Page 2 of Claimed By the Alien Prince
ZEVRAN
T he council chamber swells with tension, the air thick enough to cut with a knife. I sit at the head of the long, polished table, my fingers resting on its surface while the nobles squabble like children in a playground.
“Your Highness, we cannot allow them to poison our trees for their insatiable greed!” Lord Kaldin pounds his fist on the table, sending ripples through the scattered papers and maps laid out before us. His silver hair glints under the crystalline light fixtures above.
“Greed? You speak as if they’re not offering trade opportunities,” Lady Elara counters, her tone sharp. She leans forward, her emerald eyes narrowing. “What harm can come from collaborating with humans? They bring technology that could enhance our own.”
“Technology?” Kaldin scoffs, shaking his head. “You mean weapons? You’d invite destruction into our sacred land!”
A chorus of murmurs ripples through the chamber as I pinch the bridge of my nose, suppressing an urge to roll my eyes. They bicker over their petty grievances while ignoring the larger picture looming over us all.
“You sound like frightened children,” I finally interject, cutting through their noise. The room falls silent; every gaze turns to me.
“I expect diplomacy from those who wish to advise me.” I lean back in my chair, studying their faces—lined with age yet clouded by ignorance. “If you cannot discuss these matters maturely, then perhaps you should reconsider your positions.”
Kaldin opens his mouth to retort but stops short as Elara shoots him a look filled with fire.
“The humans have proven themselves time and again,” she insists, voice steady now. “We need allies if we are to stand against threats beyond our borders.”
“Or we could end up ceding control over our lands!” Another noble interjects, rising from his seat. His face reddens as he gestures wildly.
“And what of our traditions?” Kaldin chimes in again. “They don’t understand our connection to this land—only see it as a resource.”
“Maybe that’s because you’ve done nothing to show them!” Elara snaps back.
I watch them all—fools acting like petulant children arguing over toys while Verus teeters on a precipice of change. I take a deep breath and feel the weight of my crown heavier than ever.
“We will not find solutions in shouting matches,” I state firmly. “This council exists for collaboration.”
Yet their childish disputes only seem to intensify. The voices overlap until it becomes a cacophony of stubbornness echoing against stone walls.
And here I sit, an heir trapped among fools more concerned with pride than progress—a decision looms heavy over me as I contemplate how far I'm willing to go for peace... and how much further my heart must stray from duty for desire's sake.
I rise from my chair, the weight of their squabbling settling on my shoulders like a shroud. Silence blankets the room as I clear my throat, every eye turning toward me.
“Enough. They plunder what they cannot understand,” I begin, voice steady yet laced with a simmering frustration.
“They classify every flower but never ask its name.” I look around the chamber, letting my gaze linger on Kaldin and Elara, their faces flushed with fervor.
“You speak of alliances and trade, but have you considered what it means to our land? Our people?”
Murmurs ripple through the nobles, some nodding in agreement while others shift uncomfortably in their seats. They expect me to pander to their fears or fantasies, but I stand firm.
“My soldiers bleed for this kingdom,” I continue, clenching my fists at my sides.
“They fight to protect our borders from those who see only wealth in our trees and ruin beneath their feet.” The memories flood back—friends lost in skirmishes that should never have happened.
Each name burns in my mind like a brand: Talin, Jarek…
soldiers whose dreams lay buried under fallen leaves.
“Do not mistake my refusal to open more territory for cowardice,” I add, meeting Kaldin’s glare with one of my own. “It is an act of protection.”
Kaldin scoffs softly, his expression filled with disdain. Elara’s brows furrow as if she wrestles with understanding.
“Their ships circle like vultures over carrion,” I say, forcing my voice to rise above the rising tide of dissent. “We cannot afford to trust those who would destroy what they don’t know.”
As silence hangs thick again, I sense something shift within me—this feeling of being trapped between duty and desire. How many times must I repeat myself before they grasp the reality we face?
Kaldin opens his mouth again but I shake my head sharply.
“No more discussion,” I declare, turning on my heel before he can respond. My anger surges like wildfire through dry grass; every step echoes louder than the last as I exit the chamber.
Outside the door, cool air greets me, sharp against the heat radiating from my skin. The long hallway stretches before me—walls lined with portraits of ancestors who fought fiercely for Verus’ honor. A reminder that legacy runs deep; yet here I am questioning if it’s worth preserving at all.
My footsteps quicken as I walk away from their noise—my spine burns under pressure; fury seethes within me like molten rock poised to erupt.
I storm down staircases leading into the heart of Verus, where hover platforms drift between levels above me—a city alive and vibrant yet tinged with a sense of dread.
Suddenly, a voice breaks through the haze swirling in my mind.
“Even a prince can’t fight fate.”
I pause mid-step and turn back toward the chamber door where one noble lingers behind—a smirk playing at his lips like a taunt dangling before a hungry beast.
“Fate?” My voice hardens as icy resolve washes over me once more. “Fate is shaped by choices made today.”
The noble shrugs nonchalantly but his eyes betray unease—a flicker beneath bravado that momentarily pierces through layers of indifference.
“I will not yield,” I growl softly enough only for him to hear before pivoting away again.
What do they know of fate? What do they know of sacrifice? As thoughts spiral inside me like wild vines grasping for sunlight amidst darkness, each heartbeat reminds me that duty calls louder than any lingering doubts or whispers from council chambers behind closed doors.