Crowned in Crimson Cinders

Chapter 4: Prince Darians Journey (Darians POV) - remastered

The journey to Atalar unfolded with unexpected ease. The sun, often obscured by drifting clouds, offered moments of cool relief, and a gentle breeze accompanied us. Five stoic knights rode alongside, their silence a constant presence unless I initiated conversation. Surprisingly, their company did not impede our pace.

Three days of relentless travel, punctuated only by brief nightly rests, had brought us to the precipice of Atalar. A knot of apprehension tightened within me at the thought of crossing the border. My father, King of Trithia, had assured me of a truce, an agreement guaranteeing my safe passage. Yet, after the bloodshed between our nations, I harbored a deep skepticism. Would they truly honor this accord, or would a rain of arrows greet my arrival?

The prospect of being alone in enemy territory sent a chill of unease through me, a feeling I carefully concealed. A part of me yearned for the continued presence of my escort, a silent reassurance in a hostile land. However, my father had deemed their presence within Atalar's walls too provocative, insisting the forest held the greater dangers. I disagreed. To me, the true threat lay not in the creatures of the woods, but in the elemental beings rumored to inhabit the very castle I was to reside in for months to come.

Most daunting of all was the impending encounter with the Atalarian royal family. My hands were stained with the blood of their people, hundreds fallen in this protracted war. I had no doubt that each member of their lineage would crave retribution. I was walking willingly into the lion's den.

The princes, I was certain, would be particularly eager for revenge. I knew of three. Two I had faced on the battlefield, their elemental powers formidable, their attacks barely evaded. The third, the youngest according to our reports, remained an unknown threat, though intelligence suggested he commanded the very earth beneath our feet.

They called these powers a gift, these royals. To me, they were merely the fortunate inheritors of a desperate king's plea, answered by ancient gods. But every gift demands a price.

A strange curiosity stirred within me. What would it be like to parry words instead of steel with my enemies? The shift in our conflict promised to be... interesting.

Then there was Princess Aleah, my betrothed. Our impending union had been the subject of a fierce debate with my father only nights before. I argued for the complete annihilation of the Atalarians, for crushing them beneath our heel. But Father had been resolute, his insistence on this marriage unwavering, his reasons vague and dismissive. His decision had been a constant source of contemplation throughout my journey, interwoven with thoughts of the princess herself, a complete unknown. Though war had been my unwanted companion, my driving force remained the memory of my brother, likely assassinated by Atalarian hands to destabilize our lineage.

Their strategy, however, had been flawed. They had underestimated my father's resolve, his willingness to unleash the full fury of Trithia in response to his son's death. Yet, a persistent doubt lingered. Had my brother truly perished? He had vanished, leaving no trace, no body for our spies within Atalar to find. Had all this bloodshed been for naught?

This unanswered question, I suspected, lay at the heart of my father's decision to pursue peace through marriage. It was his unspoken apology, perhaps.

Princess Aleah remained an enigma. I had never heard of her before. Was she a neglected daughter, a pawn in their political games? As the youngest of seven, unlikely to inherit the throne, why would they invest any significance in her?

The Atalarian line of succession was peculiar. Any royal child could be chosen, yet no woman had ever ascended. However, marriage disqualified a candidate. This, I surmised, was Aleah's disadvantage, her lack of political weight. Why else would they willingly remove a potential heir?

I consciously pushed away these cynical thoughts. This woman would be my wife, my companion for the rest of my days. I owed her at least the courtesy of a more positive outlook.As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of twilight, a chill permeated the air. We halted our progress a few hours shy of Atalar's gates, preparing to make camp. I secured my horse to a sturdy branch, the knights mirroring my actions, unpacking their provisions. I possessed only a blanket for the coming night. A fire crackled to life under their practiced hands. I sought the solitude of a nearby tree, leaning against its rough bark. The realization settled upon me: tomorrow, I would be betrothed to a stranger in a strange land. Looking up at the vast expanse of the star-dusted sky, I wondered if they, too, felt adrift in this boundless universe.