Chapter 21 The Beast King.
Damien
The throne room is too quiet after the council leaves. Their voices still echo faintly, a chorus of false praise and cautious approval. Majesty, the wedding will restore faith in the crown. Majesty, the people will see your humanity at last. My humanity. The word sits like ash on my tongue. I sit alone at the head of the hall, the obsidian throne cold beneath my hands, and stare out through the tall arched windows. Beyond the glass, the kingdom gleams under a pale light; the banners, the marble streets - it's all an illusion of peace. From this height, it all looks perfect and untouchable. It’s easier to forget that perfection always hides rot beneath. I shift, the movement small, but my claws that are already half-formed, scrape faintly against the arm of the throne. The sound rings through the silence like nails down a chalkboard. I flex my fingers until the talons fade back to nails, then drag a hand down my face and exhale slowly. They talk of me like I’m a legend, or a threat they can manage with titles and ceremonies. But I know what they see when they look at me. The beast behind my eyes. The one they whisper about when they think I’m not listening.
The monster in the mountain. The dragon who almost burnt down his own kingdom because he couldn't control his beast. I close my eyes, and the memory rises like smoke. The gardens used to be my mother’s sanctuary, with endless rows of roses and night-blooming lilies, her laughter soft among the petals. I was twelve the day I lost control. I was angry and scared. Just a boy with too much heat in his blood and no one brave enough to touch him. The fire came all at once, wild and hungry and by the time it faded, the garden was nothing but blackened soil and melted stone. My mother never set foot outside again. The scent of roses has made me sick ever since. I ruined whatever peace she had made in this place by my father's side.
A sound cuts through the quiet — the measured tread of boots.
“Marius,” I say without turning.
“Your Majesty.” My advisor’s voice is calm but always cautious. He’s one of the few who still enter this room willingly. “Preparations for the wedding continue as planned. The seamstresses have completed the bride’s gown, and the cathedral is nearly finished.”
“Good,” I murmur. “Perhaps the people will sleep easier knowing their king can still play at pageantry.”
Marius hesitates. “You know how important this is, sire. The alliance will—”
“Save the kingdom,” I finish for him, leaning forward, elbows on my knees. “Yes. You’ve said.”
He bows his head slightly, eyes downcast. He’s careful never to meet my gaze for too long. The last person who did fainted just from the fear of me..
“Anything else?” I ask.
“There are rumours, Majesty.”
“There are always rumours.”
He shifts, uncomfortable. “That you’ve found someone who can tame you.” He says quickly.
A bitter laugh escapes me. “Tame me? I can barely keep myself on a leash most days.”
The beast inside stirs at that, a low, wordless growl curling through my chest. You don’t have to.
Not now, I think back.
He huffs, unimpressed, like a restless beast pacing behind bars. He hates it when I let the council talk to me like this. Hates when I bow to duty and play the civilised king. He wants to burn, to hunt, to rule the way dragons were meant to. But dragons don’t build kingdoms; they destroy them. Just as I am currently doing with my own. The whole reason I agreed to take a bride is because maybe, hopefully, having a Queen might help soften the people towards me and help unite the kingdom once more. Maybe she could soften me...If someone could just show me how it feels to be loved without being feared. I know I am a fool to think this way, though. No one can love the beast. No one can love me.
When Marius finally leaves, I rise and cross to the balcony. The mountains stretch beyond the palace in sharp, dark and endless waves on the horizon. The wind up here smells like rain and stone and faint, lingering smoke. It smells like my beast. The sun dips lower, staining the clouds red. For a while, I just stand there, watching the shadows lengthen over the courtyard below. The same courtyard where the wedding will be held. The same ground that once bloomed with my mother’s roses before I turned them to ash. Before everyone knew to fear me. To run the other way or submit to my will quickly. I tilt my head to the sky, breathing deeply as a storm begins to roll across the peaks, and I watch as the clouds form slowly, heavy and... wrong. The air shifts to something colder than it should be for this time of year, and when the first flakes start to fall, I blink in disbelief. Snow. It's...snowing? It hasn’t snowed here in twenty years.
The beast in me stills. Something’s coming.
I reach out my hand and let the flurries collect in my palm. They steam when they collide with my skin, pooling and then falling to the ground in a puddle, but it's a nice contrast to the heat I usually carry in my body.
“I know,” I murmur aloud, though there’s no one to hear me. “I can feel it too.”
The snow drifts lazily past the balcony rail, melting when it hits the warm stone, but it leaves behind a strange calm within me. Maybe it's a sign, or perhaps it's a warning. The door opens again behind me. A young messenger bows low, breathless from running.
“Your Majesty,” he pants. “A rider has just returned. The bride has been found. She’ll be arriving within the week.”
I don’t turn. I keep my eyes on the falling snow that captivates me.
“Of course she will,” I say softly.
The beast laughs darkly inside my chest, a sound like thunder rolling through smoke. Let’s hope she knows what she’s walking into.