Claimed By The Tyrant King

Alaric’s troops stood gathered beneath the darkened sky, the sun long swallowed by heavy clouds that turned the evening almost into night. Thunder rumbled overhead while streaks of lightning flashed through the air, illuminating the battlefield for brief moments before darkness swallowed it again. The soldiers waited in long lines for Vaelor to finally appear, their flags raised high despite the harsh wind while their horses stamped impatiently against the ground.

At the very front was Alaric himself with the general beside him and the strongest warriors lined closely behind. The sound of armour shifting mixed with the distant growl of thunder as the tension continued to build.

"It seems there will be a thunderstorm tonight, your majesty," the general muttered, glancing toward the violent sky.

Alaric remained calm. "Then Vaelor has even more reason to stop acting like cowards and show themselves. This day was agreed upon, was it not?"

"Yes, my lord."

Silence settled over them again.

Alaric’s grip tightened slightly around the reins of his horse as his eyes remained fixed ahead, patiently searching for any sign of movement. He wanted to see this beast for himself, the same creature that had terrified his entire groups of soldiers while Vaelor continued pretending strength.

Time passed with no sign of them, and the rain threatening above only grew heavier. Slowly, irritation began hardening across Alaric’s expression at the thought of being made to wait like this.

Then suddenly his gaze snapped upward.

An arrow tore through the air toward him.

In one swift movement, Alaric reached for his bow, drew an arrow, and released it cleanly, the two arrows colliding before the incoming one could reach him.

His face darkened instantly as the thick fog ahead slowly began to clear, revealing the troops of Vaelor standing in formation before them at last.

Alaric then nudged his horse forward.

"Your majesty," the general called after him.

"Stay back," Alaric ordered without even turning around.

The King of Vaelor, a broad and heavily built man, urged his own horse forward until the two rulers faced each other from a measured distance. While the other king spoke first, Alaric’s eyes quickly swept across the area behind him.

There was no beast.

"I am deeply honoured to finally stand before the great King Alaric," the King of Vaelor announced loudly.

"You should be," Alaric replied flatly, his gaze sharp and unwelcoming. "Now tell me, what exactly is this nuisance you have been causing?"

"Nuisance?" the king repeated with a laugh. "I would rather call it an attempt to rid the world of a tyrant."

The men behind him laughed along, and a muscle ticked in Alaric’s jaw.

"You know Vaelor is incapable of standing against Eryndor," Alaric said coldly. "It would be wiser for you to surrender now."

"And yet you still came personally, your majesty," the king answered. "You underestimated Vaelor and suffered losses because of it. Or have your soldiers not already told you about the beast capable of wiping them all out in a single attack?"

"I have heard enough stories," Alaric replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But I do not see the beast anywhere."

The king laughed again, louder this time, and so did the soldiers behind him.

"I am not foolish, your majesty. A loyal servant informed me of your plan to capture the beast and use it against Vaelor itself. Since I already knew your intentions, I chose not to bring it. It remains hidden and well protected."

For the briefest second, Alaric’s expression shifted.

That woman.

He had prepared for this battle expecting the beast to be present so he could force it under control and turn it against Vaelor, only to discover the plan had already been exposed ahead of time.

His eyes immediately moved toward the back where the captured woman sat locked inside the cage brought with them, and a dangerous look crossed his face as he stared at her.

"You seem disappointed, your majesty," the king mocked. "But it is not too late. Surrender now, end your tyranny here, and perhaps the world will forgive you."

Alaric spat to the side in disgust before looking back at him. "With or without the beast, this land will still become Vaelor’s grave. Eryndor does not surrender."

"Well then," the king replied calmly, already expecting that answer. "Let us see who remains standing when this ends."

The two rulers finally turned their horses and returned to their armies.

The moment Alaric reached his line again, the general leaned closer. "What happened, your majesty?"

Alaric’s face remained dark as thunder cracked overhead once more.

"The plan has already been sold out," he said, his gaze falling briefly on the woman in the cage again. Rage simmered beneath his calm exterior, and he wanted nothing more than to drag her out and spill her blood.

But there was no time for that now.

He slowly drew his sword and lifted it toward the sky. "With or without the beast," his voice thundered across the battlefield, "we fight for Eryndor today as though our lives depend on it!"

