Carlous'sPOV
The corridors of Aldreth Palace were silent, but I did not need noise to assert my presence. Every step I took carried authority, every glance demanded respect, and every decision left no room for doubt. I was Carlous, the Half-Blood Prince, heir to a kingdom both feared and revered, and the palace knew it.
Today's council had been a test, as always. Nobles whispered, ministers plotted, my brothers assessed. Darian, my eldest brother, had tried to undermine me with subtle jabs about loyalty and half-blood lineage, but I had handled him with calm precision. Every word, every movement, every pause was measured. I did not flinch. I did not stumble. Authority was not given- it was taken, and I wielded it like a blade.
The southern territories had grown restless, human governors petitioning for more autonomy, vampire enforcers demanding obedience. I had handled it. Orders dispatched. Reinforcements allocated. Strategy executed without hesitation. It was a kingdom that required balance, cunning, and foresight, and I possessed all three.
The palace, with its walls of stone and whispers, was my battlefield. Every minister, soldier, and noble was a piece in the game I had mastered. Patience and intellect were more lethal than fangs or brute strength. I had been taught by my father, King Varlord, that a crown prince must not only survive but dominate, shaping every outcome before the pieces even moved.
Even my brothers, full-blooded and ambitious, learned quickly not to challenge me openly. Darian's sharp words and subtle threats were mere amusements. I had anticipated them long before he ever spoke. Every council meeting was a chessboard, and I always three steps ahead. Strength was expected; intellect was feared, and that fear ensured obedience.
By nightfall, the halls emptied, leaving only shadows and the weight of the crown. I walked the palace corridors alone, yet solitude did not weaken me. It sharpened me. I inspected reports, reviewed strategies, and refined every plan for the kingdom's growth. The southern unrest, rival kingdoms, internal factions, all were parts of a whole I intended to control.
Even outside the council chambers, power spoke through my presence. Soldiers, nobles, and servants all recognized it. I did not raise my voice unnecessarily. I did not threaten with displays of brute force. The aura of command, the certainty of my intellect, and the confidence in every action spoke louder than any sword.
I had become unassailable. In public, in battle, in politics, I was the perfect crown prince: composed, precise, and unstoppable. No whisper of fear or hesitation could touch me. None dared challenge the heir to Eldrath openly.
And yet, as the night deepened and I ascended to the highest tower overlooking the city, a different weight pressed upon me, one that no authority could shield me from. The wind whispered through the battlements, carrying a memory I could not banish, a shadow I could not fight.
I remembered her. Debbie. The woman I had married, whose death had torn through me like wildfire. She had chosen death over life with me, over trust, over love. She had seen the strength and resolve in me, and yet, she had pulled away, leaving a wound deeper than any blade could make.
I hated her. Not entirely, but enough. For leaving me alone in a world that demanded strength. For teaching me the danger of attachment. For betraying the bond we had taken before the throne, before the eyes of both human and vampire kingdoms.
Because of her, I had learned never to trust fully again. Women in my life since then had been companions, yes- but only as mistresses, occupying my bed or sharing influence, never my heart. None would ever command me or the kingdom. None could claim what she once held and lost. I had erected walls so high that no love could scale them.
Even in the silence of the tower, even overlooking the city that bowed to my rule, the memory of Debbie burned in me. It was the only weakness I would ever permit myself, the single fissure in the armor I presented to the world. And though it was buried, though I kept it private, it would shape every decision, every alliance, every strategy yet to come.
The crown rested heavy, but it was mine. The kingdom was mine to command, to shape, to protect. I would honor the vision my father had entrusted to me. I would build a realm where humans and vampires could coexist, strong and prosperous. And if any dared to challenge me, to doubt me, to strike at my throne or my heart, they would learn the cost of underestimating Carlous, the Half-Blood Prince.
The corridors were quiet, too quiet. But I did not need noise. The palace, the city, the kingdom, each recognized my authority. Each feared what I had become. And yet, in the stillness, in the quiet, one truth remained: I had lost her, and that loss would haunt me forever. A grief wrapped in hatred, sharp and unyielding, hidden behind a mask of strength.
Even the strongest man has a weakness. Mine was named Debbie.