𝒜 ℋℯ𝒶𝓇𝓉 ℴ𝒻 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓁ℯ𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝓉ℯℯ𝓁

Chapter Fifteen - Asher

Chapter Fifteen - Asher

The dining hall felt like a cage tonight. Everything was suffocating—the constant chatter of nobles, the over-the-top feast laid out before us, the weight of expectations that had been building ever since I was old enough to understand what it meant to be the future king of Evervale. I picked at my food, moving the roasted pheasant around on my plate without really eating. The vibrant colors of the feast, once a source of delight, now seemed to mock my turmoil. I couldn't focus, couldn't shake the lingering frustration from earlier discussions with Dante, who remained blissfully unaware of the storm brewing within me.

The Moonlight Dragon still hung heavy in my thoughts. All the training, the research, the sleepless nights spent trying to unravel its secrets—it had become an obsession. Each moment I spent in the library, poring over ancient texts and faded maps, felt like a step closer to understanding something monumental. Just as I was getting close to something real, something important, my mother had to bring this up. Of course, she would.

Across from me, Dante was eating as if nothing in the world could bother him, oblivious to the quiet storm building inside me. He laughed with the other nobles, the sound bright and carefree, a stark contrast to the tightness in my chest. And at the head of the table sat my parents—the king and queen—exchanging pleasantries with the lords and ladies gathered for the feast. They radiated authority and grace, embodying the ideals of monarchy, while I felt like an imposter playing a part. I could almost see the roles they expected me to fill—prince, husband, king—and the burden felt crushing.

Then it came, the moment I had been dreading.

"Asher," my mother said, her voice soft but unmistakable, cutting through the low hum of conversation. I froze, my fork halfway to my mouth, but I lowered it before she continued. "We need to talk."

I didn't have to look up to know where this was going. I'd seen the looks she had been giving me all evening, that quiet, almost pitying expression she used when she thought I was being unreasonable. It was an expression I had come to detest. I forced myself to meet her gaze anyway, steeling myself for the inevitable.

"Yes, Mother?" I asked, already bracing for what was to come. I could feel the eyes of the other nobles flicking toward us, their interest piqued. It was the kind of spectacle they loved, the royal family in a tiff.

Her eyes softened, but there was a firmness behind them, the same look she gave when issuing royal decrees. "You've proven yourself in many ways, Ash. Your training, your commitment to the kingdom, your leadership. But there's one matter we need to address."

My muscles tensed. Here we go. I could already feel the weight of the conversation pressing down on me like an anvil. I shot a glance at Dante, my older brother by four years, but he didn't seem fazed, too busy pouring himself another goblet of wine, laughter spilling from his lips. I wished I could share his carefree demeanor, but my heart was too heavy.

"What matter is that?" I asked, though I knew the answer. It wasn't the first time we'd had this conversation, and I had hoped it would be the last.

My mother smiled gently, but it felt like she was carefully walking me into a trap. "Your future, Ash. You will soon inherit the throne, and with that comes responsibility. It's time for you to consider marriage. A queen by your side would—"

I didn't even let her finish.

"I don't need a wife to rule," I said flatly, my voice sharper than I intended. I clenched my jaw, forcing the frustration down. "I'm focused on other things right now."

Her smile faltered, but she wasn't giving up that easily, like she always does. "This is about more than you, Ash. The kingdom needs stability. The people need to know there will be continuity. A queen will help secure the future—"

"No," I interrupted again, more forcefully this time. "I'm not ready for that. And frankly, it's not my top priority right now. In fact, it's the last thing I'm worried about."

The entire table had gone quiet, eyes shifting awkwardly between me and my mother. My father, seated at the head of the table, stayed silent, but I could see him watching, his brow furrowed. This was a conversation they had been planning for some time. I could feel it—the tension, the unspoken expectations that filled the air like a thick fog.

"Ash, no one is forcing you to decide at this very moment," my mother said, her tone still gentle but more insistent. "But you must start considering your options. There are noble families—"

"I said no!" The words came out louder than I intended, echoing off the stone walls of the dining hall. The sudden silence that followed was suffocating. Every pair of eyes was on me now, watching the prince throw a tantrum in front of his family. The air was thick with tension, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and anger.

I could feel the anger rising in my chest, the pressure building. All my life, everything had been planned, dictated. My training, my studies, my responsibilities. Even now, with the threat of the Moonlight Dragon looming, they wanted me to focus on something as trivial as marriage. They didn't understand. No one did.

I pushed back from the table, the legs of my chair scraping harshly against the stone floor, a sound that cut through the silence like a knife. "I won't be forced into this," I said, glaring at my mother. My father stayed quiet, his eyes narrowing but saying nothing. The nobles shifted uncomfortably in their seats, clearly not wanting to be caught in the crossfire. I could sense the disappointment radiating from my mother, a palpable weight that only added to my resolve.

Without another word, I stormed out of the hall, the heavy doors slamming shut behind me with a thunderous echo that seemed to reverberate in my chest. The moment I was alone, the tension in my chest seemed to loosen, but it didn't dissipate. I could still feel the heat of my anger, the frustration boiling just beneath the surface. The laughter and chatter from the hall faded into the background as I made my way down the dimly lit corridors, each step echoing my mounting resolve.

I needed air. I needed space. The walls of the palace suddenly felt too close, like they were closing in on me, trapping me in a life I wasn't ready for. The weight of the crown that would one day sit on my head had never felt heavier. How could they expect me to think about marriage when the Moonlight Dragon still roamed free, a threat to everything we had built?

I stalked down the corridor, my boots echoing off the marble floor, not really sure where I was going. The gardens, maybe, or the training grounds—anywhere but here. I needed to clear my head, to think. The echoes of my mother's words replayed in my mind like a stubborn melody I couldn't shake. What did it mean to be a king? Was it merely to sit on a throne and engage in politics? Or was it something deeper, something more tied to the fate of the kingdom?

How could they not see what was happening? The Moonlight Dragon was no ordinary beast. It wasn't just some legend to be dismissed or hunted like any other creature. It was intelligent, cunning. And now, I knew it could take human form. It could be anywhere, watching, waiting. And they expected me to worry about court politics and marriage alliances? My frustration mounted with each thought, and I found myself gripping the edges of my cloak tightly, as if it could somehow ground me in the chaos swirling around me.

I clenched my fists, the tension still simmering inside me. The thought of marriage, of being tied down to someone for the sake of the throne, felt suffocating. I wasn't ready for that. I wasn't ready to play the role of a king who did things simply because tradition demanded it. I wanted to forge my own path, make my own choices, even if that meant challenging the very foundations of my upbringing.

There were bigger things to worry about—things that could destroy the kingdom if we weren't careful. The legacy of my family weighed heavily on my shoulders, but it was a legacy I felt conflicted about. My heart raced with a mixture of anger and determination. I needed to focus on the Dragon, to understand it, to protect my people from whatever darkness it intended to unleash. And if my parents couldn't see that, if they were more concerned with marriages and alliances than the very real threat looming over us, then I would have to take matters into my own hands.

And I wasn't about to let that happen.