Post by 𝕄𝕖𝕣𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕪 on Mar 9, 2024 7:17:38 GMT
The castle was abuzz, even with the early morning hours. The maids were in fancy dresses, the guest rooms were full of royals from all over the stretch of Oikoumene. Dante himself was dressed in a tailcoat and ironed pants with a white undershirt. He was up earlier than he usually would be, set for a meeting with the other advisors and the King, preparing for the day ahead.
The King had much warmer to him since the Ball, back to normal terms. Especially since Dante avoided Alex and Athena as if they were the plague. It wasn’t anything they’d done, but he couldn’t chance dragging them down with him if this went wrong.
He didn’t offer much at the meeting. The Advisors were all assigned their duties to make this royal wedding go off without a hitch. Dante himself would be acting behind the scenes, according to His Majesty. He’d be in charge of greeting guests to the Kingdom and guiding them around. Many of the advisors would be doing such tasks. One of the older men was assigned to look after the couple to be for the day, to make sure everything went off without a hitch. The King spared Dante no glance when assigning that, but he knew it was purposeful.
Right, the King had assumed and then been convinced that there was no anything between Dante and the Prince. The King had even warmly commented in passing that Dante wouldn’t be as corrupted as that, ruffling his hair fondly, and sending on his way days before.
As the meeting wrapped up, Dante stared at his hand, clenching around an object he’d hidden the whole time. He told Alex he’d act, he’d stop this. He had been too cowardly to do it before hand. Too frozen to speak, too scared. But now Alex and Athena would pay if he didn’t do this.
He had to. He had no choice.
As the King spoke to the group for final announcements, he smiled at them all, “Well, that’s that, my good men, unless any of you have anything else to mention.”
“Sire,” Dante commented, voice soft, as he lifted his gaze to the King. The man looked a bit put-off by Dante speaking up, but flashed a smile regardless.
“Yes, Dante?” The King was back to calling him by name too, as if he had a soft spot for him. It was opposite of that ire. It was like when Dante first came to the Kingdom, young and eager to help.
“Could we speak?” He glanced at the interested faced around them, wondering why one of the youngest among themw as asking to speak to the King of all people. Dante forced his voice not to shake as he spoke, hand tightening on the object in his grasp, set upon his lap now. “In private?”
The King’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded, just once. A jut of his head, and turned. That was as much of a dismissal to the meeting as they’d get, and Dante stood quickly, slinging he satchel over his arm and speedwalking after the monarch.
The halls in the castle were quiet in this area, with guards posted silently outside of the doors. The short figure of Dante Thorsten pushed through the doors past the guards, after the king.
King Chadwick’s imposing figure lead the way, silent as could be, and Dante was silent as well. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he felt like he was being led to execution grounds rather than one of the many meeting rooms in the castle.
As the King entered his personal office, the guards went to follow, but the imposing figure of the King held up a hand towards them, shooing them away. His gaze flickered to Dante for a moment, a faux warm smile on his face, before he focused on the guards, “Just a meeting with one of my advisors, stay posted outside my doors.”
With the upcoming wedding, security had been tighter, and usually, Dante would love that he was trusted enough by the King to be with him, but knowing what he knew now, he felt a sense of terror at being alone with the man.
As they entered the room, and the door closed, Dante stood awkwardly for many moments as the King went to sit, to which the King joked with him, “Come sit with me, young Dante, you wish to talk?”
“I do,” he replied without really thinking about it, moving to stand before the King’s desk, but not sitting. He folded his hands before him, counting the seconds as the King fiddled with knickknacks on his desk.
“What about?” The king asked, fixing Dante with a sparing glance before turning to documents and other objects he had. He usually did this during meetings, since most meetings were relaxed, just updates.
Dante opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, so he snapped his mouth shut, looking away for a moment. How did one say that they wanted to have a wedding called off? That they wanted a King to leave their friends to themselves. That they had enough information to get what they needed, that they would share it and tear this man down if it came to it.
