The Lycan's Queen : A tale of fate

Leroy, the royal announcer's cheery voice, boomed through the arena, captivating the vast audience as he began introducing the ministers and lords , including their valiant knights chosen to battle against the King's beast. While the crowd roared with laughter at his quick-witted quips and harmless jests, Queen Elara found herself slipping into a moment of nostalgia.

Something about his voice tugged at her memories, as if she had once known the man behind the cheerful facade. It wasn't just his tone—it was the subtle, cutting humor beneath his words. To the untrained ear, his jokes were harmless, but those who truly listened would recognize the sharp edge in his remarks.

"You're to seeious ," "You're too faint-hearted " , "You're too moody ," "It wouldn't kill you to laugh a little ." Those words echoed faintly in her mind, almost like a whisper from her past. Shaking herself free from the hazy thoughts, she caught Leroy's voice teasing the crowd again: "Now, come on, people of Lunareth! Loosen up a little! Laugh! Smiling won't age you faster—besides, we've got enough wrinkles in this crowd to make a map of Lunareth anyway!"

The audience erupted in laughter, the tension in the arena easing as Leroy clutched his chest theatrically, pretending to have been struck by his own joke from behind the walls .

"And now, dear people, let us meet our valiant knights!" Leroy's tone shifted, brimming with anticipation."First, we have Sir Brandell, the Shield of Everbright, protector of the northern borderlands and the man who singlehandedly turned the tide at the Battle of Aragon Pass!

"Second, Lady Sylvaine, the Moonblade, whose unmatched skill with a blade has kept Athineol's skies clear of griffon raiders for decades!

"Third, Sir Devron, the Hammer of Steelhelm, who crushed the Black Horde's greatest champion with a single blow!

"Fourth, Sir Idris, the Stormcaller, whose ferocity in battle is said to rival even nature's wrath!

"Fifth, Lady Thera, the Crimson Arrow, who has never missed a shot, whether in the dark forests of Daralyn or the chaos of battle!

"Sixth, Sir Halvar, the Ironwall, whose unyielding defense held the line at Greystone Keep!

"Seventh, Sir Eryk, the Sunfire Spear, who broke through enemy lines at the Siege of Serath!

"Eighth, Sir Gregory ,the Stormblade, from the proud kingdom of Eryndale, I present to you Sir Gregor, !"

"And last, Sir Oran, the Dread Wolf, whose cunning and ferocity earned him the respect of allies and enemies alike!"

The crowd cheered wildly as the knights stepped forward, each adorned in gleaming armor, their weapons catching the sunlight. Leroy paused, letting the excitement build before he continued. "And now—da da da daaaan!" Leroy added a drumroll, his voice theatrical, "The King's Beast!"

The crowd gasped as the gates at the far end of the arena groaned open. Heavy chains clattered, and from behind the thick iron bars emerged a man—or rather, something that seemed to straddle the line between man and beast. Leroy's voice faltered for a moment as he took in the sight. "Ladies and gentlemen, I... uh... well, that's a man, isn't it? A holy-shit of a man at that! Is this really the beast? Or is it Beast the Beauty or Beauty the Beast?"

Laughter rippled through the audience as Leroy leaned into his commentary. "Tell me, is he here to fight, or slay hearts?"

But as the man stepped into the light, revealing his bloodied, battered form, the humor died from the crowd. The deep gashes across his body were fresh and still bleeding, yet his expression was stoic, his presence unnervingly powerful.

The King's smug expression grew as he observed the man from his seat. The figure's sheer resilience, coupled with the fresh wounds that seemed to fuel his fury rather than weaken him, was a sight to behold.

"And he's wounded—oh deities! Will he even survive against the manically skilled knights?" Leroy exclaimed, his shock evident.

Queen Elara's attention snapped back to the arena as she caught Leroy's words. That phrase—oh deities—resonated within her, stirring another fleeting memory. She had heard those words before, spoken with a tone and familiarity that only one person in her past would dare use.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden outburst from King Theron. "Wait! What is he doing?"

All eyes shifted to the beastly man. He had smeared something onto his wounds, the blood gleaming unnaturally under the sun.

"What is he applying to his skin? It's healing him!" Theron barked, his tone demanding answers. His attention turned sharply toward the warden of the dungeons, a grizzled man named Master Draegon, who oversaw all prisoners.

King Theron barked with fury, "When I ask questions, I expect answers, Draegon. And they better come directly from you. WHAT IS THAT HE'S APPLYING TO HIS SKIN?!" His gaze turned cold, narrowing on the warden of the dungeons, Master Draegon, who stood trembling under the King's scrutiny. The grizzled man, who had seen countless prisoners come and go and has never encountered such, was completely caught off guard by the sudden outburst.

"I... I don't know, Your Majesty," Draegon stammered, his voice shaky as he struggled to make sense of the situation. "I think... that's blood, but I don't know what kind or why it's healing him."

"You don't know what?!" Theron's voice thundered through the arena, the fury evident in every word. "You are the one who guards the dungeons, Draegon! Your eyes and ears should be on everything that happens down there. Dare I find out you had a hand in this?!" His tone was a deadly warning.

Before Draegon could formulate an apology or explain himself further, the King's guards swiftly seized him, dragging him away harshly as the man was rendered speechless, unable to defend himself. The spectators, unsure of the unfolding drama, turned their focus back to the arena, where the fight was about to begin.

And as if nothing had happened, Theron casually returned to his seat, his red face slowly settling into a smug composure. The countdown continued, and soon the bell rang, signaling the start of the fight.

Elara's eyes lingered on the King for a moment longer, her thoughts racing. She had learned to be cautious around him; his temper was unpredictable, and she couldn't afford to provoke him anymore. She forced her gaze away from the King's furious expression and looked to the crowd, trying to steady her nerves. She couldn't help but think that the King's behavior was becoming increasingly erratic, and she'd need to be careful with her words and actions moving forward.

The sound of the countdown continued to echo in her mind as the first blows were struck in the arena, the tension mounting in the air.