The grand palace court buzzed with an assembly of ministers and subjects, their faces etched with tension and panic. The air crackled with hushed discussions about the previous night's invasion. King Judrith, a storm cloud of rage, sat on his throne. How dare someone attempt to take his life—to threaten him within his own walls? The bitter reality of the assassin's escape gnawed at him.
"I am so sorry, my king, but the man was incredibly skilled, with the best swordsmanship I've ever witnessed," Luke explained, kneeling before the furious monarch, his head bowed low.
"He killed ten of my men, and you let him go, you rascal!" the king roared, slamming his hand against the table with a resounding thud.
Luke cowered, silently praying for his life. He knew the king never offered a second chance when angered.
"What were you doing? Almost fifty guards couldn't catch a single man! What a shame!" Judrith bellowed.
"Forgive me, my king, however—"
The sudden loud commotion and smashing sound outside distracted them, halting their discussion.
"What's going on outside?" The king's voice demanded, booming with authority.
"Check it out this instant, Luke," he ordered his head guard, who bowed in response.
His gaze roamed around the court. "And where is Jade? He——" he trailed off as the door pushed open violently.
It revealed a very wounded Luke, bleeding profusely and struggling to stay on his feet. He clutched his bleeding stomach, an arrow protruding from it.
His breath hard and heavy, "Your majesty," he groaned, stumbling.
All eyes were on him, wondering what was happening.
"We are under attack!" he shrieked, his knee giving in. He fell with a thud.
The king stared, lost and curious.
"What do you mean?" he demanded, his tone stern and hard.
"The—The palace is under an attack," he managed to say, his words coming out breathless.
Gasps filled the air.
"Attack? Who the hell will walk to their death?" The king shot to his feet, his eyes blazing with disbelief.
It was then the screams and sword-clashing sounds made sense. The cold feeling of reality coursed through him.
"Your majesty, we are really under attack!" one of his ministers screamed, fear streaking his voice.
"We have to do something, my king," Riverdale, the Minister for War, said, his brave front concealing his own fear.
"Jade! Where is Jade?" the king yelled, his breath heavy, his gaze fixed on the writhing Luke, demanding an answer.
"He… he…"
"And why is the king seeking my presence?" a young man stepped into the court, his hand gripping the princess's neck, a trail of blood on her skin where his fingers dipped. In his other hand, a bloody sword, which no doubt had killed many.
His gaze locked with his daughter's, and in their depths, he saw nothing but cold dread.
Rage shot through him. "And who are you?"
"Jade," he answered, his gaze cold and savage. A mocking smirk tugged his lips.
The air grew tense and extremely quiet.
But the man before the king was nothing like Jade; he had no huge knife scar etched on his face, nor the long thick beard and mustache and extremely long hair.
Before him was a more youthful man, his neatly coiffed hair shone under the hall's light. A striking but unmistakable resemblance to Jade, but a more older version of someone he knew too well.
"You… you are alive," he stumbled on his words, the intensity of his harsh reality almost choking him.
Prince Damon's smirk widened, his grip tightened on the princess's neck, and a painful whimper escaped her mouth.
"I've waited for this day, Judrith," he said, shoving the princess roughly, almost making her fall face flat.
"Ahhjj!" she shrieked in pain.
The king stood rooted in disbelief, his mouth agape.
"Finally, Judrith," he snorted, his gaze savage. "You dare betray me!"
Damon snorted, a disgusted look on his face. His gaze vengeful.
"I came to take what is mine. And trust me, Judrith, no one here can stop me."
Judrith yelled, "You bastard! How dare you! You dare walk into my territory and try to humiliate me!" His eyes bloodshot with rage.
"You think you deserve to live? After what you've done? Slaughtering innocent people and taking their home? Their land?" Damon fired, his nose flared with rage and loathing.
"You deserve to die, Judrith. I am here to make you pay, for everything you did to me and my people. I promise you, Judrith, you won't go scot-free."
Judrith burst into a depraved laugh, his subjects staring at him as if he had lost his mind. Who laughs at a situation like this?
His laughter ceased. "You wish," he said, strutting down from his throne, an amused expression on his face.
"I will give you credit; you really had me fooled." He wore a sinister smile. "You masqueraded, you wormed your way into my trust. All this time, a groveling dog, yet seething with vengeance. Impressive," he snorted, the word laced with venom.
Damon fumed, his jaw clenched, Judrith's words hitting home.
"You should have stayed hidden, Prince Damon," he blurted.
Surprised gasps resounded, all gazes now fixated on the vengeful young man—the man once the king's most trusted subject.
"You made a big mistake walking into my territory. I failed to kill you before, but never again will I fail," he declared.
"Guards!" he hollered, his gaze locked with the man before him.
Troops of soldiers streamed into the court, the sound of their unsheathing swords resonated through the air.
He smirked. "Capture the traitor!" His index finger shot out, sharply pointing at Damon.
No one moved.
He growled, "What are you doing? Capture him now!"
Damon, to his surprise, offered a smirk of his own, an evil glint dancing in his eyes. He swung his hand through the air, and the soldiers moved immediately.
They marched past him, grabbed the king, and forced him to his knees.
Murmurs among the ministers reverberated.
"Father!" Princess Sabrina wailed, shooting to her feet.
A guard seized her, forcing her roughly to her knee.
"You son of a snake!" the monarch spat, anger and humiliation pricking his skin, flushing through his blood.
"Now I get to be in power here, Judrith," Damon mocked.
"You think you can kill me and walk out of here alive? No fucking way!" he spat venomously.
Damon grimaced. "You really don't know what I am capable of, do you?" He gripped the monarch's throat, digging his fingers to inflict an injury.
"You bastard!" the king spluttered, his breath hitching with venom bordered with rage.
"I could kill you right now, cut your limbs, and have your eyes and tongue plucked out and walk out of this fucking place untouched." He gripped his throat tighter, making him gasp for breath.
"You know nothing of what these two years of watching you wander around while I waited for this day has molded me into. I can kill you in the most gruesome way ever, like a fucking dog," he spat with resentment.
The intensity of his cold gaze sent a cold thrill down to his very core.
He shivered with fear.
Prince Damon shoved him roughly, his gaze chillingly cold.
"But I won't do that. Killing you is like doing you a favor. There are a lot of ways to make you suffer. And that I planned on doing," his cold gaze found the princess.
She shot him a hateful glare, her demeanor screaming defiance.
He spun on his heel, taking measured strides towards the princess.
"Don't you dare!" Judrith yelled, struggling to break free of the guards' hold. But he was nowhere stronger than they were.
"Let me go!" she struggled, but his hold was stronger.
"You know I always wondered why you didn't kill me that night? Why you didn't kill me even after you found out I escaped and was on the run?" he prompted, grabbing the princess forcefully, getting her to stay rooted.
She winced in pain, her gaze blazing with rage and unshed tears. He was hurting her.
"You made me wander for a while, then you had your hunting dogs catch me. You made me feel like I had escaped you while you had a good laugh behind; you were playing the hide-and-seek game. You threw me into the Dark Dungeon and tortured me for two years. Made me fed like a dog. I was ten. A little boy who knew nothing. You made me suffer, but didn't kill me even while I begged for death. You kept me alive. Then it finally occurred to me that you had no plan on killing me; you wanted to destroy me," he paused, his jaw clenched in fury.
The rage emanating from his eyes made every single soul in the hall shiver. Without ordering, the ministers went down on their knees, heads bowed—a silent plea for their lives.
"So I am bringing back that same game you started, Judrith. The hide-and-seek game."