Claimed By The Tyrant King

When both brothers finally left the throne hall after the judgment had been passed, the king chose to follow Drystan’s advice since it had been the wiser decision.

"So what do you intend to ask father for later?" Alaric asked while turning toward his younger brother as they walked through the corridor together.

They slowed to a stop and Drystan narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "I do not know..." His voice trailed off before he suddenly brightened. "Do you think he’ll permit us to attend the festival? I heard it is supposed to be entertaining."

Alaric stared at him in disbelief. "That’s what you want?" he asked.

Drystan nodded with a smile resting on his lips. "There is nothing better than spending time with my older brother, is there?"

Alaric looked at him for a long moment before dragging a hand down his face while Drystan frowned in confusion.

"For someone who thinks better than I do, you’re thinking like an idiot right now," Alaric muttered.

Drystan’s brows furrowed slightly while Alaric continued, "You could ask father for a mighty sword forged only for you or even request land to govern yourself."

Drystan raised a brow while listening to him. It was not that those thoughts had never crossed his mind, but the brothers rarely spent time together outside their duties and he genuinely wanted to attend the festival with him. "So are you coming or not?" he finally asked.

Alaric sighed heavily. "Yeah, whatever. Festival," he mocked before continuing down the corridor beside him.

Later when they were preparing to go to the festival, Alaric was on his way to meet the king when he suddenly heard voices coming from inside the chamber ahead. He stopped instinctively upon hearing his father speaking with one of the royal advisors.

"Your Majesty," the advisor said carefully while King Harold stood before the large window with a troubled look upon his face. "This matter needs to be considered thoroughly. We all witnessed the princes during the judgment earlier and while His Highness Drystan arrived at a wise solution, the Crown Prince responded immediately with cruelty."

Alaric’s expression darkened outside the chamber.

"Though the Crown Prince is gifted in combat, a king cannot rely upon strength alone," the advisor continued. "A ruler must possess wisdom, especially in matters that require careful thought."

King Harold remained silent.

"If His Highness Drystan were to inherit the throne, the majority of the council and ministers would gladly support him in leading Eryndor into a better future," the advisor added. "The prince takes after you greatly in that regard."

Outside the chamber, anger slowly burned through Alaric’s veins.

"And Eryndor has enjoyed peace for so long," Harold finally sighed. "I would not want that peace destroyed."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the advisor agreed quickly. "Which is exactly why the realm must avoid falling into the hands of a tyrant. The Crown Prince has shown countless times that he lacks compassion and possesses dangerous tendencies toward violence. Violence is not the path toward a peaceful Eryndor."

Alaric’s fists clenched tightly.

"This has never been done before," Harold said after a pause. "The younger brother considered before the elder... I would not wish to create division between them."

"But in this case, Your Majesty, it would greatly benefit the realm to consider Prince Drystan instead," the advisor insisted. "The kingdom would suffer terribly beneath tyranny if the crown prince..."

Before another word could be spoken, the chamber doors burst open violently as Alaric shoved them apart with his foot.

Both men turned sharply toward him.

King Harold’s eyes flared with anger instantly. "How impudent."

Meanwhile the advisor immediately bowed his head in both fear and acknowledgment.

"What is the meaning of this?" Alaric demanded sharply.

Then his cold gaze landed upon the advisor. "And who exactly is this tyrant you speak of?"

The older man visibly shook beneath his stare.

"Father, you cannot seriously be listening to this nonsense," Alaric continued angrily. "What do you mean by considering Drystan for the throne instead of me? Have you even thought about what that would mean?"

"Alaric!" Harold’s voice thundered across the chamber and silence immediately followed.

The king took a slow breath before turning toward the advisor. "Leave us."

The elderly man wasted no time bowing once more before quickly leaving the chamber. The heavy doors shut behind him, leaving father and son alone.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Alaric stepped forward. "Do you care to explain exactly what the two of you are plotting?" he asked coldly.

Harold sighed heavily, exhaustion settling into his features. "We are only considering what is best for the realm."

Alaric scoffed as though those words were absurd.

"Stealing my birthright is what’s best for the realm?" he asked sharply, leaving the king momentarily speechless.

