Hamstung Imperial Palace
A maid holding a jar filled with wine walked through the vast corridors of the castle. She got to a chamber and was about to knock slightly when she heard the sound of sexual moans coming from the room.
It was normal for the prince to satisfy his sexual cravings, so the maid didn't see anything wrong with the fact that he was committing fornication. She turned around to leave when something caught her eye.
The double door leading to the chamber was slightly opened, and when the maid peered through, what she saw left her dumbstruck; the jar of fine oil almost faltered from her grip.
Prince Vagor, he was entangled on his bed with another man!
The maid's eyes widened as she took two steps backwards quietly, afraid to make any noise.
She quickly turned around and scurried back to the kitchen. When the maid got to the kitchen, she put the jug down and then glided to where her colleague was.
This revelation was too much for her to keep to herself; her mouth itched. She whispered in the ear of her colleague, another maid with brown hair.
The brown-haired maid gasped, slowing her pace on the vegetables she was washing.
Swiftly turning to her left-hand side, the brown-haired maid whispered in the ears of her friend, who was arranging a cup of tea on a tray.
It didn't take long; the whole castle began to whisper words of the prince… Things took a drastic turn when King Orain heard about it.
The royal garden lay drenched in the morning calmness, its marble fountains murmuring and roses swaying under a gentle breeze.
Birds chirped lazily in the orange light of the rising sun, and the fragrance of lavender clung to the air.
It was a place of serenity—a retreat where courtiers would lower their voices in respect for its stillness.
Orain reclined on a wooden bench chair, befitting his status, his purple robe of deep crimson trailing over the carved seat. His crown was absent, replaced by a circlet of gold that caught the light more gently.
Across from him stood his advisor, gray-bearded and sharp-eyed, clutching a scroll pressed against his chest.
Suddenly, Orain slams his fist down on the table. The sound cracked through the air, startling a flock of doves from a nearby hedge.
The silver cup at his side toppled, spilling red wine.
"I want that golden statue built; there are enough slaves in Hamstung to see to it that it is done."
Orain said, rising to his feet instinctively.
"The slaves cry in pain, begging to be broken from the chains of bondage." The advisor tried to explain, but all his words were in vain.
"I do not care! Double their wages, and see to it that a golden statue of my head is hanging in the middle of the city before the end of the season." He roars, the veins in his neck straining as his anger shatters the garden's stillness.
Just then a maid walks in; she bows curtly before whispering words in Orain's ears. The countenance of his face fell, his eyes darkening.
"Send for Vagor; I will be in my chamber." He said before giving the royal advisor a signal to leave.
Vagor was the heir to the throne of Hamstung, Jia's only brother. He had earned the respect of his father, Orain, and had become popular across the continent as one of the richest kings there would be once he inherited the throne and the wealth his father was leaving behind.
Vagor strolled into Orain's chamber, his dark hair slipping backwards. He was tall and masculine, with a broad chest that stood out and a calm countenance always masked on his face.
Orain was seated on the edge of his bed drinking the cup of wine in his hands while thinking deep. When he heard footsteps approaching, he raised his gaze; the storm in his eyes seemed to have subsided.
"Vagor, drink wine with me." He said in a casual tone, rising to his feet. Usually he would signal a maid to pour the wine, but this time it was different; he poured the wine himself and then handed it over to Vagor.
"Do you know that the king of Galvestone wants to fix an alliance with you and his daughter?" Orain started off taking his seat on an armchair in the chamber illuminated with the rays of the sun.
"I wasn't aware of that…until now." Vagor sounded rather displeased.
"I accepted the alliance on your behalf; you will be wedded to his daughter on the fortnight." Orain was testing his son's patience.
"We both agreed I won't get married until I have inherited the throne." Vagor answered rather calmly.
"Yes, we did." Orain shrugged lightly, but then his face darkened as he asked…
"That was before you tried to ruinmy reputation and everything I have built with my sweat?! Orain shot up from his chair.
Vagor creased his brows, the cup of wine he was about to bring to his mouth stopping halfway.
"Speak in plain words, Father." Vagor said rather calmly, and this angered Orain even more.
"I will ask you one question, and you must answer me truthfully." Orain calmly said, strolling across his chamber to pour himself more wine.
"Do you have an unnatural affection towards men?"
Orain's question came as a shock to Vagor; he was simply mortified. Too speechless to utter a word.
Vagor's face didn't fall; he only put the cup of wine he was drinking down and then pinched the bridge of his nose.
"These are only rumors…"
"Don't you dare lie to my face, Vagor. I promise you, it will be fatal. Whispers have reached me, and I want to confirm it for myself.
Is it true that your heart is drawn not to maidens, as is fitting for one who shall bear the crown, but to the company of your own sex?"
Orain questions in a deep and dreaded tone.
Vagor swallowed the remaining words stuck in his throat. Obviously denying the allegations wouldn't be the solution. It was finally time to come clean.
"It is true….. Father. I have no deceit in me on this matter. My heart finds no warmth in women, only in the company of certain men." Vagor said after a moment of silence, not a single remorse in his voice.
Orain groaned bitterly.
"You are no better than the cunts on the streets! But for the sake of my bloodline and your succession to the throne, I will overlook this stupidity of yours."
Vagor shot a glare at his father.
"There is no cause for alarm, Father. I am not cursed; it is only normal for me to…"
Orian didn't let him finish.
"Normal? He scoffed.
