In the distant kingdom, drums thundered and horns blared. The air was heavy with smoke from torches and the roar of celebration. The war had ended, and victory belonged to the dark ruler.
The grand palace gates opened, and a majestic carriage rolled in, its wheels painted with the dust of battle. The crowd erupted into cheers as soldiers lined the path, their armor gleaming in the firelight.
At last, the carriage door swung open.
King Alexander stepped down, tall and imposing, his cloak trailing behind him. His eyes scanned the sea of people, and a cold, twisted smile curved across his lips. He raised his hand, silencing the crowd for a moment before his voice boomed through the courtyard.
"Feniz is no more," he declared, his words sharp as steel. "We crushed them... we burned their pride, and we claimed their land. Today, we celebrate our victory!"
The people shouted in unison, though many did so out of fear rather than joy. As fireworks burst into the night sky, Alexander's evil smile deepened, his gaze gleaming with hunger for more power.
To him, one kingdom was never enough.
---------------------------------------------------
Alexander moved forward, his boots echoing against the marble floors as he entered the towering palace. Inside, waiting at the grand hall, stood a woman with gentle eyes and a proud smile-his mother, Queen Zara.
For the first time that day, the cold mask on Alexander's face softened. She was the only one he truly cared for. Stepping closer, he bent down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
But before the moment could linger, a deep, mocking voice cut through the hall.
"Don't kiss my wife."
The words echoed like thunder.
From the shadows emerged King Fernandez, Alexander's father-a man feared across kingdoms, a ruler whose name alone sent shivers through armies. His cruel smile matched the darkness in his eyes.
Alexander straightened, and for a brief second, father and son locked gazes. Then, slowly, a smile-just as cold, just as merciless-spread across Alexander's lips.
He was his father's son, following the very path Fernandez had carved: a path of blood, conquest, and ruthlessness.
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A palace servant entered and bowed. "Your Majesties, the food is ready."
Queen Zara, King Fernandez, and Alexander moved to the grand dining hall, where a golden feast was laid across the long table. The aroma of roasted meat and spiced dishes filled the room, yet Queen Zara's face dimmed as her eyes fell on one particular platter.
Fernandez noticed her expression immediately. His brows furrowed, but before he could speak, Alexander leaned forward, his voice quiet but heavy with emotion.
"This... this was my brother's favorite dish," he said, his gaze fixed on the plate. "I miss him."
A sudden silence fell. Alexander's eyes shifted toward his father, and in them burned a storm of anger and grief. Fernandez met his stare with a cold, unflinching gaze. The tension between father and son was sharp enough to cut through the air.
Queen Zara, sensing the clash, quickly intervened. Forcing a smile, she reached for Alexander's hand.
"Do you know something, my son? In my childhood, my brother once told me-'If you have a son, and I have a daughter, they will be married.' We even promised it to each other."
Her words hung in the air like a whisper of fate, weaving old vows with the future yet to come.
---
Queen Zara's words lingered in the silence of the hall. But Alexander suddenly pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, his voice sharp and cold.
"Impossible, Mother! I will not marry because of old promises. I will marry only the girl who bears the mark-the tattoo I have seen in my visions."
Zara's eyes softened. "Alexander... it is not a tattoo. It is a birthmark. I know, because I carry it too. It runs in the bloodline."
For a moment, the great conqueror's face shifted, the hardness cracking ever so slightly. His jaw clenched as his blue eyes darkened with restlessness.
"This mark... and those same blue eyes," he whispered, almost to himself. "They will not let me sleep. Night after night, they come to me in my dreams. A face I cannot see clearly... yet always there. Always watching."
Queen Zara reached out gently, but Fernandez only leaned back with a cruel smile, silently amused at his son's torment.
Alexander turned away, his cloak brushing against the floor, his voice low and haunted.
"Until I find her... the one with the mark and the eyes... I will know no peace."
---
One month later...
The Rajput palace was filled with soft music and glowing lamps. Today was Princess Aira's sixteenth birthday. She walked gracefully into her father's chamber, her silk dress trailing as her heart raced. Something in her father's tone earlier had made her restless.
King Virendra Singh Rajput rose from his seat with a serious expression, though his eyes held warmth for his daughter. Queen Isabella stood beside him, her posture strict but proud.
"My princess," her father began gently, "you are sixteen now. And you know our nation's law... every princess must marry at this age."
