The Throned Crown

The corridors of the palace felt colder than usual, shadows clinging to the stone walls like restless spirits. Aelric's footsteps echoed faintly as he returned to his chambers, his mind a turbulent storm of doubt and defiance.

Cassiel's words still echoed in his ears. "Next time, disobedience will cost you more than your pride."

Every interaction with the prince felt like a blade pressed against his throat, the unrelenting pressure testing the limits of his resolve. But beneath the tension, there was something else—something darker. Cassiel wasn't just testing his loyalty; he was toying with him, unraveling him piece by piece.

And Aelric hated how deeply the prince had already burrowed under his skin.

When he reached his chambers, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it, exhaling a slow breath. His hand instinctively went to the dagger at his side—a comforting weight in a world that felt increasingly unstable.

How long can I play this game?

He crossed the room and poured himself a drink, the amber liquid swirling in the glass. The burn of the alcohol was a welcome distraction as he stared out the window, his gaze fixed on the sprawling city below.

But even the distant hum of life beyond the palace walls couldn't drown out the sound of the knock at his door.

Aelric turned sharply, his instincts flaring. Few dared to approach his quarters unannounced, and fewer still would risk it after nightfall.

"Who is it?" he called, his voice steady.

There was no answer.

His hand went to his dagger as he moved toward the door, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring. He opened it cautiously, his eyes narrowing as he found no one in the corridor.

But something caught his attention—a folded piece of parchment lying on the floor.

Aelric picked it up, his heart pounding as he unfolded the note. The handwriting was unfamiliar, jagged and hurried, as if written in desperation.

They're watching you. Trust no one. The dungeons hold more than traitors—find the answers before it's too late.

Aelric's eyes scanned the note again, his grip tightening. The cryptic warning only deepened his unease. Someone knew who he was. Someone knew what he was after.

He folded the note and tucked it into his belt. Whoever had left it clearly didn't want to be seen, but the message was clear enough. If the dungeons held answers, he needed to find them.

Tonight.

Later That Night

The palace was quieter under the veil of darkness, the faint flicker of torches casting long shadows along the walls. Aelric moved like a ghost through the halls, his steps silent, his every sense attuned to his surroundings.

The dungeons were buried deep beneath the palace, their entrance guarded by a pair of soldiers. Aelric approached them with purpose, his expression cold and commanding.

"I'm here on the prince's orders," he said, his voice brooking no argument.

The guards exchanged a glance but stepped aside without question. No one dared defy Cassiel's will—or those who claimed to act in his name.

The air grew colder as Aelric descended into the dungeons, the faint scent of damp stone and decay clinging to the air. The faint flicker of torchlight illuminated rows of iron-barred cells, their occupants reduced to shadowy figures hunched in despair.

He moved quickly, scanning each cell until he found the one he was looking for. The prisoner from the forest sat slumped against the wall, his head bowed, his breathing shallow.

"Wake up," Aelric said, his voice low but firm.

The man stirred, his swollen eyes lifting to meet Aelric's. Recognition flickered across his face, followed quickly by fear.

"You…" the prisoner rasped. "Why are you here?"

"I need answers," Aelric said, crouching beside the bars. "Why were you in the clearing? What did they accuse you of?"

The prisoner shook his head, his voice trembling. "I told them the truth—I've done nothing. But it doesn't matter. Once the prince decides you're guilty, there's no escaping it."

"That's not what I asked," Aelric pressed, his tone sharpening. "What were you accused of?"

The man hesitated, his eyes darting around the dungeon as if expecting someone to appear.

"Treason," he whispered finally. "They said I was part of a plot to overthrow the crown. But I swear, I'm innocent."

Aelric's mind raced. A convenient accusation, but something about it felt off. If the man was truly innocent, why would Cassiel go to such lengths to make an example of him?

"You're lying," Aelric said, his voice deadly quiet. "What are you hiding?"

The prisoner's eyes filled with tears. "I don't know anything!"

Aelric was about to press further when the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor.

He stood quickly, his hand instinctively going to his weapon. The prisoner shrank back into the shadows, his fear palpable.

The footsteps grew louder, accompanied by the faint clink of armor. Aelric stepped away from the cell, his expression calm but his body tense.

When the figure emerged from the shadows, Aelric's heart sank.

Cassiel.

The prince's storm-gray eyes locked onto him, a faint smile playing at his lips.

"General Thorne," Cassiel said, his tone light but laced with danger. "What an… interesting place to find you."

Aelric straightened, his mind racing for an explanation. "Your Highness," he said, inclining his head. "I was inspecting the prisoners, as per your earlier concerns about security."

Cassiel's smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "How diligent of you. Though I don't recall giving you that order."

Aelric forced himself to remain calm. "I took the initiative. I assumed you'd approve."

Cassiel stepped closer, his gaze never leaving Aelric's. "Initiative can be a dangerous thing, General. Especially when it leads to places you shouldn't be."

The tension between them was suffocating, the air thick with unspoken threats.

"I serve the crown," Aelric said evenly, meeting Cassiel's gaze. "My loyalty is to you, Your Highness."

Cassiel studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to Aelric's surprise, the prince chuckled—a soft, low sound that sent a chill down his spine.

"Good," Cassiel said, his voice a murmur. "Because I'm watching you, Thorne. And I don't miss a thing."

With that, Cassiel turned and strode away, leaving Aelric standing in the flickering torchlight.

As the prince's footsteps faded, Aelric exhaled slowly, his mind churning.

The game had just become more dangerous.

And Cassiel was far more dangerous than Aelric had ever imagined.