The grand hall was filled to capacity today. Everyone was gathered, from the most humble of ministers to the highest of lords. Those who had been absent the previous day were now in attendance, and the atmosphere buzzed with a mixture of tension and anticipation.
As always, the chatter was incessant, the various factions within the council whispering and arguing among themselves about how best to address the latest crisis facing their realm: the matter of Aldric, the prince, being mated to Islinda, a woman who, as it turned out, was a dark Fae.
The discovery had sent ripples through the court, and today’s eting was more crucial than ever. The factions were divided, each holding its own views on how to deal with this unprecedented situation. The topics ranged from how to mitigate the potential fallout to the more extre asures so were eager to propose.
As they were still in the middle of these heated discussions, the heavy wooden doors at the far end of the hall opened with a low groan, and King Oberon entered.
His presence alone was enough to silence the room. Perhaps it was the lesson from yesterday, or perhaps it was the sheer gravity of the situation, but every voice fell silent almost imdiately.
The king’s imposing figure cut through the room like a knife, and his blue, piercing eyes scanned the crowd, assessing them one by one.
He walked with deliberate steps to his ornate golden throne, its high back and gilded armrests a symbol of his authority. Without a word, he took his seat and gestured for the eting to begin.
At first it looked like nothing would happen with the ministers looking at one another waiting for who to start. They knew deep down that the king wouldn’t like any of their suggestions today.
Minister Ormani, surprisingly stepped forward from the line of ministers.
Clearing his throat, he began, "Your Majesty, we must acknowledge that since Aldric and Islinda are mates, there is little that can be done to separate them in the traditional sense. However," he continued, his voice taking on a darker tone, "the real concern lies in the potential for them to produce a new generation of dark Faeries. This could pose a significant threat to the realm in the future."
A hushed silence fell over the hall as his words sank in. He could feel the eyes of every lord and minister on him, gauging his next words. "Therefore," Ormani pressed on, "it is my suggestion that we take steps to ensure that Aldric cannot impregnate Islinda."
A heavy silence followed. Then, King Oberon’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. "You want to castrate Aldric?" His tone was cold, almost mocking. "A prince? My own son?"
So of the ministers groaned from the back. Of course, they knew Lord Ormani would fuck this up.
Ormani visibly paled. He hadn’t thought his suggestion through, and now he was feeling the full weight of his blunder. His mouth opened and closed as he scrambled for a response.
"N-no, Your Majesty," Ormani stamred. "Perhaps... perhaps we could, ah, remove Islinda’s womb instead? She is not of royal blood, so it would be less... controversial..."
His voice trailed off as he realized the gravity of his mistake, the king’s glare boring into him like ice. "My apologies, my king," Ormani finished weakly, stepping back into the line of ministers, his face flushed with embarrassnt.
The tension in the hall was thick enough to cut with a knife. The king’s anger was palpable, a dangerous undercurrent that everyone could feel. For a long, tense mont, no one dared to speak.
Finally, King Oberon broke the silence, his voice carrying an unmistakable edge. "Any better opinions?"
His tone made it clear that the previous suggestion was not only unsatisfactory but insulting. The room was still, the ministers exchanging uneasy glances, each one wary of drawing the king’s ire.
The general, stepped forward. "Your Majesty," he began, "there may be another way. The bond between Aldric and Islinda can be broken."
"What?" King Oberon was stunned, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. A murmur of disbelief swept through the hall as the ministers and lords exchanged bewildered glances.
The general continued, his tone confident and sure. "I have done so research, and I have learned that there is indeed a way to break the bond between Aldric and Islinda. If this thod is used, neither of them would feel the pain of a broken bond."
The murmurs grew louder now, a wave of curiosity and skepticism rolling through the gathered council mbers. The king’s expression was inscrutable, his frown deepening as he processed this new information. After a mont, he gestured for the general to elaborate. "Go on."
The general nodded, taking a step forward. "The witches have a ritual, Your Majesty," he explained. "A ritual that can sever the mate bond without causing the agony that typically accompanies such a break. More than that, the ritual would remove the mories of the bond from both parties. They would not rember each other at all."
The revelation sent a ripple of shock through the grand hall. The council mbers leaned in, whispering among themselves in hushed, urgent tones. The prospect of a ritual that could break the bond without any of the usual consequences was unheard of. And yet, it sounded too good to be true.
King Oberon’s gaze remained fixed on the general, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And what would such a ritual require?" he asked, his voice low and cautious.
The general hesitated for a fraction of a second before responding, "It would require the consent of both parties, Your Majesty. And the witches would need certain... elents to perform the ritual. Nothing that cannot be procured, but it would take so ti."
King Oberon leaned back in his throne, his fingers drumming on the armrest as he considered this new information. The hall was silent, waiting with bated breath for his response.
The ball was now in his court.
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