The first light of dawn brushed into Ammon's face, coaxing him from the depth of sleep. Golden warmth slipped through the curtains of his unfurnished chamber, He lingered a moment longer, listening to the faint hum of magic beyond the castle walls, he could hear music, celebrations and laughter. At first, he didn't quite understand the reason for the celebration, but then he realized.
His brother was coming home.
Prince kael of Dravencia - the kingdom's pride - returning from his conquest in the northern wilds. The air carried the scent of burning oil and silver fire, a scent Ammon had come to associate with his brother's triumph.
With great curiosity, He rosed from his bed to the balcony, but then Ammon's reflection in the glass caught his eyes - a handsome figure in simple robes, a prince in name but not in power.
They will not be cheering for me, he thought.
A knock came at his door, "My Prince", said a guard bowing low. Your brother processssion approaches. The king request your presence at the gates. Ammon nodded and turn to his unfurnished wardrobe and pulled out a ceremonious garb of crimson and black.
As he walked into the Great Hall, the courtiers bowed, not out of respect but obligation. At the far end of the hall the massive door opened with a rush of sound and sunlight - Kael entered.
The brothers stood face to face, "Brother ", I was beginning to think you turn to stone while I was away. Prince Kael said mocking.
Ammon met his gaze evenly. "Welcome home Kael I see the fire hasn't dimmed in you".
The king said nothing. He sat upon his throne, eyes unreadable, watching the sons of Dravencia as though the future itself balance between them.
At the inner ourt of Dravencia, was Kael, laughing and enjoying the moment, all things seemed to be under his feet, then slowly he stood up.
Kael basking in his glory, "one more test before the feast". he said in his casual tone but his eyes hungry. A duel - the people would love to see their princes together again". Ammon knew what he meant a public humiliation under the guise of sport. Still, he nodded. "As you wish brother ".
The duel began, Kael moved like storm- Swift, bright and merciless. Every strike sent arcs fire cutting through the air. Ammon defended, his catching sparks, his boots sliding the scorched marble floor. Each blow pushed him backward, but he didn't yield. Kale's strike grew more faster, more reckless, driven not only to win but to prove a point to himself, to the crowd, to their father.
Ammon strength grew ragged, sweat and ash clung to his skin. But he still stood.
Then came the final clash. Kale's blade wreathed in flame shattering Ammon's steel. The sound echoed through the court like thunder. Fragments of Ammon's sword scattered across the floor.
Gaps rippled through the watching nobles. Kael lowered his sword in victory but Ammon didn't kneel.
You've won brother. He said. The air was filled was filled with mockery and cheers - all at once, something had shifted in the hearts of those watching but they seem to have ignored it.
Even broken, Ammon's unsheathed blade gleamed - not in power but in defiance.