Cursed To Conquer

The cold air of the underground prison seeped into Basil's bones as he descended the narrow staircase. The flickering torches lining the stone walls cast long shadows, making the corridor feel both endless and suffocating.

Each step weighed heavier than the last. He had avoided this place for days, unable to face the consequences of his past actions. But now, with Illyria's innocent painting fresh in his mind, he knew he had to confront the truth.

At the bottom of the stairs, a massive iron door loomed. Two guards flanked it, their postures stiffening when they saw him approach.

"My lord," one of them stammered. "Do you wish to—"

"Open it," Basil interrupted, his voice cold and commanding.

The guards exchanged uneasy glances but obeyed. The heavy door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit chamber. Inside, sitting gracefully on a simple wooden chair, was the woman he had wronged more deeply than anyone else.

His mother.

She was breathtaking, even in the dim light. Her long silver hair flowed like molten metal, and her golden eyes glowed faintly in the darkness. Small but elegant horns curved from her temples, and faint scales shimmered along her collarbone.

For a moment, Basil hesitated. He had prepared himself for anger, resentment, even hatred. But none of those emotions greeted him.

Instead, her gaze was calm, almost serene, as she looked up at him.

"Basil," she said, her voice smooth and regal, carrying the weight of centuries. "You've come."

His throat tightened. He stepped into the room, the door closing heavily behind him. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, he sank to one knee, bowing his head.

"I've come to release you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And to ask for your forgiveness."

She tilted her head, studying him intently. "Forgiveness?"

"I've wronged you," he said, his hands clenched into fists. "I imprisoned you based on lies, tarnished your honor, and left you to rot here. I… I wouldn't blame you if you hated me."

Her lips curved into a small, enigmatic smile. "And you think I hate you?"

He looked up, confusion and guilt warring in his eyes. "How could you not? After everything I've done—"

She rose gracefully from her chair, the chains on her wrists clinking softly as she approached him. Despite her confinement, she exuded an air of unshakable power and majesty, her very presence commanding respect.

"Basil," she said, placing a hand under his chin and lifting his gaze to meet hers. "Do you know why I didn't protest when you imprisoned me?"

He shook his head, his expression bewildered.

"When I married your father," she began, her tone thoughtful, "I was a queen in my own right, ruling the lands of the dragons. I had power, respect, and a legacy that spanned generations. But I left all that behind to join a human family, to bear human children. Do you know why?"

He didn't dare respond, afraid of the answer.

"At first, it was out of duty and alliance," she admitted. "I was… skeptical of what our children would become. Would they inherit the strength of dragons? Or would they be little more than humans with diluted blood?"

She paused, her golden eyes gleaming. "But then you were born."

Basil's breath hitched.

"You were strong, ambitious, and fierce," she continued. "When you threw me into this prison, I didn't see betrayal. I saw a dragon. A true dragon, willing to do whatever it took to seize power. In that moment, I was not disappointed—I was proud."

"Proud?" he echoed, stunned.

She smiled, her expression softening. "Yes. You displayed the ruthlessness that defines our kind. You acted as a dragon should. And while your methods may have been misguided, your intent was clear: you sought strength and control."

Basil's shoulders slumped, his emotions overwhelming him. "But I was wrong. I was cruel. I don't deserve your pride."

Her hand moved to rest on his shoulder. "And yet, here you are, seeking forgiveness. That is something only a true leader can do—acknowledge their mistakes and strive to make amends."

He looked away, his voice shaking. "I thought… I thought you would never forgive me."

She chuckled softly, the sound warm and melodic. "Basil, you are my son. My firstborn. My dragon. There is nothing to forgive."

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Basil felt the heavy weight on his chest begin to lift.

The chains that had bound her wrists and ankles fell away as Basil personally unlocked them. When the guards returned to escort them out, they looked at him with wide-eyed disbelief.

"Tell the servants to prepare the east wing," Basil ordered. "My mother will reside there from now on."

The guards hesitated, then bowed. "As you command, my lord."

As they ascended the staircase together, Basil felt a strange sense of peace. He still had a long way to go, but for the first time, he felt like he had taken a step in the right direction.

Beside him, his mother walked with her head held high, her presence as commanding as ever.

"You've changed, Basil," she remarked as they reached the main hall.

"I have," he admitted.

She smiled. "Good. Perhaps this time, you'll make me proud for the right reasons."

He nodded, determination burning in his eyes. "I will."