The Queen's Ultimatum

Heir & Pawn
The clang of steel clashing against steel echoed in the royal training yard as swords collided under the bright morning sun. Prince Alexander moved with graceful brutality. Sweat clung to his shirtless torso, glistening under the harsh sun as he sparred with a seasoned soldier nearly twice his age.

Every swing, every pivot, every calculated move displayed both his strength and grace. The soldier was skilled, but Alex’s fluid agility and precision left him struggling to keep up. The older man grunted, trying to land a blow, but Alex sidestepped smoothly, twisted, and swept the man’s legs from beneath him in one elegant, merciless motion.

The soldier hit the ground with a dull thud, breath knocked from his lungs.

“Yield,” Alex commanded, his sword at the soldier’s throat.

The soldier gasped and bowed his head in defeat, lowering his sword.

Alex smirked and extended a hand to help him up. “You almost had me that time, Garrick.”

“Almost,” the man grumbled with a grimace, accepting the help. “You’ve really improved a lot, My Prince. I'm impressed.”

Applause and muffled giggles echoed from a group of maids loitering under the canopy of ivy along the stone corridor that overlooked the yard, all pretending to be there by accident. They had baskets of linen in their arms, but none of them were attending to their duties. Not really. Their eyes were locked on the prince: shirtless, sweat-slicked, panting lightly, muscles flexing with every movement.

Their eyes devoured Alex.

“By the heavens, look at his back,” one whispered, biting her knuckle.

“Look at his chest,” one whispered, fanning herself with her hand.

“He’s carved from marble, I swear,” another whispered, eyes wide.

“Have you seen his arms? I swear they’re bigger than my thigh,” said another, clutching her apron.

“Did you see those abs? Gods above…”

“He’s like something from the old myths. Like a war god turned flesh.”

“I’d volunteer to be his sparring partner any day,” a third giggled.

“Forget that. I’d volunteer to be used by him any day, I don't care.”

That sent them all into a fit of barely stifled laughter, which quickly died when Alex turned his head slightly, clearly having heard at least something. They ducked behind the stone archway, cheeks aflame, hearts hammering.

As if on cue, a palace guard entered the yard and approached with brisk urgency. “Your Highness,” he said, bowing slightly, “Her Majesty the Queen requests your presence.”

Alex turned toward him, chest still heaving slightly from exertion. “Of course she does.”

He exhaled and rolled his shoulders then turned toward the corridor. “Could one of you bring me a towel?”

A frenzy of motion followed. Maids scrambled like startled birds, dropping linens in their haste. One of them, a timid brunette, hesitantly stepped forward and handed him a soft linen towel with trembling hands. Alex took it with a polite smile.

“Appreciated.” He said with a nod of thanks.

As he wiped the sweat from his neck, then dragged the towel slowly across his chest and abs, he noticed her staring. Her gaze wandered far too low before she caught herself—and when she looked up, their eyes locked.

He smirked.

Her entire face went red.

“I—my apologies, Your Highness!” she squeaked. She gasped and turned on her heel, bolting with the speed of a deer fleeing a predator.

Alex chuckled under his breath, shaking his head in amusement. He finished drying off, he picked up his discarded shirt and pulled it on, fingers expertly fastening the buttons as he walked.

—

The Queen’s chambers were bathed in opulence, sunlight spilling through silk-curtained windows, bouncing off ornate gold trim. Queen Lysandra sat on a plush chaise lounge, her legs extended as two maids knelt to help her try on a selection of jeweled shoes.

When the door opened, she looked up, her violet eyes brightening.

“Mother,” Alex greeted, stepping in and shutting the door behind him. “You called?”

“Come, darling,” Lysandra purred, gesturing to the empty seat beside her. “Sit.”

“Leave us.” Lysandra commanded, dismissing her handmaidens with a flick of her fingers.

Without hesitation, they bowed and departed in silent unison, the doors clicking shut behind them.

Once the room was empty, she crossed one elegant leg over the other and turned to him.

Alex approached, cautious but composed. He sat, watching as she poured two goblets of wine, handing one to him.

“Drinking in the middle of the day?” he teased, sipping. “You must be in a good mood.”

“I’m in a decisive mood,” Lysandra replied, swirling her glass. “There is much to be done.”