Because King Chadwick had once been someone Dante looked up to, the poor man with the troublesome son who just wanted the best for his kingdom. The man who extended a hand to him, gave him a home and a job. But then Dante saw the true colors. The girl in the cellar, the son and his bruises, the story of what truly happened between him and the Queen.
When he looked back at the King, he seemed impatient, staring at Dante and waiting. That prompted Dante to finally speak, his words almost mindless, but straight to the point, “The wedding,” he commented, hollow and suddenly apathetic. He used to look up to this man, one who thought of him as some kind of funny little advisor, as if he was something inferior to him. A man who he used to admire, and when he learned the truth, a man he feared. But now, it’s like he had nothing left to fear.
The King’s eyebrows rose, faux concern etching onto his face, “Is something wrong? Is the bride-to-be okay?” he questioned, his face hardening into a glare then, “Did Alexiares do something?”
“Alex didn’t do anything,” Dante defended, perhaps too quickly, taking a deep breath before speaking again. The King’s eyes flashed in warning at that, as if Dante defending the man he’d been tasked to be around for years was suddenly a crime. He stood there, looking down instead of at the King, sat in his little chair. A deep breath, then he spoke, “I just feel that this match isn’t good for either Alex or Athena.”
He dared a glance up, and the King looked confused, perhaps slightly irritated, but still calm, “Why would you say that? They’re friends, are they not?”
How did Dante argue this? How did he get this across that he wanted Athena and Alex to be happy? How could he say he wanted it to stop because he knew they wouldn’t be?
“Friends or not,” Dante commented, careful for a few moments before he personally convinced himself that indeed, he’d have to be on the King’s bad side to have any chance at winning this, “I think you, King Chadwick, know more than anyone just how south a half thought-out marriage can go.”
The King’s demeanor changed, his patient eyes turning hard and angered, none of that charm, however fake it might have beem present. Dante had never seen them directed at him before, at least not prior to this whole marriage business, had always seen them directed towards Alex though, and he suddenly had even more sympathy for the Prince. This glare was worse than the others, for this wasn’t speaking out of turn, it was questioning, “I don’t understand what you’re getting at, Thorsten, but you ought to watch what you say.”
Dante had seen Kings and Queens alike intimidate others. He’d seen them try and succeed to scare him. King Drake had done so, and Dante had ended up running away like a cowardly animal with its tail tucked between its legs. But there was too much at stake here. He refused to have Athena and Alex be under this man's control any longer. He would no longer stand by, knowing this man toyed with his son as he did and pretended it was all in the name of his Kingdom, of his family.
“I thought it would be obvious,” he said, voice innocent but with an edge to it, as if his wit was a sword to use in battle, “The war with Levina, when Queen Adreana left with Prince Alexiares-”
“Thorsten,” the King’s tone was foreboding, a warning, low and agitated.
“-and then you had to have your own wife executed because she betrayed you,” Dante finished, keeping his voice stable, his pose straightened. Inside his heart was beating incredibly quickly, but he made sure not to outwardly show it. The whole hiding thing he had to partake in recently had helped with that, keeping all those secrets.
“What is your point, boy?” King Chadwick questioned, his hand curled into a fist on that table. How many times had he used it to hurt someone? His own son?
Dante glared at it, and then back at the King, his voice measured and cool, “My point is that your attempt to rid yourself of your youngest son is a political nightmare. This entire wedding is a joke, and you haven’t learned anything from your own past.”
The King was fuming at this point, his glare burning holes through Dante, though the advisor stood his ground, raising his chin as he gained more passion to speak, to tell of his concerns and of his complaints for this King. “It looks bad, to save your son from an enemy Kingdom, but to pawn him off the second you can. I understand he might not be the most agreeable person, but that in itself isn’t a reason to try and send him off.” He commented, cold and analytical. “Additionally, you could marry a Prince to many of the other Kingdoms and form an alliance, but you chose to let him marry a simple Lady, an action which brings little to no political advance to yourself. So why, exactly, is Prince Alexiares to marry Lady Frost?”
