_______
Hakan
A Few Days Later…
A few days later, time was no longer a flowing river, but a stagnant, suffocating pool around me. Each day bled into the next without distinction, a monotony heavy with the echo of her absence. Ever since that night—since Lucina left—the palace had become a hollow cage, its golden halls and towering spires nothing more than silent witnesses to my despair.
The memory of her departure was a poison in my veins, a fire in my soul. Every detail remained seared into me: the pale determination in her eyes, the quiver of her lips as she whispered her final farewell, the soft, floral scent that lingered even after she was gone, the cold, unyielding press of her hands as they pushed me away. That image—beautiful, sorrowful, untouchable—haunted every waking moment.
I had tried. Gods, how I had tried.
I went to the Queen's Palace, my steps faltering, my pride stripped bare, to beg for forgiveness. But she refused me. The cold stone walls stared back like silent judges, and the guards would not meet my gaze. Not a single crack in her resolve. Not a single moment granted to plead, to explain, to grasp the tenuous thread of what had once bound us. The weight of guilt pressed upon me, sharp as a blade, driving me to my knees in the empty corridors.
Since then, I've felt hollow—emptier than any throne could fill. I rule, I command, I sit through councils, yet my soul is locked in that moment: the moment she walked away. Her tear-filled eyes, so filled with love and finality, haunt me more than any specter ever could.
I was trapped in an audience, forced to listen to the drone of ministers and advisors. Their words were muffled, distant, like whispers behind a thick curtain. My thoughts, tangled and wild, were a battlefield of longing and regret.
"…Are you listening, Your Majesty?"
The question cut through the haze, yet I only gave a noncommittal glare, my mind stubbornly elsewhere.
"YOUR MAJESTY!" The official's voice finally rose, slicing through the fog like steel.
I lifted my head slowly, rubbing my brow. My concentration had been shattered. The official's nervousness was palpable as he shuffled documents, silver hair falling over his shoulder. What pressing news could possibly matter when the weight of her absence consumed me?
"Lucina will depart for the Great Temple tomorrow," he said, his voice careful now, almost reverent.
The words struck me like ice. My chest tightened, and a faint flush of shock rose against the cold, ornate walls of the chamber. Of course, I knew—her departure had long been scheduled—but hearing it confirmed, spoken aloud, made the separation real again, cruelly so.
"Oh…" I managed, my voice strangled in my throat. Another chance lost. Another boundary set that I could not, would not cross. She was leaving, and perhaps… perhaps this was truly what she needed.
The official continued, oblivious to the storm he had ignited merely by mentioning her name. "…The Elders have agreed to help as well. The schedule will be very tight, but if we use what we already have…"
I did not hear him. My hand clenched into a fist on the polished oak of the table, white-knuckled, a futile attempt to contain the tempest of pain. Lucina… I whispered her name as both curse and prayer, a plea to the heavens. Where did it all go wrong? Was it me? Was it fate? My heart thudded violently against my ribs, each beat a denial of the cruel finality I feared was true.
The official, sensing I had reached the edge of distraction, hurriedly concluded his report. "And so, with these preparations, we should be able to make it work."
I did not argue. Did not analyze. My strength had deserted me. "Fine. Leave it to you," I muttered, voice hollow. "I'm tired. I wish to rest."
He bowed deeply, understanding the command to leave, and quietly withdrew. The click of the massive doors closing behind him echoed through the empty chamber, a cruel punctuation in the silence.
I slumped back into my seat, head falling into my hands. A sigh escaped me, unsteady, broken. The King—the ruler, the figure of power—was exhausted. But beneath the crown, beneath the iron and gold, the man who loved her was shattered.
______
---
The Next Day
The morning sun spilled across the Grand Palace in a harsh, unfeeling glare. Its brilliance mocked my grief as I watched from the high balcony. Lucina stood below, poised for her journey to the Great Temple. Her gown was simple, soft, almost ethereal, a contrast to the weight of the departure it heralded. Her suitcase lay at her feet—a tangible symbol of the distance she was placing between us.
