The sheets were rumpled beneath Tirian And Orielle, twisted and creased but comfortable as the two of them lay side my side. Late Evening sunlight filtered through the bedroom's high windows, warming the stone walls and casting gentle shadows across the chamber. Tirian lay on his side, propped on one elbow, watching the expressions change with every word as Orielle spoke.
Her voice filled with life.
"…and they were very insistent it was true," she said, eyes bright, hands moving animatedly as she spoke. "The maids, I mean. They were talking about the old orchard beyond the palace walls. Apparently there's a tree there that's stood for centuries."
She shifted closer, the sheet slipping slightly as she sat straighter onto her side to face Tirian fully.
"They call it the Sacred Myrtle Tree," she continued. "They say it only blooms when the kingdom is at peace. Truly at peace — not just quiet on the surface."
Tirian hummed faintly, his fingers idly twirling a loose strand of her silver hair around his finger. The motion was unconscious, repetitive, soothing in a way he hadn't expected.
Orielle went on, eager to express her curiosity. "The maids swear it hasn't flowered in three years. What's strange is, it was even before everything began falling apart! But they think it might soon bloom, you know... because we've fulfilled the prophecy." She gestured vaguely between them, cheeks faintly pink. "Have you ever seen it?"
He hadn't answered. She paused watching Tirian for an answer it seemed he wouldn't give, brow furrowing as her gaze dropped to his hand.
"Tirian," she said slowly, tone teasing but edged with a pout, "are you even listening?"
His hand froze. "And why," she added, narrowing her eyes slightly, "are you playing with my hair?"
He blinked, realizing belatedly what he was doing. A low laugh escaped him as he released the strand, letting it fall back against her shoulder.
"I was listening," he said, voice warm, unhurried. "Mostly. Something about a tree… and maids with far too much time to gossip."
He leaned closer, eyes glinting faintly. "As for your hair—" his gaze flicked deliberately to the loose strands framing her face "—it's a mess again. I couldn't help myself."
Her pout deepened. "It is not a mess," she huffed, swatting his arm lightly. "Only a few strands came undone. Besides... One often purposefully lessen some strands for the sake of styling."
Despite herself, a smile broke through. And Tirian laughed too. "Styling? Hah, I'm not sure the maids would agree with this particular style you're so proud of..." Orielle's pout deepened, with Tirian just watching her warmly.
She settled back against the pillows, the playful edge fading as her expression grew thoughtful. For a moment, she stared at the canopy above them, fingers tracing idle patterns into the sheet.
"Tirian," she said quietly, "do you think the curse has lifted now?"
The word settled heavily between them. "Will the tree blossom again?" she asked. "Will the gods take care of Eldoria… and its land once again?"
His smile faded. He leaned back slightly, his hand flattening against the sheet as his thoughts turned inward. The curse. It was a word he carried heavily, one that never quite healed him yet, if it ever will.
"Well," he said after a moment, choosing his words carefully, "we did what the priests demanded."
He turned to her, his hand lifting to brush her cheek, thumb tracing gently along her jaw as he studied her face. She must know what happened... at least what the priest allowed to become known. But she only looks at me with curiosity, no fear.
"Orielle," he said softly, "do you know what the curse actually is?"
She placed her hand over his, her touch warm and grounding. "Isn't it just… misfortune?" she asked. "Darkness over the kingdom? Because you kil-... because of what happed... to your... family" She looked down for a moment, not because of fear, but caution.
A dry laugh left him. He shook his head. "Yes...That is how it looks," he said. "But no. Not exactly."
He sat up slightly, his voice lowering, sharpening with a memory he'd rather forget. "It began long before my brothers died. Before people even realized it was a curse. Crops failed. Storms grew violent. Monsters wandered far beyond their territories, striking villages that had stood untouched for generations."
His jaw tightened. " Of course, most thought it was a mere coincidence. Even the priests didn't know the sudden protection of the holy circle's disappearance." He exhaled. "Only till early this year, did a prophecy suddenly come to light."
Orielle's grip tightened.
"My father," Tirian continued, gaze drifting away from Orielle's eyes, "He did something to anger the gods. Something grave. No one speaks of it openly — not even now. But the priests say he defied a sacred pact with the Holy Circle."
He swallowed. "Then the gods withdrew their protection. Eldoria flourished only because of them. Without that favor… everything unraveled."
Orielle's eyes widened. "What did he do?" "I don't know," Tirian admitted quietly. "Or, I only know what the holy circle told the priests. Maybe the priests are guarding the full truth, maybe that's all they know too. They only say he worshiped something… ancient. Something that could have destroyed more than just our kingdom."
He pressed his thumb against her knuckles, steadying himself, he's never openly spoke of the true prophecy since that day, the day of the massacre.
"And then the prophecy came." The memory surged forward, a painful memory that would keep Tirian awake some nights.
Flashback
Tirian had been returning from the western front, armor stained with blood and ash, exhaustion clinging to him after winning a battle against the Kingdom of Varakor. Frustration was all he came home with, since he couldn't find the last few that remained of the now fallen kingdom of Varakor. As the of the citadel loomed ahead a few temple knights stopped Tirian with a message, pleading a new prophecy was given to the priests.