The explanation and question were succinct, but they lead to the things he planned to discuss if the King didn’t concede to his point and call off the wedding. Dante knew he wouldn’t. Chadwick was proud, and Dante knew that going into this.
While Alex and Athena weren’t the greatest people in Dante’s book, it was Dante’s threat to Athena about revealing her that made her stay, and it was her staying which put her in this position. It was only right that he do everything he could to get her freedom back, but additionally, he couldn’t stand the idea of Alex being pawned off to marry someone. Sure, Alex was a Prince and likely expected it, but it wasn’t something Dante could stand for. Not anymore. Alex had enough of people controlling him, and Dante would do everything in his power as an Advisor to the Prince and his family to make sure Alex got the freedom he deserved too. It was his duty. The same duty this King had put on his shoulders years ago.
The King had gained this guarded look, and it reminded Dante that to be a King, you had expectations, but you’d likely forgotten the fact that people could question you. Not that they should, not that they had any right to according to most people. But Dante had never been one to blindly follow. Maybe he had, a while ago, before he learned the truth. But he had always had his curious mind, it was just a matter of whether you questioned the flaws in logic or not.
“What are you getting at?” the King questioned, his figure looming over his table, standing over Dante and casting his shadow over him. The advisor could see the angry gleam in his King’s eyes, and a part of him wanted to go hide.
But he had accepted what had to be done, had accepted he’d likely lose his job. He knew he had places to go if that was the case. He knew Chadwick would likely never want to see his face again. Banned from this Kingdom, from Caspian, from Alex.
“You don’t want me to say that out loud, my King,” Dante commented, stepping forward himself as the King’s fist moved to swipe some of his own papers off his own desk. Dante planted his own hand on that table, leaning forward, a fire in his own eyes, “Just take my word for it, and cancel the wedding. Neither Alex nor Athena wish to be put into such an arrangement.”
“Get out of my office,” the King demanded suddenly, his voice grating and cold, but his eyes were becoming impassive again. He was using his authority to try and get the problem to go away, just like he’d done to Alex for the entirety of the Prince’s life.
Dante had to draw on the part of him that took the respect for Alex’s apparent ability to be an absolute pain in the ass, his palm laying on the table curling into a fist as he looked straight into the King’s eyes. “No,” he said, voice turning agitated, “I am not finished speaking,” he added.
“I don’t care, as your King, I demand you get out of my office right this minute!” King Chadwick bellowed, and even if Dante didn’t already know this man had his secrets, he’d be smart enough to know a reaction like this was a last-ditch effort to hide them. To keep them quiet.
“As an advisor to this family, who serves both you and the Princes of the Kinnaird family, I will not be doing that,” Dante replied, voice cooler, unmoving as he looked at the man before him, “My duty is to act in the best interest of the family and the kingdom of Oralee. This marriage is not in that best interest.”
The King looked as if he wanted to strangle Dante, and knowing what he knew, Dante was terrified at the very prospect that the man would. This man hurt his own son, what would stop him from attacking him too?
“I’ll have you fired and banished,” the King commented, eyes a raging fire, “You have no right to come in and make these demands. I will not be calling off a wedding just because of the words of a childish advisor who has forgotten his place.”
“Go ahead,” Dante challenged, “But with my banishment will come the truth of what you’ve hidden.”
The King froze then, his gaze on Dante. He likely didn’t think much when Dante first mentioned it, but to bring it up again showed that he likely had something important, and he did.
“Whatever could you possibly be speaking of?” the King asked as if attempting to be innocent. As if Dante was only confused or was falsely accusing him of something. But there was a dangerous underlay to that question.
Dante took a deep breath, already thinking through what he’d prepared for how he found this out, a bit of a fib, but one to keep Alex from being persecuted if this went entirely south.
“You have factioneer bloodline in your royal family,” Dante spoke as if delivering a sentence, one of his hands moving to grab the strap of his satchel he had with him. Inside it was his proof, proof he did his best to find legitimately, old records and catalogs of transactions. Not everything was for certain, there were some strange accounts, likely burnt documents or hidden transactions so as to not arouse suspicion, but if one knew the good places to look, they could find all they needed. Find those strange occurrences, and bring them into question.