She was beautiful, radiant in a light that made the palace's grandeur seem cold and lifeless.
"My Lady," a small voice quavered.
One of her handmaidens, a girl barely more than a child, stood with tears streaming down her face. "Do you really have to leave?"
Lucina knelt, brushing the girl's hair gently, her expression tender, serene. Even in this moment, she inspired devotion, commanded loyalty, and drew the hearts of all who served her. Another servant, a woman with dark hair, cried softly, grief etched into every line of her face. "What am I going to do without you?"
Lucina held her close, a soft, comforting embrace, and the girl's sobs echoed the truth I could not bear to speak aloud. I had lost more than a Queen; I had lost the one soul who brought warmth to a world that thrived on cold politics. She was light in the darkness of my reign, and now, she was walking away into a life I could not follow.
Her departure was absolute, a final decree that the life we might have had together was over. I remained above, unseen, the King who ruled a vast kingdom yet possessed nothing of what truly mattered. The sun, indifferent, shone down with all the brilliance of a world that had moved on without her.
---
The official's voice rattled on, detailing the frantic preparations for Lucina's trip. "…The Elders have agreed to help as well. The schedule will be very tight, but if we use what we already have—"
I had long ceased listening. My mind was trapped in the relentless spiral of grief, guilt, and rage. Her image, so vivid and alive in my mind, tormented me. "LUCINA…" I whispered the name like a prayer and a curse at once, my throat tight, my hands clenching into fists until my knuckles whitened.
Are you really going to leave without seeing me one last time? My silent scream reverberated through my chest, yet no sound escaped. Where had it gone wrong? Were her words right? Was our love truly doomed from the very start? Each question twisted the knife further.
The official concluded, his words distant and hollow in my ears. "And so, with these preparations, we should be able to make it work."
I could endure no more. "Fine. I'll leave it to you. I'm tired, so I want to get some rest." My voice was rough, frayed at the edges, an audible confession of the battle waging within me. The man before me nodded, bowing with meticulous respect. "I shall take my leave now," he murmured, retreating as the heavy doors slammed shut with a resonant glack. Alone, I buried my face in my hands, releasing a strained, aching sigh. The silence pressed down like stone, unyielding and suffocating.
Dawn broke over the palace with a merciless brightness, sunlight glinting off domes and gilded arches in a way that mocked the emptiness inside me. Lucina stood poised, her soft, pale gown whispering against the stone floor as she prepared to leave. Her composure was unwavering, though a gentle sorrow hovered behind her serene eyes.
A small figure darted forward—Titi, her handmaiden—tears streaking her face. "My Lady… Do you really have to leave?"
Lucina knelt, enfolding the girl in a comforting hug. "Titi… you can't leave your family behind just for me. Don't cry. I'll write to you often." Her words, though calm, carried the weight of inevitability, a finality that made the young girl cling to her all the tighter.
Nearby,gillai, her loyal retainer, stood tall, his expression etched with worry and quiet desperation. "What am I going to do without you…? I should just go with you…"
Lucina drew herself up, taking a deliberate, determined step. Her gaze was resolute, even as a subtle tremor betrayed the depth of her own grief. "The longer I stay here, the more regrets I'll have," she whispered, a soft decree of her own destiny.
Gillai moved closer. "If you're okay with it, I'd like to go with you."
She paused, letting her white hair fall across her shoulders, and shook her head slightly. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm okay. You still have responsibilities here. Help the others and continue your research."
Even in her departure, her clarity of purpose and compassion shone. Hakan accepted, silent but understanding, and took her bag. The leather latch clicked sharply—a punctuated finality that echoed across the courtyard. "Where's the carriage?" he asked, scanning the palace gates. "It should be ready to leave now. The Cardinal's waiting for you."
