None of them saw it coming.
At first, it seed like a minor skirmish—a heated exchange between a Winter Court Faerie and a Sumr Court Faerie, just another instance of the age-old rivalry that had always simred beneath the surface.
It began shortly after Aldric encased Prince Valerie in ice, priming him for the kill. The Winter Court Fae, emboldened by Aldric’s victory, taunted his Sumr counterpart, his voice dripping with condescension.
"Behold the power of the Winter Court! Your precious Sumr Prince is useless! A weakling who was never fit to rule." the Winter Fae sneered, his eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction as he gestured to the frozen Valerie.
Pissed off, the Sumr Court Faerie snarled back, "Hold your tongue, you frost-face bastard. What gives you the right to rejoice in Prince Aldric’s victory when he isn’t even fully Winter Faerie? He’s nothing but a dark Fae scum, crawling from the depths of hell."
The insult was a dagger aid at Aldric’s lineage, a sore point for many in the Winter Court.
But the Winter Fae only laughed, leaning in closer. "Better a dark Fae than your pathetic prince, who gets his dick sucked by that human girl. To think he started this fight for her and lost in the end."
The insult cut deep. The Sumr Court Faerie, already seething, could handle many slights against Valerie, but not this. Not an accusation that their crown prince was frolicking with humans.
To the Sumr Fae, humans were weak, inferior, barely tolerated in Astaria. They were seen as servants, as tools. For Valerie, their proud, reverend and powerful prince, to be reduced to a plaything for a human was unthinkable.
"You take that back," the Sumr Faerie hissed. His body shook with fury, and for a second, it seed like he might restrain himself.
But the Winter Faerie chuckled darkly. "Why? Are you jealous? That a human girl can make your prince’s dick get hard so easily?"
The Sumr Fae snapped.
Without a second thought, he swung his fist at the Winter Fae, landing a solid punch across his jaw.
And that single act of violence was the spark that ignited a powder keg.
All hell broke loose.
It spread like wildfire, the fight erupting in a matter of seconds. Other faeries, both Spring and autumn, who had been on edge from the tense battle below, now found themselves drawn into the chaos.
A single insult had turned into a brawl, and then the brawl spread like a disease, infecting multiple areas of the arena. Sumr Faeries threw themselves at Winter Faeries, and vice versa, each side blaming the other, fueled by centuries of hatred.
Blades were drawn, magic crackled in the air, and within monts, the once orderly arena had devolved into chaos. The spectators who had co to witness the death duel were now part of a much larger, much bloodier spectacle. Fae on both sides were pushed into the fray, their powers flashing across the arena, creating a deadly display of elental forces.
anwhile, Aldric, still in the arena, was preparing to end Valerie’s life. He deliberately moved slowly, savoring the mont as he grasped his weapon. He knew Queen Maeve was watching, counting down the seconds to the mont he would take her son’s head. Valerie, encased in ice, was burnt out and powerless, unable to summon the inner heat that had once made him formidable. Without it, he was already beginning to die, his breath slowing as the ice seeped deeper into his veins.
But this wasn’t just about killing Valerie. For Aldric, it was a test—a challenge to Queen Maeve. Would she sit back and watch as he murdered her son in front of the entire realm? Aldric doubted it. He was waiting, almost daring her to reveal her hand.
And the Queen proved him right.
The commotion in the stands escalated, the tension rolling through the air like a thunderstorm. However Aldric’s smirk faltered when the fighting grew beyond what he expected. His eyes scanned the arena, searching for sothing that made his heart lurch in panic.
Islinda.
Fuck.
The arena was spiraling into chaos and the captain of the guards recognized the danger it was beginning to poise to the safety of the royal family.
He shouted, his voice cutting through the noise, "Protect the king and the Queens! Protecting the royal family!"
At once, the guards moved as a unified front, rushing into the stands. Their shields glead as they ford a protective wall around King Oberon, Queen Maeve, Queen Nirvana and Queen Victoria, who had been urged to the center of the formation.
The guards created a tight circle, their bodies and shields serving as barriers against the stray bolts of magic that flew haphazardly through the air. At the sa ti, they cleared a path, making way for the royal family to escape from the arena as the pandemonium escalated.
Prince Theodore, his face set in grim determination, followed closely behind, his focus entirely on one thing—protecting his daughter, Mira.
"Co on, Islinda!" Prince Andre shouted, his voice full of urgency as he grabbed her arm, pulling her along.
His eyes darted around, watching for threats. Islinda’s heart raced as they made their way through the battlefield that the arena had beco.
Unlike the other mbers of the royal family who had escaped easily, Andre and Islinda were seated above them and the fighting seed to be concentrated in their area. Hence they weren’t able to follow after the mbers of the royal family who were escorted swiftly from the scene.
Islinda lost count of the number of tis she had to duck or scream as stray spells and magical blasts streaked past her, narrowly missing her each ti.
Andre’s face was a mask of anger and frustration. Every path they tried to take was blocked by Faeries locked in brutal combat, and each ti they were forced to retreat or change direction, they ca across more skirmishes.
It beca clear that the situation was deteriorating rapidly. Andre, realizing the threat was too close, had no choice but to let go of Islinda’s hand so he could defend them both.
With his magic at his fingertips, Andre fought off any who ca too close, and Islinda, though unard, did her best to avoid danger, relying on her agility to keep herself safe. She was fast, quick to dodge and weave between strikes.
But her luck did not last too long.
"Islinda, watch out!" Andre’s voice rang out in warning.
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