For once, the King didn’t seem to have anything to say, his face showing off his emotions so easily. Fear, concern, and anger were just some, to name a few.
“From the look on your face, it’s just as I presumed,” Dante commented, voice cold and angered, “You not only knew about this, but you hid it.”
The King looked just mere seconds from collapse, his face seemed to burn red in anger, and he was fuming. He looked as if he wanted to kill someone, and this time Dante wasn’t entirely sure if it was him. The King was likely thinking about the Factioneer in question.
“How did you find out?” the King spat out, though it was more of a demand than a question, “Did he tell you?”
He needed to lie, and Dante was never that great of a liar, but it was crucial he be able to do this one, “He didn’t need to,” he said, tearing his gaze away to dig through his bag for the papers and another one of those magic resisting crystals. Not one of Alex’s, but another one he was able to find through vast research and some sources he had found on his own time. It had led him to find one of those little geodes, and he placed it in front of the King, right on his desk.
“The jewels he wears reminded me of ones I have seen before,” Dante commented, and this was a part of the fabricated story, a part he had to learn from research, but also from his deductions. Minke also had the crystals on her, and she had been with Drake beforehand. Drake was known for his treatment of those within the magic community. “I’m sure you are familiar with King Drake and his usage of them within Taluhtah.”
“How would you even suspect something like that?” the King questioned, looking at the geode with guarded eyes, trying his best to keep on a poker face, as if they both didn’t already know the truth.
“I was assigned, by you, to watch your son for years now,” Dante commented, deadpan at that moment, “I was dedicated to doing what I was tasked to do, and I spent enough time around him to notice how eerily familiar they are to other ones I’ve seen.”
Like Minke’s, but he couldn’t mention her. If he did, that opened a new can of worms. But the urge to yell at this man for locking a young girl, a teenager, in a dungeon as if she was a criminal was very hard to fight. But he couldn’t for many reasons. If he did, it’d reveal he knew much more than he was supposed to. It would cause questions to be asked, it would lead to more revelations. The whole thing could turn on its back.
“Well,” the King mentioned, trying to keep his face nonchalant despite how angry he obviously was, his lips downturned and that red anger on his face, on the scrunch of his eyes, “You can’t prove anything.”
That smug bastard. Even with this evidence he still acted so above Dante, like he was better than him.
“Oh but I can,” Dante commented, boldly continuing, “And if you don’t follow my requests and think about what is best for your son and your Kingdom, I will take the information I know to the council. I will tell everyone what you’ve hidden and what you’ve done.”
Dante really didn’t want to do that, it was more of an empty threat than anything. It was more of a threat to expose how the King had worked with criminals to get those jewels, maybe how he treated his son. But Dante wanted to do everything to avoid hurting Alex. Maybe he wouldn’t have cared, months ago when he and the Prince were at odds. Now, however, he saw the Prince as a rival, perhaps, but a friend. Perhaps even more, though he refused to let his mind tread that direction. They fought from time to time, but they had a deep understanding of each other.
Dante cared about the prince and his well-being, and he liked to believe the same was held towards him. He felt bad, even, for going against Alex’s wishes by even talking to his father. Alex had asked him not to do this, but eventually agreed. Alex had told him to stay out of it, had demanded it, but Dante had argued and the Prince had eventually, reluctantly agreed. Dante had to do this, and maybe a deep part of Alex understood that. That Dante had made Athena stay, and part of this was his fault. Additionally, Dante couldn’t imagine Alex having to marry someone like this. Someone who didn’t want to marry, even if it was part of the whole being a Prince thing. If what he insinuated at the Ball was true, his interests would never be in marrying a woman at all.
“What I’ve done?” King Chadwick replied with a bit of a demeaning chuckle in his voice, angling a very accusatory look at Dante, “I am not the disgrace who was cursed with abilities like a vermin.”