Lucina gave Titi a final, gentle pat, and together they walked toward the carriage, Hakan slightly ahead carrying her belongings, the girl clinging close to Lucina's side. Each step was a reminder of what had been lost, the distance between us growing with every heartbeat.
Authors pov
Lucina's departure set a darker game into motion almost immediately.
From the shadows of the palace dungeon, the cell doors groaned open with a chilling creak. Giaret, pale and composed in a simple gown, stepped into the light, greeted by her liberators—figures whose loyalties were shadowed in ambiguity, whether religious or political.
"Congratulations on your release, Your Highness," they intoned, their voices echoing with hidden motives.
A meeting was swiftly convened.
"You will have heard about Lucina's departure," a dark-haired vassal stated, stepping forward with deliberate intent. "His Majesty's vassals are preparing for your marriage. We need to adjust our plans."
Giaret's eyes gleamed with ambition. "How?" she asked, already plotting, her lips curling into a faint, malicious smirk.
"The King is distracted by Lucina's absence," the vassal whispered conspiratorially. "We'll take advantage of this… and start a rebellion during the wedding."
Giaret brushed back her long hair with a flick of her hand, a cold glint in her gaze. "Hmm… then you'll marry the new King and become Queen, Your Highness," she mused, her voice sharp, commanding. "I don't care what you do… as long as I become Queen of this kingdom."
In the ceremonial hall, preparations were underway. Fabrics were measured, accessories arranged. A muscular attendant bowed before Giaret, who already sat in judgment of the designs. "Perfect. Use those," she commanded.
The stage was set. While the Dragon King languished in grief over his lost Queen, conspirators moved swiftly, intent on seizing power during the very ceremony meant to secure his reign.
The official finished his report, his words precise but weighed down with urgency. "The Elders have agreed to help as well. The schedule will be very tight, but if we use what we already have…"
I heard nothing. The words dissolved into the roaring silence inside my skull. Lucina… The name was sharper than any blade, a shard of ice lodged in my chest. My hand, pressed against the polished table, clenched so tightly that my knuckles turned ghostly white, each pulse a reminder of my helplessness.
Are you really going to leave without seeing me one last time? The question tore through me, silent yet deafening. Her smile, so impossibly bright and heartbreaking, flashed unbidden in my mind. Every memory of her departure—the finality in her gaze, the warmth I could no longer reach—was an acid burn on my soul.
Where did it all go wrong? I asked myself for the thousandth time. Was she right? Was everything doomed from the beginning, a fragile illusion that shattered the moment she walked away?
The official concluded, bowing slightly, unaware of the storm within me. "And so, with these preparations, we should be able to make it work."
I waved a hand, a gesture more of surrender than authority, dismissing him and the crushing weight of the day. "Fine. I'll leave it to you. I'm tired, so I want to get some rest."
He inclined his head in a low bow, murmuring, "I shall take my leave now." The heavy doors swung shut with a GLACK that seemed to echo through the empty chamber, leaving me alone with my despair. I collapsed back in my throne, releasing a ragged sigh that carried the weight of a thousand sleepless nights.
A tiny, sobbing handmaiden ran to her. "My Lady… do you really have to leave?" The girl's tears streaked down her cheeks, each droplet a physical manifestation of the grief her departure inflicted.
Lucina knelt, folding the girl into a gentle hug. "Titi… you can't leave your family behind just for me. Don't cry. I'll write to you often." Her voice was soft, deliberate, yet carried the finality that no comfort could undo.
One of her loyal retainers, his expression taut with sorrow, stepped forward. "My Lady… what am I going to do without you? I should just go with you…"
Lucina rose, taking a measured step, her gaze firm. "He's right. I should get going. The longer I stay here, the more regrets I'll have." The weight of responsibility in her words was tempered by her compassion, and it hit me with the unbearable reminder of what I had lost.
The retainer moved closer again. "If you're okay with it, I'd like to go with you."
