Elena walked into her matrimonial bedroom and with a loud sigh, she bounced into the soft bed, her gaze fixed on the high ceiling. She groaned, raking her fingers through her hair in distress. "King Killian is just so confusing." She muttered to herself, rolling lazily on the bed. "It's hard to tell what he is thinking or what he wants exactly," she added.
If King Killian was really cold and cruel like the rumors had painted him to be, why would he care if she was trying to avoid him? Why was he not okay with her trying to hide from him? If he really was a man without emotions, then he should be grateful about Elena trying to avoid him—after all, wasn't that what emotionless people wanted? Distance. Silence. Detachment?
"Argh." Elena groaned again. If she did not melt from the proximity, her brain was definitely going to explode from trying to understand him.
"No. I should not think about all these." She voiced, rising from the bed, eyes filled with a newfound determination. "Aside from planning my revenge, I also need to prepare for my upcoming wedding between Killian and me," Her gaze dropped, the determination in her eyes now replaced with fear and uncertainty.
For the first time in years, Elena was going to meet other people, and not just six to ten people, she was going to parade the whole city. What if they don't like her? What if they think she's unworthy of the King and then start humiliating her? What if she somehow annoys King Killian that day and he kills her?
"Elena, try to be positive at least once." A little voice scolded her at the back of her mind, and she sighed. Yeah, perhaps the voice was right. She should be positive. But, it wasn't so easy, considering everything that had happened to her in the past.
"Alexa, play me a nice, soothing music," Elena voiced.
"Playing music," Alexa replied, and almost immediately, a nice, slow song started.
Elena smiled. This would help clear her thoughts from everything. Thankfully, it's been over a week and Irene did not need to bathe her anymore, which meant that she could enjoy her alone time in the bathroom. No offense to Irene, she's very good at her job, but she's a little too chatty at times. At that moment, what Elena needed was space—a moment to breathe, to sink into the warmth of the water without conversation, without eyes watching her every move, just silence and the comfort of being alone.
After the long bath, Elena decided it was best to go read at the library, and because she did not know where it was located, she had to call for Irene, who gladly ran to her rescue. "Please follow me, my Queen." Irene squealed, and then she wrapped her hand around the Queen's elbow and began pulling her away while telling stories about how she had spent her day.
Elena couldn't help but sigh, now regretting why she had ordered Irene to be free around her. She was literally a talking machine. How could one even talk for so long without getting tired? And how did she always have something to say?
Soon they reached the library, its towering doors looming ahead like the entrance to a sacred temple. The scent of aged paper and polished wood wafted out the moment Irene pushed the heavy doors open.
Elena's breath hitched slightly—not because of Irene's never-ending chatter, but because the place was breathtaking. Tall shelves stretched toward the ceiling, packed tightly with books of every size and color. Sunlight poured through windows, casting golden rays across the marble floor. This time, the place wasn't designed or painted with just red and black, it was all white. Neat and clean.
Irene kept talking, of course, now going on about how she once got lost in the herbal remedy section, but Elena barely heard her. She stepped inside, feeling like she'd just entered a new world. "This place is awesome," She murmured.
"Yes, it is." Irene smiled. For a moment, Irene stayed quiet watching the Queen's every expression as she studied the library in awe before she asked, "My Queen, what would you like to read?"
Elena paused, taking her time to think about it for a while before saying, "Ancient history."
Irene's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Ah! That's a good one! We have a whole section dedicated to it—scrolls, books, even old records written by the first royal scribes!" She gently tugged on Elena's sleeve. "Come, I'll show you."
Elena followed her through the aisles, their footsteps echoing softly across the marble floor. The deeper they went, the quieter it became, until all that could be heard was the distant rustling of pages and the occasional flicker of candlelight. Finally, they arrived at a secluded corner.
"This," Irene voiced, her tone barely above a whisper. "is the oldest part of the library. Some of these books haven't been opened in decades." She stepped aside, letting Elena take the lead.
Elena reached out and ran her fingers along the cracked spine of a book that looked older than the palace itself.
"I'll be right over there if you need me," Irene said, her voice finally dropping to a respectful hush. "Enjoy, my Queen."
Elena nodded, her eyes already locked on the worn-out book with the title: The First Age: The Beginning of the Supernatural Beings.
Elena smiled, excited about what she was about to read, but the smile faded almost immediately when she realized that she couldn't understand a few words in the book. No, she actually couldn't read. Her shoulders slumped as she bit the bottom of her lip in pain. How foolish of her to come to the library when she hasn't even opened a book in years. She could only understand a few words.
Elena felt a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck, her fingers tightening around the edges of the book. With a soft sigh, she tucked the book back into the shelf before saying, "Come on Irene, let's go. I don't feel like reading anymore."
Meanwhile, a young guard stood outside of King Killian's study, eavesdropping on the conversation he was having with his Beta. He was young, new, and curious. He wanted to know if the rumors about him being the Death God were true. But most importantly, he was excited.
He couldn't believe that he had to work as a guard in the palace of the greatest King. Thank the moon goddess for making it possible, for granting him the honor of being so close to power, to danger, to the legend himself—King Killian, the man whispered about in the entire city and feared on battlefields.
A muffled gasps escaped warrior Gabriel's mouth after hearing strange information from the King. "This means, the marriage between the King and Queen is only based on a contract?" He thought. Without wasting time, Warrior Gabriel's mind linked this information to his friend.
Just as Warrior Gabriel leaned closer to the door again, it suddenly swung open with force, revealing King Killian—tall, imposing, and cloaked in an aura of pure dread. His eyes were dark as night.
Before Warrior Gabriel could even flinch, Killian's hand plunged his hand straight into his chest with terrifying precision. A sickening crunch echoed through the corridor as the King's fist tore through bone and flesh, ripping out Gabriel's still-beating heart.
Gabriel's eyes widened in shock. He gasped, choking on blood, as he looked down at the gaping wound in his chest. Silent tears traced down his cheeks. Then, with a final, shuddering breath, he crumpled to the floor…dead.
King Killian inspected the heart in his hand with a raised brow before dropping it like worthless rubble. "Young fools," he muttered, voice cold and unbothered. "So eager to die for nothing."
He turned sharply to Gareth. "Burn the body."