A priests, came forward, worry and sweat deeply engrained on his forehead, he must have raced to meet Tirian at the gates.
"There is a prophecy," the priest had said, voice trembling. "Only the king can fulfil it, There is a curse on this land my king, and you, you must be our new king to stop all the destruction and plagues!"
Tirian had stared him first, then at the rest of the temple knights, disbelief turning swiftly to anger.
"This is nonsense," he'd snapped. "I am not the king! You tell me monsters tear our lands apart because of a curse? How, pray tell can be being the king save Eldoria?"
They pleaded for Tirian to follow. After a long time of trying to convince him, they led him to the inner sanctum of the outer temple.
The prophecy was spoken aloud, each word heavy as iron:
"To cleanse the blood, one must offer blood. A kin's hand shall strike a kin's heart. Only through the blade of sorrow shall the gods be appeased. Then balance demands a union —The hand of the Maiden of Light shall bind the wound, And through her soul, the curse of the crown shall be undone."
Tirian had roared.
"Why?" he had demanded. "What crime is so great that it demands my family's death? And why does it have to be by my hand!"
The priests would only say: To save the world. That Tirian is the only bloodline that wasn't directly involved in ruling the kingdom, so he would be the only one that could take up the role of the last kin to stand.
Throne Room
The throne room had been quiet. Only two in it. The Newly appointed king Auron and the second prince Duaric. Tirian's older brothers.
Auron sat at a long table, maps spread before him, shoulders slumped with fatigue. Duaric leaned nearby, rubbing at his temples.
Tirian walked through the heavy doors of the throne room, a somber and pained look on his face. Unable to make eye contact with either brothers.
Auron had looked up and smiled faintly. "You're back. Thank you, brother. You must be exhausted."
Tirian's throat closed, and his jaw clenched. Then Tirian dropped to one knee. "I'm… I'm sorry."
Auron's face fell, he rushed beside Tirian instantly, kneeling without hesitation. "Tirian? What's wrong?"
Hands gripped his shoulders, only concern flickering over his face for his obvious distraught younger brother.
"Auron," Tirian had choked, "our father… defied the gods." Duaric approached slowly. "What... do he do?"
Tirian shook his head, tears blurring his vision. "The priests... they say, they say he had worshipped... something ancient, which is why there's a curse on our land! That it will never... it will never be restored unless..." Tirian choked on his own words, hushed slumping forward and his hand move to his face to stop his tears from falling out any further.
Auron's face twitched. His brother, the one that has only ever been stoic, hardly ever to show emotion, in tears right in front of him. "What... what is it that you have to do Tirian?" Auron said carefully, almost knowingly, that Tirian was given a task too hard to bare.
The prophecy demands your deaths," he had shouted. "And... By my hand!"
Duaric's hand flew to his mouth, Auron's face only relaxed into a warm but pained smile, his eyes starting to gleam over with tears of his own. "It's alright Tirian... you, you will do well for this king-" Tirian shouted "No! how... how could I? and how could you except it so readily!?"
"Brother-" Auron tried to console, only to be interrupted by Tirian "No.." his voice broke. "Please... you, you were always meant to be the one... no, I can't-"
Suddenly there's a swords hilt in Tirian's face, and looking up, he saw Dauric. Holding out a sword for Tirian to take from him. Dauric had a calm expression, one of understanding and care, and then he nodded. "For the kingdom... It must survive."
The memory shattered.
Tirian closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, shaking his head as if to dislodge the vivid images. Orielle was watching him, tears streaming down her face.
"Tirian…" she whispered. "I didn't... I didn't know-"
"Not many do," he said quietly, forcing a small smile as he brushed away her tears that are slipping free. " Then you... you didn't want to be king?" Orielle said through her broken voice. "No... I never wanted the crown. I wanted to be a knight. To fight for my brother. Not replace him."
Her hands wiped her eyes desperately. "But you did it to save everyone!… because you had no choice! Why can't you tell everyone? Why can't we say you're not a monster!?" She pleaded.
His gaze softened. "Orielle, I am a monster," he said. "I was one even before the prophecy." She paused, surprised by his words.
"How can a soul stay whole," he continued, "after taking so many lives?"
She didn't answer. Hopelessness falling over her. Tirian wiped another tray tear. then continued. "Besides, our enemies fear me too because of it, which gives us the upper hand"
She leaned closer, anger spreading on her face. "What use is all that if the curse doesn't lift?... What if it's not enough?"
His jaw set. "Then we fight," he said. "Either way, I will not let Eldoria fall, I will protect it to my last breath, that is what I promised my brothers."
He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. "And now, you," he murmured. "I will protect you too."
Their lips met, soft and steady, a promise rather than a demand. At first Orielle tried to push him away, still worried, still upset, but then her hands flew behind Tirian's neck, desperately pulling him closer.
I'll protect you, my little fox. Tirian repeated in his head.