Spellbound [wlw]

13

Richard Roubaix was a prince who valued his privacy. Away from the bustle of the palace, he relished in the stillness of his chamber. Yet, even in these quiet moments, his mind churned with ambition. He wanted the crown, and he wanted to rule with absolute power over the humans.

Richard's thoughts turned to his late brother, Prince Anslem.

He could never forget the day he'd spied Anslem, disheveled and fidgeting, returning from a secret meeting. He had followed Anslem, watching as he met with a cloaked figure. There was something about the clandestine nature of the rendezvous that piqued Richard's interest.

He didn't know who the figure was, but he knew it was a woman. And he knew that she had somehow managed to ensnare Anslem, a man who had always been unshakably composed.

Richard saw an opportunity in this knowledge.

Richard had bided his time, waiting patiently for the right moment to strike. He knew that this secret could be used to his advantage, if he played his cards right.

Anslem had been imprisoned following his accusation of being bewitched by a witch. Richard had made sure to be present during his trial, observing the spectacle unfold. He watched as Anslem was beaten and tortured until he finally succumbed to his injuries, weakened by hunger and thirst.

The news of Anslem's death had spread quickly throughout the palace.

Now, with Anslem out of the way, he was one step closer to the throne.

In the aftermath of Anslem's death, Richard had wasted no time. He had made sure to be seen as the grieving cousin, mourning the loss of a loved one. Yet, behind closed doors, his mind was spinning with new possibilities.

He knew that the people would be looking for a scapegoat, someone to blame for Anslem's death. And Richard had already chosen the perfect target; the witch. He knew she was dead, after finding her corpse laying on the floor the night he set out to bring his cousin back to the palace.

By playing on the people's fear and mistrust of magic, he could use the situation to his advantage, rallying support for his own claim to the throne.

Richard awoke to the peaceful quietude of his quarters, the way he preferred it. As the crown prince, he relished his private moments away from the din of the palace. Yet, his inner stillness was often at odds with the fiery ambition that drove him.

He rose from his bed, his thoughts already whirring as he moved to the bath chamber. There, he would bathe and dress himself, eschewing the servants who were always on hand to tend to his every need. He preferred to do these things himself, his independence something he valued dearly.

As Richard allowed the warm water to cascade over his body, washing away the remnants of the night's sleep. But even as he cleansed himself, his mind remained focused on his plans for the kingdom.

He knew that humans were cunning creatures, with knowledge and resources that could be harnessed to strengthen his reign. But first, he had to find a way to control them, to bend them to his will. And he had a plan, one that involved the witch who had ensnared his late cousin's heart.

Once he was dressed in the fine, tailored garments that befit his station, Richard exited his room and met with his right-hand man, Theo. Theo had taken up the mantle after the untimely death of his brother, the former right-hand to Richard's deceased half-brother, Prince Anslem.

Theo bowed his head in respect as they began the brisk walk towards the breakfast hall, their footsteps echoing off the polished floors. They passed palace guards and servants along the way, but neither Richard nor Theo acknowledged them.