Seated on one of the side chairs in the room, Simon had a hand pressed to his forehead. With a tensed look creasing his brows, he tried to collect his thoughts, weighed down by the chaos surrounding the kingdom. For the first few weeks, it hadn't seemed unmanageable. Only one enemy kingdom, Wasum had declared war, and they had assumed it would be short-lived. But now, their enemy had formed alliances with several neighboring states, multiplying their military strength and forming a formidable force. The future did not looked friendly for the kingdom.
With their own army already depleted, their soldiers weary, and their resources strained, the odds were stacked against them. The anxiety that pressed against Simon's chest was not just from the statistics or the state of their defenses.. it was a deeper dread, a foreboding feeling that something personal, something irreplaceable, was about to be taken from him.
Esme, seated nearby, noticed the misery that lined her husband's face. It had been days since he had last smiled, and even longer since he'd spoken without a heavy tone. Unable to watch him suffer in silence any longer, she reached out. One hand gently pulled his from his forehead while the other cupped his cheek.
"Honey," she whispered, voice full of warmth and concern, "what's wrong? Why do you look so tense?"
Simon sighed, his hand closing around hers as he replied, "It's the war, Esme. The kingdom, our home is crumbling. The chances of survival seem grim."
Esme leaned forward and embraced him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Her touch was grounding. She whispered into his ear, "Did you forget who you are? You're the man who led this kingdom to victory when all hope was lost. You brought honor to our name, time and again. We will find a way out of this, we always do."
Simon smiled faintly, touched by her unwavering faith in him, but the feeling in his chest did not relent. "I know, my love. But this time… this time I feel the cost will be far too great. As though something… or someone… very precious to us will be taken away."
Esme frowned. "Someone?" she asked.
Before Simon could answer, they were interrupted by a knock and the sharp voice of a guard outside.
"Your Royal Highness is entering."
Both Simon and Esme quickly stood and composed themselves. Their daughter, Rose, briefly flickered in Simon's thoughts. Was she safe? Was this visit connected to his earlier dread?
The King entered, and Simon couldn't help but be startled. King Rory looked nothing like the dignified ruler he usually was. His shoulders were slumped, his robe slightly disheveled, and there was a heavy guilt painted across his face.
Simon and Esme bowed in courtesy. Simon offered a polite smile, though concern laced his tone. "Welcome to our humble abode, Your Majesty. Is there anything I can help you with? Why did you trouble yourself to come here? A message would have sufficed. Did I do something wrong?"
King Rory's voice was unsteady as he responded, "Would you forgive me?"
The question struck Simon like an arrow. "Forgive you? I'm not sure I understand, Your Majesty."
Meanwhile, outside the chamber...
Rose approached, a woven basket of ripe mangoes swinging in her arm. The hem of her flowing cape grazed the stone floors behind her, giving her a regal appearance. With a bright smile, she walked toward her parents' chambers, her heart light.
"These mangoes look perfect!" she thought. "Mom and Dad will love these."
Just as she was about to knock, a guard stepped forward.
"Pardon me, Lady Rose," he said, bowing respectfully, "but the King has ordered not to be disturbed. If possible, could you please wait here?"
Rose blinked. "The King? In my parents' room? That's... odd."
She glanced at the door, then smiled charmingly. "Of course, I can wait. Thank you."
But curiosity quickly replaced her calm. What could the King be discussing that was so important her parents had to be personally summoned? Her ears perked at the first sound of the King's voice drifting through the wooden door.
"Would you forgive me?"
Her smile faltered. Forgive? Why would the King ask her father for forgiveness?
What is happening?
She leaned in slightly, her curiosity intensifying. Then came the next words, and the basket nearly slipped from her hand.
"I traded her. I traded your daughter, Rose, for the safety of the kingdom. I agreed to marry her off to the King of the Roosevolt Kingdom in exchange for military support."
Inside the room, silence followed.
Simon felt as though the breath had been knocked out of his lungs. Rage surged through his veins, but he kept his face neutral. For all the loyalty he'd shown the king, being repaid in this form of betrayal stung more than any battlefield wound.
Esme turned toward Rory, her eyes narrowing. "Did you just say... the King of Roosevolt? The Dark Lord?! How could you?!" she exclaimed, her voice rising. "Did you intend for our daughter to be sacrificed? To be sent to a kingdom ruled by a heartless monster?!"
She no longer cared for royal decorum. Her only daughter was being handed over like a political pawn.
"She's just nineteen! You've met her. She's full of dreams and light! How could you do this to her?!"
It was the matter of her daughter's life, how could he take the decision for her rose, when just a few days ago she asked rose to make her own decision. She remembered her Rose's words,
"I believe you will always choose the right for me."
Oh how wrong their choice was, How in the world she would face her daughter after this, Most importantly, How could she give away her fragile daughter to such a predator!
