King’s Dirty game

The torches burned low in the high halls of Velmora, and yet Prince Auren stood in his father’s chamber, surrounded by golden crests and blood-red tapestries. King Lauren Veran lounged on his obsidian throne, eyes glinting with something ancient and unreadable.

“We should host a small celebration,” Auren said, arms behind his back. “A formal gathering for the generals. It’s been weeks since the battle, and the men deserve it.”

King Lauren tapped his fingers on the iron armrest. “You’re thinking about Saryna.”

Auren didn’t deny it. “She deserves to be honored.”

Lauren stood slowly, walking toward the window that overlooked the training grounds. “Your face shows more than you speak. Something bothers you. What is it?”

The prince hesitated. “She… seemed more distracted during training. Her eyes stayed too long on one name. One man.”

Lauren's lips curled, not in a smile but something more sinister. “Ah. The boy. Thorne.”

Auren looked away not accepting what his mind knew. “He fought beside her once. But it’s nothing. She’s too focused to entertain distractions.”

“Even the strongest can fall,” Lauren said, turning. “Let her. Let her fall for him.”

Auren blinked. “What?”

“If she loves him, you’ll stop seeing her as something unreachable. And once that illusion is broken, she can be replaced.”

“That isn’t what I want,” Auren murmured.

King Lauren smiled holding his crown high while Auren looked away staring in space thinking about the plan his father just told and he decided to stop.

But Lauren's plan had already begun forming. Let the general love the wrong man. Let the prince believe she betrayed his trust. And then, she will fall from both pedestal and post. Anyway a woman whose hand is coloured with dirty low bloody humans blood can't be welcome as ruler's wife.

He clapped Auren on the shoulder. “Host your party, my son. Let her come dressed not in armor, but in emotion. That is when a warrior forgets to shield her heart.”

---

Rivaan’s Home

The air inside Rivaan’s home was tense. He had just returned from another long day of training when his mother, Sariel, sat waiting at the table, her needlework abandoned.

“You’ve changed,” she said.

He didn’t look up. “I train harder. That’s all.”

“No. Your eyes wander. And your thoughts are far.”

Rivaan exhaled. “I’m a soldier. Thoughts don’t matter.”

Sariel stood, crossing the room. “They do when they’re about someone. Some woman who’ll forget your name the moment your blood spills. Just like your father did to me.”

He stiffened. “This isn’t about him.”

“It’s always about him,” she snapped. “Because when you give your heart, you lose your spine. And I won’t let that happen to you. Not again.”

She didn’t know her son had already lost a piece of himself. Not to a girl. But to a general with wildfire in her veins and silence that sang louder than words.

---

Somewhere Between that jungle

Saryna stood near the river again, in the moonlight beyond the jungle. Her home glowed with soft lanterns in the distance. She held the blade she always did, but tonight she didn’t train.

She thought.

Of Rivaan’s name. Of the way it had stayed. Of the way her silence no longer protected her.

She did not know the king had begun to plot. She did not know Rivaan’s heart had begun to tremble.

But in the stillness of the river, a thread began to form around her wrist— tangled around her body, delicate, and already going meeting to Rivaan’s body wrapping, tangling while pulling them toward the storm they didn't knew.

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