Claimed By The Tyrant King

Alaric’s personal advisor had arrived at the king’s chambers after hearing disturbing rumours spreading across the palace.

Rumours that spoke of instability, erratic behaviour, and a king who had not been seen in proper council meetings for some time.

Concerned and unable to ignore it any longer, he had come in person to check on him, but the moment he stepped into the chamber, it was immediately clear that something was wrong.

Alaric stood in the middle of the room in a violent fit of rage, striking at nothing in particular as though he were fighting invisible enemies only he could see, while the servants and guards around him exchanged uneasy glances, completely confused and unsettled by the state of their king.

Without warning, he grabbed an expensive ornament from a nearby table and threw it violently to the ground, where it shattered instantly, the sound echoing through the chamber as though it marked something breaking inside him as well.

"Go away from me!" he shouted sharply at empty space, his voice filled with raw fury as he swung his arm again as though trying to drive something unseen away, something that only he could perceive.

"Your Majesty, please... you must calm yourself," the old advisor pleaded urgently, stepping forward despite the danger in his tone.

But Alaric did not listen.

Instead, he suddenly drew his sword, causing an immediate wave of shock to ripple through the entire chamber as the guards stiffened in panic.

The blade caught the dim light as he began slashing it through the air repeatedly, erratic and uncontrolled, while the servants backed away in fear, unsure whether to run or intervene.

"Please, Your Majesty!" one of the loyal guards shouted. The others stepped away cautiously while trying to reason with him without provoking further violence.

No one understood what had suddenly overtaken their king, only that this version of him was nothing like the man they once served. The calm authority that once defined him had been replaced with something unstable and dangerous.

"Get away from me!" Alaric roared again, slashing wildly as the others scrambled to avoid the blade while still trying to reach him.

Then, suddenly, everything changed.

Alaric stopped.

In a terrifying shift, he lifted the sword and pointed it directly at himself, and the advisor’s eyes widened in horror while the guards froze in disbelief. The entire room went still.

"I’ll prove it," Alaric said darkly, his voice shaking with something between rage and conviction. "I’ll prove that I cannot die... I’ll prove that you cannot kill me."

Before anyone could process his words, he drove the sword toward himself.

"Stop him!" the advisor shouted in fury and panic at the same time, turning sharply toward the guards.

The guards reacted instantly, rushing forward and tackling the king before the blade could pierce his body, forcing him back with desperate strength as Alaric struggled violently in their grip.

In the chaos, the sword was wrestled from his hand, though not before he managed to slash one of the guards across the arm, drawing blood. Despite the injury, they held him down firmly until his resistance slowly weakened, his breathing heavy and ragged.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

Alaric’s body went still.

The tension in the room remained thick as the guards carefully released him, uncertain if another outburst would follow, but instead of attacking again, the king collapsed to the floor, his strength seemingly drained. Slowly, he crawled toward the edge of the bed and sat beside it, head lowered as silence settled heavily over the chamber.

The advisor motioned quickly. "Bring calming tea at once," he ordered.

Servants hurried out immediately and returned moments later with a steaming cup, which the advisor carefully brought forward.

"Your Majesty, this will help you regain your composure," he said gently, holding it out.

But Alaric’s eyes snapped to it. "I don’t need your calming tea," he said coldly, before striking the cup away with a sharp motion, sending it crashing to the floor and spilling its contents across the stone.

"Everyone leave," he added firmly.

"Your Majesty..." the advisor began cautiously.

"Leave," Alaric repeated, louder this time. "All of you. Except the advisor."

The guards bowed quickly and exit the chamber one by one, leaving behind only silence, broken glass, and tension so heavy it felt suffocating.

The advisor remained standing, swallowing nervously as he took in the ruined room and the unstable man in front of him.

Alaric finally spoke again, his voice low and controlled, though still dangerous beneath the surface. "Why have you come?"

The advisor bowed his head slightly. "Your Majesty, it is important. The councilmen have begun to worry. There are growing rumours about your condition and your absence from meetings."

At that, Alaric’s expression darkened instantly. "The councilmen?" he repeated, his voice rising dangerously. "It is about time I dealt with them."

"That is not what I meant, Your Majesty," the advisor quickly corrected, fear creeping into his tone as he realized he had stepped too far.

A brief silence followed, heavy and tense.

Then the advisor continued carefully, "There is also talk... about the footman. The one who reportedly said something about the King."

At the mention of it, Alaric’s head snapped toward him, his glare sharp enough to silence even the air in the room.

"None of that happened," he said coldly. "He is nothing but a lying bastard."

His voice grew darker, more venomous with each word. "If I ever get my hands on him..."

He stopped, jaw clenched so tightly it looked like he might break his own teeth.

"I should have killed him," he said quietly, almost to himself now. "Along with the rest of them."

"Your Majesty, please..." the advisor said softly, bowing his head again in an attempt to de-escalate him.

But instead of exploding again, Alaric suddenly inhaled sharply, forcing his breathing to steady.

A strange, unsettling laugh escaped him, catching the advisor completely off guard.

Then Alaric spoke again, quieter this time, though far more chilling. "It seems the palace has become very comfortable in my absence," he said slowly. "Too comfortable."

His eyes were cold and sharp, no longer lost in panic but filled with something dangerous. "It is time I reminded them who holds power here."

The advisor stiffened as Alaric reached forward and grabbed him suddenly by the collar, pulling him closer with brutal force. The advisor’s heart hammered violently in his chest as he found himself face to face with the king.

"I will attend tomorrow’s meeting," Alaric said in a low, dangerous tone, "and it better be worth my presence."

He released him just as sharply as he had grabbed him, letting him stagger back slightly.

****

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the palace, Verity and Thalia arrived once again at Rosalind’s chamber. At the entrance, the footman stood blocking their path, visibly tense as he shook his head. "I’m afraid visits are becoming too frequent. I cannot allow this anymore."

He hesitated for a moment before adding lower, "Things are unstable in the palace right now."

He had already seen enough signs himself. The king had been unpredictable lately, refusing meetings, isolating himself, and now rumors were spreading too quickly. Even when he had gone to report at his scheduled shift, the guards had told him the king had ordered not to be disturbed.

That alone was enough to make him wary.

Still, Verity remained calm,"This will be the last time," she said firmly.

After a brief pause, and once payment had been settled, the footman reluctantly stepped aside and allowed them in.