22 years later;
Lutetia City, Kingdom of Frankoria;
The sun blazed down on the Coliseum, its heat making every breath thick, and people were sweating hard as hell. However, no one seemed to be in that discomfort as the crowd filled the stands, the voices of thousands roaring and chanting, quite bloodthirsty and wild if one must say.
In the center of the arena, tied to a tall wooden post, was a young man—barefoot, battered, but wearing a grin far too large for someone about to die.
His hair was tangled, a trickle of blood running from his temple down to his jawline. His royal attire hung loose on his skinny frame.
The King of Frankoria, Dorion, stood above the arena on a raised marble dais, his red cloak billowing as he proudly addressed the crowd.
"This," the King shouted, pointing at the young man, "is Alector, prince of Athens! He dares to set foot in our kingdom, drunk and disgraceful, almost violating one of our women! What say you, people of Frankoria? What is the appropriate punishment we should hand down on him?"
"Death!" screamed the crowd.
"Hang him!" someone howled.
"Feed him to the beasts!" shrieked another.
Prince Alector only laughed. It wasn't a crazy laugh—no, it was worse. It was a confident, knowing laugh. He tilted his head back and smiled widely.
"You can try, King Dorian," he called up to the King. His voice rang clear over the jeering mob as if he doesn't give a shit to their opinions. "But my elder brother won't let you."
The King's brows furrowed, annoyed by his arrogance. "We shall see how your elder brother will pass through our armies and come all the way to the capital city to take you with him."
He raised a hand to signal the executioner.
The executioner raised the wooden staff he was holding, conjuring a blue fireball at its head.
"Death" "Death" "Death" "Death" "Death"
The chanting of death was as loud as thunder, thousands cheering for the captive's death.
Just as the fireball almost formed, the sunlight dimmed suddenly as a shadow swept across the arena. A massive ripple of whispers passed through the crowd, followed by a rising panic.
The King whipped his head up. His furrow deepened. "It is him…"
Archers pulled their bows taut. Mages began chanting, creating barriers of energy over the Coliseum. Knights raised shields that gleamed in the sun.
Then, a piercing screech split the air.
From above, riding a Pegasus as white as moonlight, came a middle-aged man clad in simple armor, his long white and gold cloak whipping behind him. In his hands, a gleaming bow, already drawn.
"Lycandros," the King muttered under his breath, his face tightening with rage as he imagined the possible deaths of his army that were stationed outside the city. If they didn't stop him, it is likely that they were killed.
"Kill him." He growled.
Dozens of energy arrows shoot into the sky. The mages were ready with their energy blasts for the second round.
Looking at the incoming arrows, Lycandros neither conjured an arrow nor did he stop his flight. The Pegasus continued to glide down to the Coliseum. But then, strings of energy escaped his fingertips and the bow, naturally forming a wall of barrier before him, blocking every arrow fired at him. The barrier was so strong that none would even crack it.
"Dammit…" King Dorian clenched his fists. He shouted. "Attack. Attack…" The mages came into action. They shoot energy blasts all at once, enough to blow up a mountain, but their combined strength couldn't destroy the barrier conjured by Lycandros.
Once their attacks were blocked, Lycandros made his move. He conjured an arrow, gleaming in divine energy. He calmly shot it down at the barrier.
The moment it struck the outer barrier of Colisseum, conjured by the combined effort of a hundred mages, the arrow made a hole in it without causing any explosion of any sort, but when it struck the ground at the heart of the arena, a wave of silver mist burst outward.
"Sh*t. It's the Divine weapon of Slumber." King Dorian muttered, his eyes widening in realization. He hurriedly pushed out his energy to form a layer of shield over his body and blocked his smell.
The archers fell first, dropping like puppets whose strings had been cut. Then the mages, their spells flickering and dying as their eyes rolled back. The knights stumbled, swords clattering from their hands, shields forgotten. They didn't even get an opportunity to make a move and collapsed to the ground.
Along with thousands of people, they too fell into a deep slumber, one they won't get up for atleast an hour or two.
Within a few seconds, only a few figures remained standing—the King himself, and a handful of warriors, their bodies enveloped with similar protective layers of energy. The protective barrier over the Coliseum dissipated into specks of light
With a nod, Lycandros then tightened the reins of the Pegasus, controlling it to dive again.
Lycandros then swooped low, grabbing the unconscious Alector with one strong arm, cutting the ropes with a swipe of his dagger.
The King stumbled after them to the edge of the platform, his hand clenched around the hilt of his sword. "Lycandros!" he roared, his voice shaking the heavens.
High above, Lycandros turned just enough to flash the King a cold look.
