Forced Into Tyranny

17: Bound by Oaths

Thevalon Castle,
The Southern Gardens.

       A grand altar, embellished with detailed carvings and festooned with offerings, stood at the heart of the grove. The bride, donned in a resplendent gown, woven with threads of gold and silver, reflecting the divine radiance that surrounded her, walked towards the king. Her steps accompanied by the soothing melody of birdsong and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Her face reflecting the anguish of her shattered heart as her eyes betrayed the internal pain she felt.
       On this fateful day, the air was thick with preparedness as three sacred rites were to be performed. The first, a solemn binding ceremony between the king and his betrothed, conducted by a revered priestess of a temple in Sallón Home. Under the covenant of blood and oath, their union was sealed before the watchful eyes of the esteemed peerage. As their palms were cut open, crimson droplets of blood fell upon a sacred plate. The mingling of their life essence symbolized their unbreakable bond, and in that moment, countless oaths were made, promising unwavering devotion, love, and protection. Their blood, now forever intertwined, sealed their commitment in a solemn and powerful ritual.
       Next came the vibrant festivity of wine and flowers, where the bride embarked on a ritual of utmost significance. With each step she took over shards of glass, she made solemn promises. The first step symbolized honesty, the second loyalty, and the third purity. Meanwhile, the king, amidst a handpicked selection of noble ladies, began contemplating to choose a companion to serve him in times when his wife was unable to attend to his desires. In the midst of the courtiers' curious and intrigued gazes, the intimate rite commenced. Seven young girls, who had endured the pain of hysterectomy, stood before Hagnon. Among them was Sally, a nineteen-year-old girl, who caught his attention and was immediately chosen. On the other side of the garden, Hecuba's eyes locked with Lyra, who longed for salvation from the impending pain of the glass shards beneath her feet.
       As Hecuba approached her lady, she extended a pair of slippers, her face hardened with a mixture of resignation and understanding. "I had a feeling he would choose Sally," she murmured, her voice tinged with bitterness. "His preferences always seem to lean towards those on the edge of wild."
        Upon lifting her gaze as she slipped the slippers under her feet, Lyra noticed Sally. Strawberry hair like her mother, Gertrude, penetrating eyes and a damaging smile. Wild might not have been the word. Perhaps heathenish.
       Standing before a towering tree, Lyra strained to take in the scene surrounding her. Lost in the fervor of the initial rituals, she had failed to notice the details. The proud faces of the nobility staring at her, their gaze drilling into her being. A darkened aura enveloping the queen mother, casting a shadow over the proceedings. Meanwhile, Kōgon indulged himself with excessive sips from his goblet of distilled wine. Varma, the princess, exchanged secretive glances with a lord named Leveni, who had been introduced to Lyra as the Lord of the Summit Sage. However, Lyra sensed an air of deception cloaking him, like a fraudulent facade concealing his true nature. Who was she to worry about the princess?
       The soft sunlight caressed Rørikus's face, the second prince, as it filtered through the leaves above. The ground beneath their feet was adorned with a vibrant tapestry of delicate flower petals, creating a picturesque scene. As expected, Teresson was absent from the gathering.
       And now, the momentous culmination awaited the king and his bride as they stepped into the majestic throne hall. There, Alaric, the revered Shaman of Sallón Home, would officiate the sacred coronation ceremony, bestowing upon the king's bride the esteemed title of queen.
       Alaric, the man who rarely showed a smile, maintained his solemn expression as he performed the final ritual binding the newlyweds. The exchange of two gold rings sealed their union, while Alaric loudly offered a prayer to Symoude for the strength of their bond.
       And at long last, a crown crafted from the amalgamation of gold, blood, and the essence of past fallen Queens was slipped over Lyra's flawlessly fashioned head. The crown shimmering with the brilliance of precious gemstones, symbolizing her new regal status. The echoes of footsteps resonated through the hall, as the peerage, courtiers, and esteemed guests acknowledged the weight of their destiny. The realm of Thevalon embraced its new sovereigns with open arms and thunderous applause.
       Surrounded by both loving and frustrated people, the couple sealed their commitment with an impassive kiss, and, not noticing how unemotional the couple was, the hall erupted in joyous celebration. The air loud with laughter, music. To the Thevalonians, they had been blessed with a true and beautiful queen. To Lyra Galterius, Queen of Thevalon, she had been shoved into a crown with a promise of blood and sweat, for the instructions of the gods had just become slightly clearer.