"You disgust me! He added, turning away from Vagor, he sipped from the cup of wine in his hands, trying to calm his surging anger.
"The whole castle already knows about it; soon I will be mocked, and the streets of Hamstung will whisper words that my son, the heir to the throne, has affection towards men!
Orain's vein popped at the surface of his skin, his teeth gritting.
"I won't let that happen…" Vagor wanted to reassure his father that he had everything under control, but Orain wouldn't hear it.
"It already has, you bloody fool! Orain trashed the cup of wine at the wall opposite him in fury, then turned to look at his son.
"But you will prove them wrong by getting married to the princess of Galvestone and making children with her that will hold their scorching tongues from gossip," Orain said with finality, then pointing his index finger at his son…
"Never should you be seen entangled with a man again. Never! Orain spat out
"And what if I refuse? Vagor dared to ask, and Orain's eyes reddened.
"What if I refuse to accept your conditions, and I choose to live the life I want?" Vagor's face grew cold and void of emotions.
Orain grinned, his left hand caressing the golden ring on his right index finger.
"I have always had a problem with women being the rulers of kingdoms and overseeing political matters, but this time I might just make an exception; Omelia has always had the heart of a dynamite queen… What don't you think?"
Orain's deadly tongue lashed out, and Vagor exploded with anger; he simply rose to his feet, turned around, and walked out of the chamber in fury.
.....
The chamber was dim, the flicker of the oil lamp casting long shadows across the stone walls.
Omelia sat upright on a carved wooden chair, her quill gliding gracefully across the scroll, where she was writing a letter.
Each stroke of her hand was measured and elegant, a reflection of her refined handwriting. The steady scratch of ink against the scroll was the only sound in the stillness.
But then—a faint noise came from the open window nearby, a soft shuffle, almost followed by the creak of a loose hinge swayed by the night breeze.
Omelia froze.
The ink pen in her hand halted mid-stroke, the ink pooling into a dark blot at the edge of the scroll. Slowly, her eyes lifted from the scroll, narrowing toward the window. The lamp's flame wavered as though it too sensed an intruder.
Her gaze lingered on the window for a while; there was no one there, so she focused her gaze back at what she was doing.
Maybe she was just hearing things.
The breeze pushed the windows wider, and with it came a shadow that did not belong.
A figure slipped silently through the window, boots barely whispering against the stone floor. In his hand glinted the unmistakable edge of a dagger, catching the weak flame of the lamp.
Omelia immediately felt the presence of someone in her chamber, but as she turned around to look, with swiftness, the intruder was now behind her.
The cold steel of the dagger pressed against her throat, sharp enough that a single careless movement could draw blood. His breath was steady, his grip iron-like on the dagger.
Omelia gasped, her fingers clawing at his arm. The ink pen fell from her grasp, rolling across the table, leaving a streak of ink behind.
"Who…who are you?" Omelia said with a hoarse voice she tried to look back, but the intruder held her in place.
"Stay silent," the intruder hissed.
"Rise to your feet slowly, and come with me." He said, and Omelia pondered on his words for a while.
She stood defiant.
For a breathless moment, they were locked together, her pulse hammering against the cold blade.
She pretended as though she was about to obey his command, then slowly rose to her feet.
Then, with a sudden jerk, she wrenched herself free, shoving him backward. The dagger scraped her neck just enough to leave a shallow sting, but no mortal wound.
The intruder cursed under his breath, stumbling into the shadows of the chamber.
Omelia stood trembling but alive, chest heaving, her back pressed against the writing desk. The lamp flickered violently as the table shook. Her eyes darted to the door, where she wished a guard might appear. But none came.
She immediately raced to the door of her chamber to escape, but the intruder caught up with her, gripped both of her hands, and pinned them behind her back.
She began to struggle.
"Enough," he muttered. "Struggle again, and I'll make sure your next breath is your last."
"Let me go; there is a lot of gold in the Treasury. You will have enough of it if you let me go and surrender to the king. Tell us who sent you to me, and you will be wealthy with the blink of an eye."
Omelia tried to use the last strategy most wealthy people would use when in a situation like hers.
"Quiet," he whispered near her ear, his tone chillingly deliberate.
"Do as I say, and you might yet live to see dawn."
Omelia's knees weakened, but she forced herself to stand tall, the stubborn fire in her eyes betraying her fear. He gave her a rough tug toward the window, the night wind curling around them both.
It was at that moment Joya walked in through the door with a tray containing some fruits. Omelia snapped her head in her direction, and gladness filled her heart.
"Joya!
When Joya saw what was happening, she took some steps backwards, fear scripted on her face.
Once again Omelia tried to break free, and she succeeded, but this time the intruder didn't go after her.
"I warned you." He said before taking out his dagger, he swung it in her direction tactically, and it pierced her neck.
Omelia almost stumbled. Her eyes widened in shock as she slowly turned around to gaze at the man.
Joya screamed and quickly scurried out of the chamber; since she was close to the door, she could still escape.
"You bastard." Omelia cursed, turning to gaze at the intruder, she was in pain, and blood began to trickle down her neck.
The man threw another dagger, and this time it pierced Omelia's stomach. Blood sprouted from Omelia's lips as she crouched down, the pain biting through her skin.
She started gasping for air, but it was of no use; she had lost a lot of blood and could feel her life slowly fading away.
The man quickly took to his heels, going through the same window he had come in, and at that same moment, Omelia collapsed on the floor dead.