Alaric trailed off in rage "...He is not even that skilled in combat, so what kind of king would he become if he cannot properly defend himself? How will he defend all of Eryndor? How will he rule these people the way a king is meant to?"

"Combat alone does not make a good king," Harold replied calmly despite the alarm spreading across Alaric’s face. "Drystan is still learning and he will improve."

"So what if he improves!?" Alaric thundered angrily.

"You do not raise your voice at your king!" Harold barked suddenly.

"What exactly have you been learning all these years? Is this how a crown prince behaves? Eavesdropping on private conversations, lacking discipline and doing whatever pleases him. Do you believe that is what is expected of a king?"

Alaric immediately lowered his gaze before him.

Silence stretched between them while Harold struggled to contain his anger. Then after a moment, Alaric spoke again, though this time his voice carried something far more painful beneath it.

"I know you love him more than you love me, but this... this is unacceptable."

Harold looked at him and his expression softened slightly. "I do not love Drystan more than..."

But Alaric cut him off immediately.

"I have seen the way you look at him," he said bitterly. "The way you always listen to him as though he is your only son." His jaw tightened. "Is it because he resembles mother so much?"

"Alaric..." Harold began.

But Alaric stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "You have forgotten that she died because of him. He took your wife and my mother away."

"You know nothing about that," Harold’s voice sharpened far more than he intended.

Alaric’s gaze darkened instantly. "Oh, I know enough. Mother died immediately after giving birth to him." His voice lowered bitterly. "Do you not think he brings ruin wherever he goes?"

"He will bring ruin to Eryndor if you place the crown on his head!"

"Enough," Harold cut him off sharply and Alaric swallowed the rest of his words.

"I will not allow you speak of your brother or your mother that way," the king continued coldly. "Your mother did not die because of Drystan. She died because her time came and she would be disgusted hearing such words from you." His eyes hardened. "Do not ever speak of your brother that way again."

Alaric clenched his teeth so tightly that his jaw began to ache.

"And what about the crown?" he asked after a moment. "Will you truly give it to Drystan even though you know I am the rightful heir?"

Harold slowly turned his gaze away from him. "That decision concerns the future of Eryndor, and I will do what is best for the realm"

Alaric said nothing else.

He simply turned on his heels and marched out of the chamber with anger and resentment burning violently inside him.

"Alaric." He suddenly heard Drystan’s voice from further down the corridor.

"I was waiting for you. Everything is prepared already, we only have to leave," Drystan said with a smile.

Alaric turned toward him with his jaw still clenched tightly. "Go enjoy yourself alone," he muttered coldly.

Drystan blinked in confusion. "What?"

But Alaric had already stormed past him in complete fury, leaving Drystan standing there in confusion as Alaric disappeared down the corridor.

Shortly after, the servants came to meet Drystan where he stood quietly. "Your Highness, the carriage is ready," one of them announced respectfully.

Drystan’s gaze lingered on the direction Alaric had disappeared to while the servant waited for a response. Silence stretched between them for a moment before Drystan finally sighed softly. "It seems we will not be needing it anymore," he said.

The servant blinked in confusion. "Your Highness?"

"I will no longer be attending the festival," Drystan replied before turning away and making his way back towards his chamber.

Meanwhile, Alaric was unable to sleep that night. He had shut the doors of his chamber behind him and his brows remained tightly drawn in rage that refused to settle. Eventually, that anger curdled into something far more bitter.

All his life, he had believed the throne of Eryndor would one day belong to him. He had grown up with that certainty, carried it with pride and spoken of it as though it had already been placed upon his head. Yet now, his younger brother was being considered instead.

What would people say about him?

They would laugh behind his back and whisper that he was the prince who failed to become king. The thought burned through him violently and with it came resentment towards Drystan.

He hated him.

He hated him so much.

Why did he even have to be born? If Drystan had never existed, none of this would have happened in the first place.

As those thoughts darkened, something far more sinister crossed Alaric’s mind and he did not push it away.

What if Drystan simply ceased to exist?

Then there would be no one left to threaten his birthright, and the crown of Eryndor would finally be his.