Alex leaned back, resting his arm along the back of the chaise. He raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“I summoned you,” she began, “because a powerful union is being forged. One that will secure Edralis’s position as the supreme kingdom of the realm. It is between Edralis and a kingdom far beyond the land of the Eight.”

Alex’s brow furrowed with interest. “Which kingdom?”

“Astraellos.” Lysandra said, smiling as though already savoring the victory.

Alex blinked. “Astraellos? The empire across the Sea of Ash?” he repeated, eyes widening. “I’ve read about them. Their military is unrivaled—massive infantry, arcane cavalry, elite siege tacticians. And their economy… gods, their gold and diamond exports alone—”

Lysandra’s eyes gleamed with pride. “So you are well informed.”

“Of course I am,” he said. “I’ve been fascinated by their tactical structures since I was a boy. They haven’t lost a war in over two centuries.”

“Indeed,” Lysandra said, eyes gleaming. “Which is why a union with them would make Edralis unstoppable.”

“Did you initiate this?” he asked with a lifted brow, and a half-skeptical smile.

“I did,” she said proudly. “Bellaflor grows bold. They’ve opened their gates to those creatures and made their kingdom a safe haven for them. They have hundreds upon hundreds of witches backing them.”

Alex said nothing.

“No army under my command—not even with the combined strength of the Seven—could withstand them now,” she continued. “But Astraellos? Their forces could wipe Bellaflor from the map. With them by our side, we would crush our enemies before they even drew their swords.”

“And what do they want in return?” Alex asked, narrowing his eyes.

Lysandra’s smile remained fixed. “You.”

He blinked. “Me?”

“You will court and wed their eldest daughter. The Princess of Astraellos.”

Alex nearly choked on his wine. He lowered the goblet and stood abruptly. “WHAT?!”

Lysandra sighed. “It’s a match made of strategy and necessity. You will be King one day. Having the Princess of Astraellos at your side will make your reign unshakeable.”

“You made this arrangement without asking me?” Alex snapped.

“It is for the good of the kingdom, Alexander,” Lysandra said smoothly.

“That’s not the point! You didn’t even consult me. You just—”

“You are my son!” she replied calmly. “Your duty is to obey, not question.”

“I’m not a pawn you can trade off for alliances.”

“No, you are a prince. And that means sacrifices.”

“I won’t accept it,” he said firmly.

Lysandra’s calm shattered like glass.

“You will, Alexander.” Her voice was cold. “You speak of choice while standing on the bones of those who died to keep you safe.”

Lysandra’s expression darkened. “Must I remind you of your sister?” she asked, voice soft but dangerous. “You weren’t even born yet.” She sighed.

“A child I carried in my womb. A child I birthed in pain. A child who was ripped from me, whose heart was carved out by witches for their rituals!”

Alex clenched his jaw.

She continued. “Or your father. Do you truly believe his death was a coincidence? He died under mysterious circumstances after that wretched creature, the God Witch, appeared and threatened us! Threatened the entire kingdom!”

“It couldn’t have been her.” Alex said quietly, looking away. “I don’t believe Aurora was responsible for father's death.”

“You know nothing of what she’s capable of!” Lysandra hissed. “We’re so close to our goal of eradicating witchfolk. Just play your part, Alex!”

“But we're witches too, Mother.”

“We have magic in our blood,” he said. “All this time, you’ve pretended otherwise. But we’re no better than the hunters we send to hunt these witches down!”

That made Lysandra pause.

Her gaze slowly narrowed, her posture stiffened. “You used to obey me,” she said, voice shaking with cold anger. “You used to carry out my will without question. Now you defy me more with each passing day.”

“I see things differently now,” Alex replied.

“No! You’re blinded,” she whispered. “Blinded by something.”

Alex shook his head. “I think I see clearly, Mother.”

She leaned in, her voice like velvet soaked in poison. “You will accept this union, Alexander. You will wed the princess whether you want to or not.”

“And if I don’t?”

Lysandra was stunned with disbelief.

He shook his head. “No. I won’t be a pawn in some foreign game.”

Lysandra’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “Tell me the truth darling…” she said, each word measured and sharp. “Is there someone else?”