King Rory closed his eyes, guilt washing over him. "I had no choice. Our people's lives hang in the balance."
Outside, Rose stood frozen in place. The words that had just escaped her father's lips struck her like thunderclaps in a stormy sky.
"The DARK LORD? I'm to marry... the Dark Lord?!"
She repeated the words under her breath, the syllables trembling on her lips, as though saying them aloud would somehow shift their meaning. Her eyes widened, her breath caught, and for a fleeting moment, the world stilled around her.
But strangely, it wasn't fear that overtook her. It wasn't dread. It wasn't sorrow. No.
A strange, inexplicable excitement bloomed in her chest like an uninvited but not unwelcome guest.
"The Dark Lord. Lazarus. The one I've read so much about... the one who never shows his face. The one whose name children are taught to fear, and whose stories are whispered by candlelight..."
Her thoughts spiraled, her mind a storm of wonder and fascination.
She had secretly wondered about him for years. Even as a child, she'd begged the castle librarian to let her read the forbidden pages. She'd stolen glances at ancient paintings, drawings hidden behind folds of parchment. She'd dreamed, not of princes, but of him, the unknown, the feared, the silent monarch who ruled the darkest of lands.
Now, fate had handed her a chance.
A chance to see him. A chance to know more about him. A chance to meet the man behind the many masks..
THE NOTORIOUS DARK LORD.
Her long-buried, embarrassingly sweet little crush on him stirred to life and flared up like wildfire. It danced within her, wild and uncontained.
But before she could rejoice aloud, her daydreaming was shattered by her mother's shriek, a piercing cry that made even the soldiers at the door flinch.
"NO! NO WAY, I disagree with this! You may be our King, but Rose is my daughter! As her mother, I refuse to have her used as a sacrifice!"
Rose blinked rapidly, her dream-like daze dissolving into reality.
Her inner reaction: "-_-"
She resisted the urge to groan aloud, but her heart beat even faster now, not out of fear, but panic. Her mother's voice, so passionate and maternal, was ruining everything.
The King looked visibly unsettled. A rare thing.
"I understand your concern, Lady Esme," he began carefully, his voice slower now, more hesitant. "But I had no choice. Between the life of one individual and the peace of the entire kingdom, I had to consider the greater good. Please try to underst—"
"No! I don't want to understand," Esme snapped, her voice rising again, even sharper than before. "You know she's our only child! You know how much we both dote on her! How much YOU dote on her! Have you forgotten how often she used to sits on your lap and sings to you? How she makes your favorite tea when you're tired?"
Her voice trembled now, not with fury, but with aching love.
"Think about it, Your Royal Highness," she said, her tone softening but remaining firm. "Rose respects and loves you so deeply. She trusts you more than anyone in this world. How do you think she'll feel when she learns you've arranged this behind her back?"
The King faltered, visibly shaken by her words. His shoulders slumped slightly. His proud posture bent with the weight of the truth in Esme's plea. He lowered his eyes, as if in shame, or perhaps in guilt.
'NO. Don't say another word. DON'T cancel it! Please, by the stars above, DON'T. MOTHER, STOP. Your daughter wants this!!'
"Forgive me, but I cannot allow this," Simon said sternly. "Even if I have to give my last drop of blood, I will defend this kingdom. But I won't allow my daughter to be used as currency."
"I will marry him."
All heads whipped toward the voice.
There stood Rose, poised at the doorway, her expression unreadable. The basket of mangoes now sat forgotten on a nearby table.
Esme gasped. "Rose... how long have you been-"
"Long enough," Rose replied softly. She stepped forward and knelt before King Rory, taking his hands in hers.
"Your Majesty, you have always treated me like your own. I've felt your love, and I never doubted your care for me. If my marriage can help you and this kingdom, then I will gladly accept this fate."
Her voice trembled only slightly. Her tears were real, but they masked her secret hopes.
"Rose, no…" Esme murmured, tears spilling down her cheeks. "You don't have to do this. You don't know what you're agreeing to."
"I do, Mother. And you both promised to support whatever decision I make for my future. This is it."
Rory pulled her into his arms, moved by her maturity and sacrifice. "The kingdom will remember this, Rose. I will make sure you are honored as the queen you are."
Esme joined them, sobbing, wrapping her arms around her daughter tightly. "I'm sorry, my child. I failed to protect you."
Simon stepped forward, placing a hand on Rose's shoulder. He was torn, angry, protective, but deeply proud.
Rose didn't speak further, her mind already drifting to thoughts of the man she was soon to meet. Lazarus. The enigmatic Dark Lord. Her heartbeat quickened.
She didn't know what the future held, but she was willing to take the risk. Because deep inside, she believed...
Even monsters crave love.
And she had plenty to give.