His Caged Princess

3. Declan

Not far from the outskirts of the capital of Odairo two men were travelling towards the palace.

“Declan wait up!” a blond man in his early twenties shouted as he ran through the trees to reach the second man.

“You’re too slow,” Declan’s cold husky voice came, he didn’t once turn to look at his comrade as his dark eyes scanned the area ahead, the colour of his eyes were not common in Ehlesaar who had lighter coloured eyes, with blond or brown hair and skin pleasantly tanned under the summer sun. Declan was the opposite of the warmth of the people of Ehlesaar, his pale skin and his dark black hair gave him a foreign look, he stood at six foot four, and towered over most, with a lean yet muscular build. He would turn twenty this coming winter.

Declan was an orphan, despite his traumatic past, he remained composed and strong. However, behind those dark grey eyes, he held secrets, pain and nightmares of long ago. His frown deepened as he looked at the palace of the royals.

The time had come to face the man responsible for the death of his family. He had bided his time, keeping his pain inside him for years, no matter how scared and confused he had been as a child, his father's words kept him strong. He had always been advanced for his age, but after that dreaded night, he had changed, even more, shedding away his childish dreams and whims and focusing on revenge. To learn the truth and to bring justice to his House. Declan had risen through the ranks in the army, excelling in every field, and if ever questioned about that night he would say he did not remember.

When he was a child, when he awoke screaming and crying from a haunting dream of the massacre, he would never utter what his dreams contained. And with time, he learned to keep silent waking in a cold sweat. Till now those nightmares sometimes returned, haunting him, and filling him with regret that he had not been able to protect his family.

“Ah… can you stop with that frown,” Aren the blond spoke up, bringing Declan out of his dark thoughts, he ignored him as he continued walking, his black pants, and black tunic with his grey belt that held his twin swords held nothing to show off his status, gloves covered his hands despite the warm weather and a black cloak fell over his shoulders. He held the reins of a white stallion, that carried a few bags. A soft wind blew through the trees ruffling Declans’ black chin-length hair.

The city was getting ever closer, and Declan wanted to reach it as soon as possible.

“If you’re done talking, shall we continue?” he asked coldly. Aren sighed inwardly knowing this was not easy on his best friend and closest confidant. They were sent to the palace by the general of the western border. General Elian of House Halan, one of the five generals of the king.

“You know we were sent because general Elian trusts us more than most,” Aren said quietly,

Declan didn’t reply, from the way he stood, emotionless and calm, one would not think Declan of House Storm was the only survivor left of the entire clan. A clan that was once said to be as powerful as the royals. A clan sacrificed for the betterment of the kingdom. Aren pulled himself out of his dark thoughts despite the pain it bought to his chest, he was one of the few who would remember and never forget the gift of peace that cost Declan his entire family.

“Well do you think we’ll get to see those pretty little things?” Aren said suggestively a small smile playing on his lips.

Declan did not need to ask to know what he meant. The four princesses said to be the most gorgeous women in the land. Not that he cared, nor was he interested, he would never feel anything but hate and disgust for the royals who sacrificed for their own selfish gains.

“I'm not interested, remember why we are going there, Aren,” he said curtly as he raised his hand, a ball of lightning crackled around it, as Aren stepped back, “or I won't mind reminding you,”