Aira's lips pressed together. She had feared this moment, yet she lifted her chin bravely.
"Papa," she said softly, "I will marry the boy you choose. But..." She paused, her voice trembling but determined. "Before that, give me one year. One year to see the world, to live freely, to understand life beyond these palace walls."
Silence followed her words. Queen Isabella frowned slightly, but King Virendra's gaze softened. He studied his daughter's pleading eyes-the same spark of innocence and fire he had always admired in her.
At last, he nodded. "Very well, my princess. You shall have one year. One year to see the world. After that, you must return and fulfill your duty."
Aira's face lit up with joy as she hugged her father tightly, her heart soaring with the taste of freedom. For her, it was the beginning of an adventure. For fate, it was the first step toward a dangerous collision with destiny.
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The morning sun kissed the palace gates as Princess Aira mounted her beloved horse, Bella. With excitement sparking in her eyes, she tugged the reins and whispered, "Come on, Bella. Our journey begins."
The horse galloped across open fields, the wind whipping through Aira's hair as the palace disappeared behind her. She rode for hours until she reached Hirwat, a place famed for its beauty-lush valleys, clear rivers, and vibrant markets filled with travelers.
Stopping near a shaded grove, Aira dismounted Bella and unpacked her small bundle of food. As she settled to eat, voices drifted to her ears. A group of young men were resting nearby, speaking with eagerness.
"Did you hear? King Alexander has returned from war," one of them said with admiration.
Another laughed. "Yes, he is one of the most handsome kings I have ever seen."
A third scoffed, lowering his voice. "Handsome, yes... but ruthless. He kills without hesitation. His enemies fall like dust before him."
The group fell into a heated discussion, talking of Villin, Alexander's kingdom-its grand palaces, its bustling city streets, its dark reputation, and its beauty unmatched.
Aira's curiosity burned brighter with every word. She had heard whispers of Alexander before, but never like this. Handsome. Ruthless. A king who brought fear and awe in equal measure.
She glanced at Bella, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips.
"Then it's decided," she whispered. "We will see this Villin City for ourselves."
Her heart raced with both excitement and an unspoken pull-one she could not yet understand.
---
After days of travel, Aira finally reached the gates of Villin City. The towering walls rose before her, strong and proud, the banners of victory fluttering high in the wind. For a moment, she sat on Bella, her eyes wide with wonder.
As she entered, the city unfolded before her like a painting. The streets were alive with color-market stalls overflowing with jewels, silk, and spices; musicians playing on every corner; fountains glittering under the sunlight. Laughter and chatter filled the air, mixing with the scent of roasted meats and sweet pastries.
Aira's heart swelled with joy. She had seen beauty in her own kingdom, but this city was different-grand, powerful, alive in ways she had never imagined.
She wandered through the streets, her cloak wrapped lightly around her shoulders, laughing with children, sampling food from the stalls, and marveling at the artistry of the buildings. Everything felt new and thrilling.
For a while, she forgot the weight of her mother's strict words, the shadow of marriage, and the chains of tradition. Here, in Villin City, she felt free.
Yet, in the back of her mind, she remembered the whispers she had overheard-the stories of the ruthless king who ruled this land.
And though she didn't know it yet, her steps were carrying her closer to him with every passing moment.
-----
🌕Alxendar and zara : (pov)
In the dark stone halls of the Villin palace, Alexander stood before a polished mirror, fastening the clasp of his royal cloak. His armor gleamed, his sharp features reflecting both pride and restlessness. Today, he was preparing for a royal meeting, but his thoughts were far away.
Queen Zara entered softly, her eyes lingering on her son. "Alexander," she said gently, "how many days will you wait for this girl of your dreams? You refuse every proposal. Why not choose from the princesses who long to be your queen?"
Alexander's jaw tightened. He turned from the mirror, his voice firm. "No, Mother. I will not marry just anyone. I want her. The girl with the mark. The girl with the eyes that haunt me. Until I find her, I belong to no one."
Without waiting for her reply, he swept past her, leaving the scent of steel and determination in his wake.
Queen Zara watched him go, her heart heavy with both pride and worry. Slowly, she lifted her hands in prayer, her voice soft and trembling.
"god... guide my son. Bring him the girl he seeks, the one who can calm the storm in his heart."
The palace grew quiet again, but fate was already moving-because the girl Alexander dreamed of was closer than he knew.
---