A faint shake of her head, a soft smile, and a glance that balanced kindness with resolve. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm okay. You still have a lot of responsibilities here. Help Hakan and complete your research as well." The man nodded, his sorrow tempered by understanding, though his heart undoubtedly ached.
Hakan, the figure she had entrusted with much of the kingdom's welfare, finally arrived. "Where's the carriage?" He took her bag, the leather latch giving a crisp CLACK. "It's in front of the palace. It should be ready to leave now." He offered a small, reassuring smile. "The Cardinal's waiting for you."
Lucina returned the smile, taking a deep, final breath of the palace air. "Let's go." And with that, they moved toward the carriage, Titi clinging to her side, Hakan slightly ahead carrying her belongings. Each step away was a hammer against my chest, a reminder of the growing distance I could not bridge.
______
Hakan
The moment Lucina left, political predators moved without hesitation.
From a shadowed cell, the heavy door groaned open with a grinding CREAK. Giaret, pale but radiating calculated confidence, stepped into the light. Cloaked figures greeted her. "Congratulations on your release, Your Highness," they intoned, voices heavy with hidden agendas.
A conspiratorial meeting convened quickly.
"You will have heard about Lucina's departure," a vassal declared, taking deliberate steps closer. "His Majesty's vassals are making preparations for your marriage. We need to change our plans."
"How?" Giaret demanded, her tone sharp and commanding.
"The King is distracted by Lucina's absence," the vassal explained, voice low. "We'll take advantage of this… and start a rebellion during the wedding."
Giaret's lips curved into a calculating smirk. She brushed her hair back with a practiced flourish. "Hmm… then you'll marry the new King and become Queen, Your Highness." Her gaze narrowed with ruthless intent. "I don't care what you do… as long as I become Queen of this kingdom."
Preparations for the wedding proceeded with cold efficiency. Servants displayed fabrics and accessories. Giaret sat, directing the placement of every item with authority. "Perfect. Use those," she commanded, dismissing a servant with a wave.
A new gown was brought forward. "I've brought your wedding dress, Your Highness," a handmaiden said. The fabric slid onto a mannequin with a rustle. Giaret leaned in critically. "Hmm…" she muttered, brushing the material between her fingers. "This looks like the kind of dress that wench Lucina would wear."
A silver-braided advisor, cautious and concerned, interjected. "I think… it would be best to check with His Majesty first."
Giaret smirked, unfazed, already plotting. "What is it? Something wrong? Before Hakan dies, I'm going to make him pay for locking me up." She stepped forward, eyes gleaming with ambition.
The advisor, alarmed, hurried to the King. He found me lost in memory, brooding over the face of the woman I had loved and lost. "What's the big deal? Why are you rushing me like this?" I snapped, frustration coloring my words.
"I know you're not interested, but I think you need to see this for yourself. It's about your wedding, Your Majesty!"
"Wedding…?" My voice faltered, tasting like ash. I had almost forgotten the grim necessity of politics, distracted entirely by the memory of Lucina.
He pressed on, "We discussed it the other day, Your Majesty. That's why I want you to reconsider marrying Giaret."
Then she appeared. Giaret, confident and newly released, held up a simple, elegant white dress. "I'm glad you're here, Your Majesty. I've chosen my wedding dress. What do you think? Don't you think it's pretty?"
I looked at it, and for a brief, agonizing instant, I saw Lucina. My chest tightened. "I like it," I admitted, voice low, a frown knitting my brow. "That dress is…"
Giaret stepped closer, malice dripping from her words. "This looks like the kind of dress that wench Lucina would wear." My jaw clenched.
In a sudden surge of anger, I lunged, hand grasping at the fabric. "Why do you have this?" I demanded, the simple gown a lightning rod for every memory, every ache I carried.
"Pardon?" she replied, feigning surprise.
