Misbegotten world

Chapter 40: Consort (End of Book 1)

The Queen of the Golden Order, resplendent in her regal attire, made her way through the opulent corridors of the Golden Order Palace, her footsteps echoing softly against the polished marble. The air was thick with the fragrance of jasmine and myrrh, a fitting ambiance for the powerful figure she was. Her heralds had informed her of the awakening of Garvath, the former Demigod of War, a being whose strength and legacy loomed large in the annals of history.

As she approached the chamber where Garvath was held, she felt a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. His reputation as a dragon hunter and a warrior who had faced countless foes preceded him, and she could not afford to underestimate the man now standing before her, even if he was wrapped in the bindings of time and circumstance.

The chamber doors swung open, revealing a stark, dimly lit room. Garvath stood at the center, clad in tattered remnants of armor that clung to his muscular form like a second skin. His once-mighty presence was still palpable, a lingering aura of power and defiance. The palace guards, imposing figures in their own right, stood watch, ready to intervene should the need arise.

Garvath turned to face her as she entered, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "So, the Queen has come to gloat over her prize?" he spat, his voice low and gravelly. "What use do you have for a relic of the past? I do not wish to be a pawn in your games."

The Queen regarded him coolly, her expression betraying none of the offense his words might have inspired. "You misunderstand me, Garvath. I have no desire to gloat. I seek to understand your intentions now that you have awakened. The world is changing, and you, as a former demigod, hold significant power."

Garvath scoffed, taking a step closer, his stature imposing even in his current state. "Power? Do you think I wish to be wielded like a weapon? I am no tool for the Golden Order. I fought against dragons and the corrupt, not to become a puppet for another dynasty."

"The Golden Order is not what it was," she replied firmly, stepping forward. "I am not my predecessors. I seek to unite the fractured lands and bring peace to those who have suffered. Your skills as a warrior are unparalleled. You could be a crucial ally."

He laughed bitterly. "All I see is a throne built on the bones of those you claim to protect. I will not be a part of this."

The Queen's expression hardened, her patience thinning. "You may think you can choose your path, but the world does not grant such luxury. The time has come to make difficult choices. Join me, Garvath. Become my Consort and become the Hand of Gods like your father once was."

At her words, a tense silence enveloped the chamber. Garvath's brow furrowed, caught between shock and contemplation. The very idea of becoming the Queen's consort stirred a whirlwind of emotions within him—ambition, desire, and an underlying resentment.

"Do you truly believe I would betray my principles for power?" he replied, his voice low and firm. "I would not sully my name or my legacy by becoming a mere ornament at your side."

"Think beyond the confines of your pride," she countered, stepping closer, her gaze piercing into his. "With your strength at my side, we could reshape the world together. You could have dominion, not just servitude. I offer you a chance to be revered again, to be more than just a ghost of the past."

Garvath's heart raced, the tension in the air thickening as he struggled to process her offer. "You see me as a relic, yet you wish to make me your Hand of Gods? What does that even mean for a man who has lost so much?"

"It means you could regain your place in the world," she urged, her voice smooth as silk, yet laced with a commanding authority. "You could wield influence, respect, and the power to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Together, we can forge a future where strength and wisdom prevail over tyranny."