"Whether he did right or wrong, you aren't going to be the one to judge, King Dorian," Lycandros said, his voice echoing all over the place. "Athens will be the one. As the fault is on our side, I haven't taken any life. Consider this my generosity, and forget this matter. If you want to settle it on the battlefield, Athens will welcome your troops."
As he was gone, leaving nothing but a flash of silver against the endless blue sky, King Dorian shouted in fury, once again. "Ly…can…dros…"
—
A couple of hours later;
The Pegasus touched down in the palace courtyard. Alector slid off Lycandros's side, nearly falling flat on his face. He still wore that cocky smile, rubbing his wrists where the ropes had burned.
"Thanks, Elder Brother," Alector said, dusting himself off. "I knew that you would be there for me."
Lycandros didn't smile back. His face looked as hard as stone, indicating his clear displeasure.
The Queen arrived just as the soldiers closed the courtyard gates. Her hair was braided in a long silver plait down her back, her gown flowing like a river behind her. She rushed toward Alector, her face flushed with worry. "My son—" she gasped, reaching out for him.
Before she could touch him, Lycandros stepped between them.
"We're not finished here, Queen Callidora," Lycandros said, his voice turning as sharp as a blade. The Queen was taken aback by his tone.
Before she could ask, Lycandros turned to the gathered court, the advisors, the soldiers, and the servants who had come running at the commotion.
"By the authority of Supreme Commander," Lycandros declared, "I call for an appropriate punishment for Prince Alector didn't receive at Frankoria. The Prince has disgraced Athens and the royal family with his actions. He will have to face the consequences.
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the courtyard. Some agreed with Lycandros, while some were against it. Some had no idea what happened either. So, they were confused.
"No!" The Queen stated firmly, walking past Lycandros and grabbing her son's arm. "No further punishment! Prince Alector is soon to be the King of Athens. You can't punish him for doing such a little thing. Moreover, whatever happened, it happened in Frankoria. None of our citizens are affected. As the Queen of the state, I will not give my permission to punish the future King of Athens."
Lycandros jerked free at her statement. His voice rose against her. "Regardless of whether the incident happened in Frankoria or Athena, the Prince attempted to violate a woman, Queen Callidora. You are a mother for sure, but you yourself are a woman and a Queen, at that. How can you ignore it in such a way?"
As the Queen stumped, feeling the gazes from the ministers and other officials gathered around, Lycandros continued, his tone turning firmer as every word passed. "I gave my word to my father on his deathbed—that I would ensure only an able man, someone competent, filled with righteousness, sits on Athens' throne!"
He turned then, looking at Alector—not as a brother, not even as a man, but as a disappointment.
"A king is not someone born with a crown. A king is someone people choose to follow. Someone they would want to be like. Someone they would trust to lead even in the dark. I will protect Alector no matter what. I will love my brother regardless of his character. But I will not let my father's name be smeared with sin, Queen Callidora. As long as he stays like this, I will not let him sit on the throne."
Without another word, Lycandros turned and strode out in determination, the sound of his boots echoing against the marble.
The Queen stared at his back and cast a glance at the ministers, who were giving mixed reactions with their gazes on this matter. She couldn't help but inwardly sigh.
Night had fallen when the Queen found him alone, standing at the cliffs beyond the palace, staring out at the sea. The stars were twinkling above them in silence.
"Lycandros," She called him out.
Lycandros sighed and turned around to face her. "Mother."
She came closer, wrapping her arms around herself against the breeze. "You know that Alector was raised without a father's love. He was only 3 when His Majesty passed away. And I—" she gave a shaky laugh—"I tried to fill that space by giving him everything he wanted. He is my only son, Lycandros. The only heir to the throne."
Lycandros said nothing, his arms crossed behind his back, and his gaze shifted to the horizon.
"I made him emotionally weak to others' opinions," The Queen admitted, letting out a sigh. She continued. "I made him careless. But mistakes can be corrected."
At that, Lycandros turned his head again. "He is a grown man, Mother. He can't be changed."
"No, he can," Callidora said firmly. "There is one way that can change any man at whatever phase he was in, Lycandros."
"What is it?" Lycandros asked with a frown on his face.
"Marriage," the Queen said simply. "Get him married. When he has a wife and children of his own, that responsibility can carve him into a man better than any sword. Right now, he has nothing to lose. The kingdom is his, and as long as you live, he will not be hurt. But when he had a family of his own, he would atleast think of gaining respect from them. He would want to become a proud husband, if not atleast, a proud father."
Lycandros stared at her for a long moment, the sea wind tugging at his cloak. "If that is Mother's wish, I will follow it."