       "You have been chosen by Korax, Lyra Syagros, daughter of Pillus Syagros. Your destiny is entwined with that of a powerful man, one who is being protected by Balius himself. His fate and yours have been written in the stars by Symoude, our goddess of love. Together, you will bring hope to our people and restore balance to our world."
       The resounding words of the Priestess in Khiortos echoed louder in Lyra's mind than the joyous uproar of the crowd. King Hagnon and Queen Lyra gracefully ascended the grand staircase, taking their rightful places upon the majestic throne. With a profound sense of pride, they surveyed the sea of faces before them.
       "All hail the king! All hail the queen!" The unified chant sonorously enveloped the hall. As the sovereigns rose from their seats, a sudden hush fell over the crowd, anticipation hanging in the air. With unwavering courage, they prepared to address their loyal subjects.
       "We express our deepest gratitude for your presence on this momentous day, and for your unswerving loyalty and support," King Hagnon proclaimed, his voice resonating with both pride and appreciation. "I vow to serve you all with the utmost respect and compassion."
       With a regal nod, the Queen's eyes shimmered, feigning a radiant display of pride. "Greetings, noble people of this realm," she began, her words carefully chosen and delivered with serene composure. "On this day, I stand before you as your Queen, and I do so with a profound sense of obligation and devotion. I shall strive to uphold the highest principles of justice and honor in all that I do, and to serve you with integrity and respect. Let us join hands and hearts in building a kingdom that is worthy of our shared ideals, and that will endure for generations to come."
       The crowd erupted into cheers once more, proclaiming with fervor, "All hail King Hagnon! All hail Queen Lyra!" The rest of the occasion unfolded without constraints, free from formalities, and boundless in its celebration.
       Hours later, after a little conversation with her mother and sisters, she left the hall and started towards the gatehouse of the castle, hoping to get fresh air and ease her cheeks from the fake smile they had been holding.
       There he was.
       Standing about twelve strides away — facing a man she had now known to be Kriton — was the man she had been relentlessly searching for since the coronation ceremony began. He had certainly decided to sit it out, even when his other warrior slaves had shown their faces during her speech. Despite herself, she mustered the courage to approach, prompting Raven to dismiss Kriton with a subtle nod. Yet, Raven remained unresponsive. Rigid. Disinterested.
       "You never bothered with the correspondence," she stated firmly, positioning herself directly in front of him. "I presume forgiveness is not within your realm of consideration."
       "One cannot engage in correspondence when he willfully neglects the letters." His eyes wandered, betraying a carefully concealed longing that he kept locked within his heart. "I stay away from you, Lyra, for reasons that will do us good."
       The air hung heavy with silence, stretching out for what felt like an eternity. Finally, with a grating sound, the portcullis creaked open, and the drawbridge descended, bidding farewell to the group of Sablethons who had arrived in three carriages to attend the grand ceremony. It had not yet concluded, but had reached a point where only the council members themselves were required.
       "Your ride in a week, I imagine," Lyra said offhandedly, staring at the carriages vanishing into the dusk, and remembering the plan for him to go north in a week with the guide of the Sablethons to behead the rebels. Desiring utmost seclusion and uninterrupted moments, she motioned towards the courtyard. Raven followed without question. "Blend in," she advised as they strolled through the courtyard and caught glimpses of the stables, where diligent hands groomed and nourished the horses. "The servants only care for gossips when it pokes at them."
       Gallantly, they passed by the blacksmith's workshop, the rhythmic clang of the hammer echoing.
       "Where are we going?" Asked Raven, nearly stopping the journey when they reached the castle's well, where a servant drew water. "It is your wedding day, might I add your coronation. You should not be—"
       "Wandering about with a warrior slave?" Casting a fleeting glance over her shoulder, she furrowed her brow, as if she yearned to rid herself of the burdensome new title. "Let us, even if a for a short-lived moment, forget about what should be and should not be. Come, Raven. I want to show you something."
       Without hesitation, he trailed behind her and they finally entered the keep, a towering edifice with winding staircases and narrow passages. The lord and his family, engrossed in their festivities at the palace, provided ample space for Lyra to guide Raven through the various areas she had previously explored during her moments of solitude.
       She seized his hands and guided him through a gate that offered even greater security than the previous one, showcasing the edifice's fortified design. The windows, few and small, allowed only a trickle of natural light. The atmosphere within was peaceful and organized, with the echoes of their hurried footsteps, the faint crackling of a fire, and perhaps the quickened rhythm of Lyra's heart, but not much else.
       Reaching the final staircase, they neared the window and gazed out into the distance. Lyra had brought him here to experience the same sense of liberation and empowerment she had felt during her explorations. But she also wanted him to comprehend the emotions that stirred within her whenever he was near, and the physical reactions her body had when they were alone together.