"There's only one person who can wear this!" My voice was a growl, the rage and grief intertwining, every beat a reminder of what had been taken from me. "How dare they give this to someone else?!"
The advisor rushed forward, placating. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty."
Giaret merely smirked coldly. "Does it matter who wears that dress, Your Majesty?" she taunted, her eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.
I realized then, heart pounding, that my grief over Lucina was a weapon in their hands. My enemies saw weakness, and Giaret was the linchpin of a plot that threatened everything I ruled.
The chamber trembled with the weight of my emotions, an invisible storm of heartbreak and fury that no walls could contain. My fingers clenched around the white garment, its simplicity a cruel reminder of everything I had lost. The dress—the perfect, unadorned gown that belonged only to Lucina—was now in Giaret's hands, a symbol of betrayal and injustice that I could not tolerate.
"WHY DO YOU HAVE THIS?" I roared, my voice low and dangerous, vibrating with the raw anguish that had festered these past days since Lucina's departure. I lunged forward, seizing at the fabric with trembling, furious hands.
Giaret blinked, momentarily startled. "Pardon?"
"THERE'S ONLY ONE PERSON WHO CAN WEAR THIS," I snapped, the words jagged with grief and anger. "HOW DARE THEY GIVE THIS TO SOMEONE ELSE…?!" My teeth ground together in a savage, unrelenting grit.
The silver-braided advisor scrambled to intervene. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty," he stammered, attempting to placate me.
Giaret merely let out a cold, dismissive "Heh," her dark eyes mocking my pain. Her defiance only inflamed the fire within me.
"DOES IT MATTER WHO WEARS THAT DRESS, YOUR MAJESTY?" she challenged, her tone calculated, calm. "It's a wedding dress. It should be worn at weddings. Soon you'll have an heir as a result of our marriage. That's what matters most."
Her cold, pragmatic reasoning hit me like ice, each word stabbing at my heart. But all I could see was the absence of the one who made my life worth living. "BUT NEITHER THE WEDDING NOR THE DRESS IS IMPORTANT," I spat, my voice rough with despair. "I'M SO SICK OF ALL THIS."
The chamber seemed to shrink around me as I continued, voice rising with the weight of my sorrow. "HEARING YOU SAY WORDS LIKE 'KING' AND 'HEIR' MAKES ME WANT TO THROW UP." My eyes blazed, voice trembling with the heat of heartbreak. "NONE OF THAT MEANS ANYTHING IF I CAN'T BE WITH THE PERSON I LOVE!"
"YOUR MAJESTY!" the advisor cried, horrified by the torrent of emotion spilling from me.
I pointed a trembling, commanding finger at the gown—the symbol of my political doom and my lost happiness. "BURN THESE CLOTHES." I punctuated the command with a sharp TAP of my foot. "THERE WON'T BE A WEDDING."
The advisor recoiled, taking a desperate step back. "PLEASE THINK OF YOUR PEOPLE AND YOUR KINGDOM, YOUR MAJESTY!" He took another, more urgent step forward. "YOU MUST PROCEED WITH THIS WEDDING FOR THE SAKE OF YOUR KINGDOM!"
I silenced him with a glare, eyes blazing with the fire of grief and defiance. "SILENCE!" My voice shook the chamber, a dragon's roar fueled by despair. "I HAVE NO REASON TO PROTECT MY POSITION AS KING NOW THAT LUCINA'S GONE."
If the kingdom demanded my duty at the expense of my heart, then let it crumble. I had sacrificed the one person who gave my life meaning. My vision blurred with the red heat of rage and sorrow. A single thought, raw and unfiltered, seized me: "I SHOULD JUST END EVERYTHING MYSELF INSTEAD."
I stood amidst the ruins of my own soul, the Dragon King who had chosen love over crown, now threatening to destroy both in a blaze of heart-wrenching defiance. The political stability of the Dragon Kingdom had shattered in the wake of my grief, and every wall of the chamber echoed with the storm of my despair.