? You're off duty."
She drew him aside, pressing her lips close to his ear. "I learned something… alarming. Lord Resol and his circle plot to sacrifice Mason and Madison as payment for some ancient blood-debt. They plan to elevate Eren—my orders, from beyond. I swear it on my blade."
Roland's face paled, and he closed his fist on her arm. "Where did you hear this?"
"I—overheard in the council wing. They spoke of life for life, tithes paid in royal blood. The seer's prophecy—a daughter for a son. I thought it was rumor, but…" She swallowed. "I saw the names."
Roland's jaw clenched. "We must protect the twins." He lifted a trembling hand. "We need to keep them safe. Maybe even smuggle them out somehow. The Ashen blades, yes we hire them since they are here in the capital."
Annie nodded, tears welling. "Already ahead of you captain. However, we only get two of their men. Kenan and Lex. Madison and Mason, I owe their mother so much. Anything for them."
Roland swallowed hard, gaze drifting to the closed door. "Very good. Be ready. When I give the signal, we move."
⸻
In a hidden alcove off the grand council chamber, Queen Cynthia sat with her conspirators—Lord Resol, Chancellor Varric, and two dark-robed envoys from beyond the border. Candlelight danced on obsidian visages.
"We have delayed long enough," Varric declared. "The king stirs, the seer grows bold. We must strike before he fortifies his defenses."
Chancellor Varric spread a map on the table, pointing to the corridor leading to the royal apartments. "At dawn, we will release the guard dogs—poison in their feed. Roland and his loyalists sleep ill tonight. We strike when the twins retire. Eren shall claim the crown."
Lord Resol's pale lips curved. "And the debt will be paid."
Cynthia leaned forward, fingers steepled. "Timing is everything. Roland suspects nothing. When he moves his company, the children will be vulnerable. I will be at my prayer vigil until third bell. Then…then is our hour."
One envoy whispered in a low tongue; the others nodded. In the flickering glow, Cynthia's eyes shone with triumph. "Let no mercy stand between us and the throne."
⸻
Outside, the moon dipped low, and the first hush of dawn crept into Bethel Keep's corridors. On two fronts, plans were laid: one to save the rightful heirs, the other to sacrifice them. And between these destinies stood Annie Cole and the Ashen Blades—a sister and a mercenary band bound by blood and honor.
In the stillness before the storm, the threads of fate drew taut. Each player—brother and sister, prince and princess, king and queen, knight and conspirator—prepared to enact their roles in the night's grand tragedy. When the bell tolled, the castle's walls would tremble with betrayal, loyalty, and the echo of steel. The question was no longer who would win the throne, but who would survive the dawn.