Claimed By The Tyrant King

Drystan remained imprisoned beneath the palace while above him Eryndor slowly began slipping out of his grasp piece by piece, though he could not see any of it happening from within the darkness of the dungeon where Alaric had ordered him confined after declaring him unstable following the war. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

The wound in his chest had not healed completely and breathing sometimes came painfully to him, though what tormented him more was the memory of the guards holding him down while Alaric stood there watching without mercy in his eyes.

Above, the palace was already changing.

Alaric did not even waste a single moment. "The guards outside the western wing are to be replaced before morning," he ordered coldly while standing inside the throne chamber with several soldiers before him. "No one stationed there remains."

"Yes, your Highness," they answered immediately.

"And from now onward, nobody enters the lower cells without my approval. If anyone attempts to force their way through, arrest them immediately."

One of the soldiers lowered his head. "Even the ministers, your Highness?"

Alaric’s eyes shifted toward him. "Did I stutter?"

The soldier immediately stiffened. "No, your Highness."

"Good. Then carry out my orders." Alaric said coldly.

The men hurried away without another word while the atmosphere inside the palace slowly began tightening under his control.

At first people still believed Drystan would return. The servants whispered among themselves that perhaps the king only needed rest after the war while some ministers convinced themselves that the confinement was temporary, but as the days passed and Alaric continued appearing in court instead of his brother, doubt slowly began creeping through the palace walls.

"The king still has not appeared?" one nobleman asked quietly during a gathering.

Another shook his head. "No. They said his condition worsened after the battle."

"And Alaric?"

"He has taken over Eryndor matters for now."

The men fell silent briefly before another leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Don’t you think something is wrong?"

Before anybody answered, soldiers suddenly entered the corridor and immediately every conversation stopped.

Fear had begun settling inside the palace slowly enough for everybody to feel it.

Soon the changes became impossible to ignore. Guards who once served Drystan loyally disappeared from important positions while others suddenly found themselves reassigned outside the capital without explanation. Ministers who questioned Alaric too much were quietly removed from council meetings altogether and by the end of the second week, several familiar faces had vanished entirely from court.

One of the older ministers finally gathered enough courage during a council meeting to speak carefully. "Your Highness... with all due respect, the kingdom grows anxious. Perhaps allowing the people to see His Majesty briefly would ease their concerns."

The entire room became silent instantly and Alaric slowly lifted his gaze toward him. "Are you implying that I do not know what is best for Eryndor?"

"No, your Highness, I only meant..."

"My brother is still recovering," Alaric cut him off coldly. "Or would you rather drag a wounded king before the public simply to satisfy rumors?"

The old minister swallowed hard. "That is not what I meant."

"Then choose your words more carefully." Alaric glared daggers at him.

And nobody spoke again after that.

The following morning the old minister did not appear at court anymore. And after his disappearance, fear deepened further.

Even the servants became cautious with their voices while maids who once moved freely around the palace now kept their heads lowered whenever soldiers passed by.

"They arrested another attendant yesterday," one servant whispered while arranging dishes in the kitchens.

The other servant immediately looked around nervously. "Lower your voice."

"But all he did was ask to see the king." The first one continued, "And now nobody knows where he is."

Above all else, communication had now become tightly controlled. Letters leaving the palace were inspected thoroughly while messages arriving from outside kingdoms were handled directly under Alaric’s supervision. Nobody was permitted to speak to Drystan privately and anybody strongly connected to him was monitored closely enough that even accidental sympathy became dangerous.

One evening an elderly servant who had once cared for Drystan since childhood attempted forcing his way toward the lower chambers after overhearing enough rumors to understand something terrible was happening.

"You cannot keep His Majesty locked away like this!" the old man shouted while struggling against the guards restraining him. "Move aside!"

"Leave or else..." one guard warned harshly.

"The king trusted all of you!" the old servant cried. "He trusted his brother too!"

At the mention of that, silence briefly fell. Then one of the guards struck the old man hard enough to send him collapsing to the ground. "Take him away," He ordered coldly.

Then nobody saw the elderly servant again. And after that incident, the palace became quieter than ever.

Meanwhile Alaric continued tightening his hold over Eryndor with frightening efficiency. He now attended every council gathering personally while sitting upon the throne as though it already belonged to him and at first some ministers still referred to him as regent, even that slowly began changing as his authority expanded further each passing day.

"The kingdom remains unstable after the war," one councilman spoke during another meeting. "Several territories still fear another attack."

Alaric answered calmly. "Which is why military command must remain centralized until Eryndor fully stabilizes."

Another minister hesitated before speaking. "Your Highness... there are nobles beginning to fear that this situation may no longer be temporary."

Alaric’s expression darkened slightly. "The kingdom does not have the luxury of uncertainty," he said. "Would you rather allow panic to spread while enemies still watch our borders?"

"No, your Highness." The minister shook in fear.

"Then focus on preserving Eryndor rather than feeding unnecessary fears." Alaric countered.

Again nobody challenged him. Because by now everybody understood something horrific.

Alaric controlled the palace, the soldiers and slowly he was beginning to control fear itself.

Down in the dungeon Drystan slowly began noticing the changes despite his isolation. The guards outside his chambers were no longer the same men from before and even the servants bringing him food now avoided speaking entirely.

One evening as another tray was pushed toward him, Drystan finally stepped forward despite the pain burning through his chest.

"What is happening outside?" he demanded.

The guard remained silent.

Drystan clenched his fists. "Answer me."

Still nothing.

Frustration finally snapped inside him. "I am your king!"

At that, the guard finally looked toward him though there was pity rather than loyalty in his eyes now. "Not anymore," he said quietly before walking away.

The words struck Drystan harder than the arrow ever had.

Above him the purge continued completely and dangerously. Servants resistant to Alaric disappeared from royal service while soldiers unwilling to swear loyalty directly to him were imprisoned or removed entirely. Palace records were rewritten and official documents no longer referred to Alaric merely as acting in Drystan’s place but instead as the ruler maintaining Eryndor through crisis.

And eventually what everybody feared finally came to pass.

****

Alaric stood alone within the throne chamber late into the night while staring at the empty throne before him. The room was silent except for the sound of thunder outside and slowly he ascended the steps until he finally stood before the throne itself.

For years he had imagined this moment.

For years he had believed it belonged to him.

And now nobody remained powerful enough to take it away again.

Behind him the doors suddenly opened and one of the ministers entered before lowering himself immediately.

"Your Highness," he said carefully. "The council has reached a decision."

Alaric turned slightly. "And?"

"They believe Eryndor requires permanent leadership moving forward." He spoke in fright.

A smirk touched Alaric’s lips. "Then prepare for it," he ordered.

News spread quickly afterward that the acting ruler of Eryndor was now officially to ascend the throne as king.

Nobody opposed him...

Nobody stopped him...

Because there was nobody left willing to.

People still questioned but eventually some accepted it because they feared him. Others accepted it because order still remained under his rule. And many accepted it simply because surviving mattered more than truth.

When the day finally arrived, the throne chamber filled with nobles, ministers and soldiers alike though the atmosphere lacked joy. It didn’t feel like a celebration but forced acceptance and surrender on their own part.

And one by one, the ministers, soldiers, guards, servants, lowered themselves before him.

Alaric was no longer merely regent in practice.

As Alaric finally sat upon the throne of Eryndor with the crown placed upon his head, the kingdom officially accepted its new ruler while beneath the palace walls, the true king remained locked away where no voice could reach him anymore.