       "You look too sad for a bride, one who just earned herself the grandest title in the kingdom."
       Lyra rolled her eyes, yet merely smiling that he was back to taunting her with words; something she definitely had missed. "Some of us care so little for titles...and more for explorations. In no way does my new title grant me that."
       It was not exactly bright, but not too dark for their facial expressions and body movements to go unnoticed, which was why Raven caught sight of Lyra as she gnawed at her bottom lip; an innocent gesture that a man like himself could not overlook.
       "Stop doing that!" He didn't only order her, but used his thumb to pull out her flesh from under the unforgiving grasp of her teeth.
       "What does it do to you?" Her eyes flickered with a wave of unfamiliarity. Raven, for the love of the gods, wanted to run off and leave her standing in the presence of her own faint shadow, but his fortitude — like her desires —was going through the harshest of tests. "Let me in...please."
       Tricky.
       From any other woman, it would have been a thrill. Coming from a queen, it was damnation.
       With each bold step forward, Raven let himself be consumed by her presence, closing his eyes to fully immerse in her essence. The intoxicating blend of lavender and peony filling him wholly, leaving him bewildered. "Shut your eyes," he said with firmness, and her response to his order was just as quick as lightning. "Tell me what this does to you..."
       Raven trailed, his capable hand encircling her waist, leaving a tender kiss on her delicate neck while consciously avoiding her lips, because his other mind reminded him of her regal status, her role as his sovereign, and the need to preserve her purity solely for the king.
       Not that he cared so much for the king that he wanted to leave the bastard to devour Lyra as much as he urged to, but tradition had it that the king could not lay with an impure woman, or she would be hanged for tainting his honor. Whatever Raven was going to do here in this keep, however long he wanted to torture himself for, he knew touching her skin was as far as he could go.
       And perhaps...
       To hell with the goddamned preservation.
       He planted his lips on hers, rough, tearing through her tightly shut lips to seek the wild taste of the fruit she must have eaten before venturing out of the castle to find him. Hands slithering up her clothed back, he fastened his grip on the fabric, so tight that even Lyra feared it rending apart.
       This was her first ever kiss, much more than she had expected to feel, way more than her governess's dry fountain of words could ever have explained. It was...beguiling to the extent that heat crawled upon her skin, down to between her thighs. Breath caught in her lungs, mind wandering through a myriad of untamed fantasies, she reached out, her left hand finding solace in the grasp of Raven's neck, pulling him closer with an irresistible force that spoke volumes of her unquenchable desire for him to never cease.
       As Raven perceived Lyra's body on the verge of floating away, not from satisfaction but from discontent, he withdrew, causing her to nearly lose her balance and teeter forward. His gaze fixed upon her heaving chest, its rhythm a rapid staccato. "What did that do to you?"
       Her words failed her, the silence engulfing her like a shroud. A woman adept at weaving words in letters, now rendered speechless. After gathering her thoughts, she softly uttered, "You have ignited a spark within me, a flame that consumes all else but my thoughts of you."
       Those were core words even Raven wanted her to retract, despite feeling the exact way the girl had managed to let out. From the corner of her eye, Lyra caught a glimpse of Raven's hand reaching out towards her, only to retract it as if he had second thoughts about making contact.
       His hand nervously tousled through his hair, his cheeks displaying tension as if wrestling with the proper words. Her heart raced, filled with anticipation for what he was about to express. Then, unexpectedly, he uttered, "We must not let this occur again, under any circumstance." Oh no, he could not have just said that after making her feel so wonderfully different. "I do not blame you, for I am the one responsible here and should not be endangering you."
       "A wolf may don in the skin of a lamb, but its hunger can never be sated."
       Raven's face remained tough and cruel. He was not moved by her attempt to erase his guilt. "A wolf's hunger cannot be sated by a single meal." He looked dead in her eyes and said, "Enjoy your union, Queen Lyra."
       Before she could object, Raven was already descending the keep. She longed for something, even if it was just a transient pleasure, but he was gone, a bittersweet longing dancing in the clear distance between them now.
       That was where it could begin and end; there in the keep — for if Raven dared to listen to his lust one more time, or if Lyra remained relentless in her seduction, they would have themselves to blame for whatever tragedy meets them.
       Mercy was found wanting in the judgment passed to Queen's who sullied themselves. Hanged or beheaded, the goal was to make sure she ceased to exist after her treason. For some bloody reasons, Lyra looked like she was riding fast towards doom, and there was certainly no one to help her.