IRENE
VHEGA (NORTH KINGDOM)Snow fell heavily upon the Kingdom of Vhega, blanketing the land in an endless sea of white. The chill in the air was biting, as if the very essence of the North was seeping into one's bones. Princess Irene, with her striking red hair, had known only this cold, desolate land since birth. The sun was a distant memory to her, something she had seen only in dreams.
Today, the cold felt even more piercing than usual. Her chamber, draped in rich, heavy fabrics, seemed darker and more foreboding as her maidens prepared her for the day's grim proceedings. They dressed her in a white silk gown that shimmered in the dim light, its purity stark against her pale skin.
Irene shivered as her older brother Vladivostok entered the room without warning. His hair, nearly white, contrasted sharply with his crystal green eyes-eyes that mirrored their father's and her own. He looked her over, assessing her like a piece of livestock. His touch was cold as he twirled a strand of her red hair before letting it fall.
"You are ready," he said to the maidens, nodding his approval. "Bring her to the hall once she is finished."
As Vladivostok turned to leave, Irene's heart sank deeper into despair. She despised him, her family, and this life. Her brothers, Idahl and Vladivostok, were as cold and ruthless as the land they ruled. Idahl, the elder, was methodical and calculating, while Vladivostok was cruel and impulsive. Their mother, Queen Isis, shared Irene's red curls but had long since lost any spark of life or joy.
Irene's eyes filled with a deep sadness as she was led to the hall. It was a grand room, filled with the nobility of Vhega, all dressed in the traditional red and white. The scene resembled a hall of blood, reflecting the kingdom's brutal nature. The council members stood at attention, discussing their latest conquests. Her mother sat with the same lifeless expression she always wore, her doe-brown eyes dulled by years of subservience.
Her father, King Vhega Vhal the 6th, stood at the head of the hall, his presence dominating the room. He was a man feared by all, known as the Cursed King of the North. His green eyes and stern face never showed a hint of emotion. Stories of his pact with the devil to gain power over half the known kingdoms were whispered throughout the land. Irene often wondered if they were true.
As Irene took her place beside her mother, a procession of suitors entered the hall. Men of varying ages, many old enough to be her grandfather, eyed her with thinly veiled desire. Her stomach churned with revulsion.
The main topic of discussion among the nobles was the recent victories in the West. Her father had taken over several kingdoms in the past seven months, solidifying his rule.
"Glory to the gods," one council member exclaimed. "King Vhal has brought the West to its knees. The Kingdoms of Thraxis and Valais now bow before us."
"Indeed," another added. "The West is but a shadow of its former self, thanks to our king's unmatched prowess."
Irene tried to block out their voices, but the words kept echoing in her mind. She glanced over to see her father in deep conversation with an elderly man, his hair as white as the snow outside. They spoke in hushed tones, their faces grave.
"Mother," Irene whispered, her voice trembling. "Who is that man speaking with father?"
Her mother's eyes flickered with a rare emotion-fear. "That is the new king of the West," she replied softly.
Irene's heart pounded. The new king of the West? Her mind raced with possibilities, none of them good. She had heard stories of the brutality with which her father had taken the Western kingdoms. She feared what this could mean for her.
YOU ARE READING
REIGN
Werewolf"REIGN" delves into the treacherous game of power within the 7 Kingdoms. While many dream of the glory of royalty, the reality is far grimmer.