The Lycan's Queen : A tale of fate

As the King and Queen made their way toward their carriages, the atmosphere around them shifted. King Theron, completely oblivious to Elara's inner turmoil, spoke with the same prideful tone that filled the air whenever he addressed anyone. His words felt distant to her as she tried to block out the gruesome images in her mind—the blood spraying through the air, the lifeless eyes staring into nothingness. The arena's chaos was etched into her memory like an unrelenting nightmare.

"I am thinking of turning him into my soldier, get him into military training, but he won't be staying at the military like other soldiers. He will be on the castle grounds where I will watch over him. What do you think?" The King's voice broke through Elara's thoughts, but she was barely able to focus.

Before she could muster a response, the sound of approaching footsteps reached her ears. 'A rescue ? Thank the deities. '

A group of ministers had arrived, eager for their own audience with the King. The guards moved to shield Theron as the group gathered around him , alarming the ministers but one amongst them stood indifferently . His eyes glinted with something sinister, as if he was well aware of a secret only he understood. He smirked to himself, clearly enjoying some inside joke about the King, one that seemed to mock the very notion of Theron's capability to wear the sheep skin - it clearly hung over to the side , showing his true form underneath .

Sometimes it's not about how you well you hide your true form under the sheep's skin , but it's how you adjust to your new life and surroundings so you blend in and don't seem like an imposter .

The King may have ruled his kingdom with an iron fist, but this minister understood that Theron was not the figure he projected. He was exactly who he thought he was, but not in the way he believed.

Theron, not sensing the tension between them, waved his hand dismissively. "Move away, guards. Let the ministers pass." His gaze briefly met the mysterious minister's, who only responded with an unspoken challenge. As the ministers surrounded the King, their praise flowed in a wave of sycophantic flattery.

"What a wonderful tournament you have set , Your Majesty. And even though we lost our greatest warriors, I am sure our Kings will be delighted to hear what great ally you would become because of that beast you have over there." The words were careful, veiled compliments that subtly reduced the loss of warriors to mere casualties for a greater cause.

The other ministers continued their adulation, but Elara couldn't help but notice the way they referred to Darius as nothing more than a weapon—an asset. She tightened her grip on the carriage, her mind racing. 'Well , he's not human too , El ' , her subconscious whispered back to her, echoing the harsh reality she was starting to accept.

Theron basked in the praise, his chest swelling with pride as the ministers fawned over him. He stood tall, a gleam in his eye, but there was no humility to his words."Yes, yes," he replied smoothly, his voice dripping with arrogance. "I've done what no other ruler could have done. My kingdom is the envy of all, my strength unmatched. And those who challenge me will fall, as they always have. What matters is that I stand at the top, unrivaled, and it is my hand that guides the future of these lands. Others will be remembered for their short-lived fame. I will be remembered for my legacy."

As his words rang out, the mysterious minister, Sir Volkov, chuckled darkly. He stepped forward, dragging the heavy chains of their fallen warrior. His eyes locked on the King, cold and calculating, before he spoke with deliberate calm. "Fair play, Your Majesty," Sir Volkov's voice echoed through the tension in the air, "but I don't think my King will be as understanding as the others are. You did murder his greatest warrior under terms you never mentioned in that letter."

Theron, ever quick to defend himself, narrowed his eyes. "If only he had sent his greatest warrior to the arena, he should be the one winning the prize I've mentioned and have no worries over the minor changes I have made . And the greatest warrior being you, perhaps, Sir Volkov? Am I wrong?"

The minister's expression remained unchanged. He stepped forward, releasing the chains with a slight shake of his head. "Unfortunately, you are, Your Majesty," Volkov replied, his voice tinged with bitterness. "People rise and fall. I was once the greatest warrior in all of these kingdoms—admired, feared—but unlike you, I have fallen and risen at the same time, while you…" His eyes flickered toward the Queen, a dry, cold chuckle slipping from his lips. "You've only risen."

His gaze turned back to Theron, the edge of his words cutting through the silence. "I was once the greatest warrior. Now, I'm weak. I can't even throw a proper punch anymore. I fell. Like how others do, right?" Volkov paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked directly at Theron. "But I also rose to become the High Minister. A great achievement, yes, but hardly an accomplishment in your eyes, Your Majesty. Some of us aren't as lucky as you."

Laughter erupted from the surrounding ministers, but it was cold and hollow. Theron's hands clenched into fists at his sides, though he tried to mask his growing fury.

Theron spoke with forced calm, his voice dripping with barely contained rage. "I agree. The sun burns too hot , as you can see, the Queen hasn't healed completely. We will continue this conversation at lunch in the castle. May we all have a safe journey to Celestara Castle."

Before anyone could speak, the King and Queen quickly entered their carriage. The doors slammed shut, and as the horses began to pull away, the ministers turned to each other, murmuring among themselves. Theron sat stone-faced, his jaw tight as he gazed ahead, seemingly unfazed by Volkov's sharp words.

Elara, however, couldn't help but glance back at the ministers. Her mind raced as she tried to piece together what she had just witnessed—an exchange that felt far more complicated than any royal diplomacy. But it was the look from the mysterious Volkov, the unsettling weight of his words, that stayed with her as they made their way to the castle.