He finished speaking and the general immediately took over, raising his voice as he urged the soldiers to fight with everything they had for the sake of Eryndor. The troops answered loudly, lifting their swords into the air as chants rose across the battlefield.

Unlike before, confidence had returned to them.

The absence of the beast changed everything. What had once filled them with dread no longer stood before them, and now they believed Vaelor could finally be crushed without fear hanging over their heads. The soldiers steadied themselves, gripping their weapons tightly as they glared toward the opposing side, hatred and anticipation burning in their eyes.

Then the signal was given.

Something bright shot upward into the dark sky, sparkling briefly beneath the storm clouds before disappearing, and immediately both armies charged.

The ground trembled beneath the thunder of galloping horses while steel clashed against steel. War cries tore through the air as both sides rushed toward each other with fierce determination, each man prepared to fight until his final breath.

****

Far away from the battlefield, Rosalind stirred awake as the violent wind howled outside her room. Thunder crashed loudly overhead while lightning flashed through the windows, throwing brief streaks of white across the walls.

She pushed herself out of bed to shut the window properly, but her movements felt strangely unsteady. She had noticed it earlier that evening, something about her body felt wrong. She had been sweating constantly no matter how many baths she took, and the heat beneath her skin only seemed to worsen instead of easing.

Pressing a hand to her forehead, she moved slowly toward the table to drink some water. She poured herself a cup and drank quickly, but it did nothing to soothe the dryness in her throat.

Frustrated, she lifted the entire jug instead, but before she could drink properly, dizziness hit her hard.

The jug slipped from her hands and shattered across the floor just as lightning struck outside, bathing the room in a violent flash of black and white.

"Rosalind?"

She turned at the sound of the voice.

Rowan stood near the entrance, his eyes immediately narrowing when he saw the broken pieces scattered around her feet.

"Oh... Rowan," she breathed.

She bent down instinctively to pick up the shards, but he stopped her quickly and crouched instead, gathering the pieces himself.

"Are you alright?" he asked, glancing up at her. "You don’t look well."

Rosalind swallowed before shaking her head weakly. "I don’t know."

Rowan stood immediately and crossed the distance between them, placing a hand against her forehead. His expression darkened at once.

She was burning up.

"How are you feeling?" he asked more seriously now.

"Dizzy... hot..." Rosalind muttered softly as she pressed a hand against her head and moved toward the bed. "It doesn’t feel like a normal fever. I can’t explain it."

She sat down heavily while Rowan watched her carefully.

"Did you eat or drink anything unusual tonight?" he asked.

Rosalind tried to think despite how hazy her mind felt. "I don’t think so," she answered weakly. "But I’ve been drinking a lot of water and taking baths since evening because of the heat." 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

His gaze shifted toward the spilled water on the floor. Something about it caught his attention immediately, and when he crouched to inspect it more closely, his brows slowly pulled together.

Then realization crossed his face. "Something was added to the water."

Rosalind looked up at him in confusion.

Rowan’s jaw tightened slightly. He already recognized what kind of substance it was, and that realization only made his expression darker.

"Is it something that can kill me?" she asked quietly, fear creeping into her voice now.

"No," he answered immediately.

At least not physically.

But he knew very well what the drug was meant to do, and judging by the way her body was already reacting, it had started taking effect.

Rosalind exhaled softly in relief, though her breathing still sounded uneven.

"Rowan... stay here," she murmured suddenly, her fingers reaching weakly for his hand.

His eyes flickered down to her hand around his. For a brief second he remained still before speaking carefully. "I need to get something that can help calm the effects."

Rosalind’s lips parted slightly, disappointment flickering across her face in a way that made something tighten in his chest.

"Don’t take too long," she whispered.

Rowan nodded before leaving quickly.

The moment he disappeared through the door, Rosalind released a shaky breath. The heat beneath her skin returned almost immediately, stronger this time, and she pulled off the outer layer of her clothing in frustration before laying back against the bed in only the thinner fabric beneath.

Her chest rose and fell heavily as sweat gathered against her skin again.

Someone had put something in her water.

But why?

If it was not poison, then what exactly had they intended for her?