Oberon Challenge

Oberon Challenge
❤️ Oberon Challenge ❤️

Tharros noticed the way Nyxoria was looking at him, so he put a little space between them on the bed. She wouldn’t understand the sick thoughts running through his mind, how much he truly enjoyed seeing her tears.

"How are you feeling now?" he asked, trying to shift the conversation.

"Nyxoria tilted her head slightly. "Do you like my tears that much?" she questioned.

Before Tharros could respond, a knock at the door interrupted him.

For once, he was grateful for Vyrelen’s timing. There was no way Nyxoria would understand if he tried to explain.

"Come in, Vyrelen," he called.

Vyrelen stepped inside but remained near the door after closing it.

"Have you seen your wife off?" Tharros asked, rising to his feet. He walked past Vyrelen, motioning for him to follow him outside. Together, they made their way toward the closest balcony.

As soon as they stepped outside, Vyrelen grinned. "Yes, my Emperor."

"Good. Why are you here? Did the guards disrespect her?" Tharros asked.

"No," Vyrelen shook his head, then pulled out a sealed parchment from his shirt and handed it to Tharros. "King Oberon's messengers came by and dropped this off. It is for you, my Emperor."

Tharros took the letter, examining the seal. "Do you think Oberon is making his first move already?" he asked as he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.

He read it once, then burst into laughter before handing it over to Vyrelen.

Vyrelen eagerly read through the letter. The moment he processed its contents, he threw his head back and laughed just as hard as Tharros.

"For real? He actually has the nerve to challenge you to a fight for the hand of your bride? Does he have a death wish?" Vyrelen scoffed between laughs.

"He does," Tharros muttered, his laughter fading into something dark and cold. "He wants to take my bride? Over my dead body." His voice came out in a low growl.

"Should I go and kill him for you, my Emperor? I will do a very clean job no one would know what killed him. I will make it look like suicide." Vyrelen asked, though he already knew what Tharros would say.

"No, don’t do any of that." Tharros replied, shaking his head. "Remember, there was someone else with him and Vyr that night. We need to find out who it is. Whoever they are, they’re the one pushing Oberon into this challenge. And I love it."

"So, what should I do, my Emperor?" Vyrelen asked, waiting for Tharros' next step.

"Go and tell Oberon that I accept his challenge. We will fight on the field of Ashland like he said. The Kings and Queens will be present, and anyone who wishes to witness the fight is welcome to come."

Vyrelen nodded his head. "I will deliver the message," he said. "Will you be fighting him yourself, my Emperor?"

Tharros smirked. "Didn’t you read the part where he said he’s bringing someone to fight in his place? If I defeat his fighter, I get to fight him. If his fighter loses, he won’t trouble me again about my bride. So in other words, he is telling me I will have to choose a fighter from my own side and if the fighter I choose fails, he will fight me. He really has the audacity."

"And who will you be choosing, my Emperor?"

"You, of course," Tharros said as if the answer was obvious. "If you fail, that means I am weak."

"I won’t fail you, my Emperor," Vyrelen promised.

"Good, I have gotten so used to you. You are half of me so I am not bothered with whatever tricks Oberon has up his sleeves."

Vyrelen bowed slightly. "I will go and inform him."

"You do know how I send my message when someone dares to touch what’s mine, right?"

"Yes, my Emperor." Vyrelen nodded, and in the next second, shadows swirled around him, and he was gone.

Tharros turned and walked back into his chamber. He didn’t want to tell Nyxoria about the challenge, not yet. She was already dealing with her uncle’s betrayal, probably after their visit tomorrow.

But when he entered, he found her fast asleep. Without a word, he removed his boots, climbed into bed, and gently pulled her to him, resting her head on his chest. As the steady rhythm of his heartbeat filled the silence, he closed his eyes and let sleep take him too.

★★★★

The Fae Kingdom: Oberon's Palace:

King Oberon sat in his throne room, waiting for his messengers to return. When the heavy doors creaked open, he knew it was them.

He rose from his throne as they approached.

"We delivered your message," one of the messengers said, bowing respectfully. The other one bowed also.

"Good. You may leave." He grinned as they turned and exited. Now, all he had to do was wait for Tharros’s response.

Since he had nothing else to do, he left the throne room and headed to his chamber. But the moment he stepped inside and shut the door, shadows twisted through the air, and before he could react, Vyrelen appeared.

A strong hand gripped his throat and slammed him hard against the closed door that it shook. Oberon immediately summoned his fire, but it flickered uselessly against Vyrelen’s skin. The Nightweaver didn’t even flinch, his flesh remained untouched, as if the fire feared him.

"You dare challenge me for what is mine?" Vyrelen’s voice was unnervingly calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that came before a storm powerful enough to swallow entire kingdoms. "I could slit your throat right now, spill your blood like wasted wine. But that would be mercy."

His eyes darkened, the air around them growing heavier, thick with something suffocating.

"I want everyone to watch, to see what happens to those foolish enough to touch what belongs to me. So start counting your days, Oberon. Each sunrise brings you closer to your last. Make peace with your ancestors, choose your successor, and savor every breath, because soon, I will be taking the last one from you myself."

Then, just as suddenly as he had attacked, Vyrelen released him, stepping back and folding his hands behind him.

Oberon gasped for air, his throat burning. "Did you just try to kill me?" he rasped.

Vyrelen smirked. "That was the message my Emperor asked me to deliver, my King. Which I just did, if it were my Emperor that came instead, you would be dead instead of breathing so be grateful."

"You caught me off guard! If I had been expecting you, I would have blocked your attack." Oberon’s voice returned to normal, though anger simmered beneath his words.

Vyrelen chuckled. "Well, I am only taking lessons from you, my King."