Dante lost a bit of his cool at that, at hearing this cruel man speak that way about his own son, about Alex, “Don’t you dare refer to him as if he is a curse!” helashed out, surprised by his own outburst as his hand came down on the table again, creating a loud thump as his fist landed on the wood, and he knew his eyes were full of fury too now. There was a tension in the air that you could likely cut with a knife, “Your son hasn’t done anything wrong. It wasn’t his choice to have the abilities he has, and even with them, they don’t change who he is.”
Whatever respect this King may have had left for Dante, it was funneling out so quickly Dante could see it by the condescending look the man was gaining, “Are you telling me you condone his abilities? Him?”
Dante hadn’t when he first heard. Heck, he couldn’t deny the small amount of fear he felt those first few weeks after he’d learned. The wariness he felt. The words of his own parents and people he’d met who had always warned that someone with abilities could hurt you whenever they wanted. That you could easily be killed or twisted to their demands if they so wished.
Maybe that was true, but Alex hadn’t ever purposely hurt anyone. Any person he may have ever hurt was likely out of fear. Society wasn’t accepting of those with abilities, and Dante knew if he had an ability like that, he’d be terrified.
“As I said, they don’t change who he is, they’re part of him,” Dante commented, and he never planned to admit this. He planned to simply threaten and leave it. A part of his mind was reminding him that he was going off base, he was revealing too much.
Chadwick’s lips curled in disgust, “They make him dangerous, you don’t know who he’s hurt with them. What I did was for the protection of the people who have to be stuck around that boy, people like you.”
Dante clenched his fists, glaring at the man before him, “You want to know whose dangerous?” he questioned, lifting his hand to jab it towards the King, pointing it straight into the other man’s chest, glaring up at him. “It’s you. Not him. You are the one who hurt your own son in an attempt to control him. You continue to do so time and time again. But he never fights back, he just bears it and does whatever you say because he has no choice. He hasn’t ever purposely hurt anyone, and he sure as hell hasn’t ever hurt me.”
He took a deep breath after his words, barely able to hear his own puffs of breath over the heartbeat he could hear thundering in his ears. He felt adrenaline buzzing through his body, and he was sure that it was the one reason he was still breathing, still here talking to a King of all things like this.
He was thrown off by the King laughing, laughing of all things in that disbelieving chuckle, and suddenly the King’s ignorant gaze felt like it was looking through Dante. He subconsciously took a step back, heart rate spiking just a bit more. “You have no intention of telling anyone anything about any of this,” he commented, and Dante had truthfully hoped he wouldn’t realize that, wouldn’t point it out, “You care too much about that brat to do anything more than say big tough words in hopes I’ll cave.”
Dante froze, mouth falling open, “Whatever do you mean?” He tried to keep bravado in his voice.
“Oh, not much,” The King said, dismissively, amused, “Just that I had been right in my assumption.”
Dante was losing this, he’d said too much to Alex’s defense, he’d fallen right into that trap, and it was going to all be for naught. He shook his head, “Which one, your honor? You make so many false ones it’s hard to keep count.”
The King flashed him a cold glare, but had a mean little smile to his lips that burned Dante’s insides in fury. “My son’s affliction and your involvement.”
Dante paled, but shook his head, “I can assure you that I have no such involvement,” He commented, aghast at the accusation, “You’re son was born the way he is, powers, feelings, all of it. That’s who he is, sire. I can’t change that. You can’t change that.”
He expected Chadwick to yell at him again, but the King quirked his lips cruelly. It’s as if he was scanning prey rather than an Advisor he’d worked with for years.
“Silly boy,” Chadwick commented, “Anything can be changed with enough pressure.”
Dante went to argue, but Chadwick but a hand up, “And I wasn’t blaming you for my son’s…affliction. I was just making an observation about you.”
Dante froze, feeling as if he was standing before his own father, talking down on him again. Insisting he marry, that he was confused. Being called out like that was chilling. He backed up a half step, looking down. He couldn’t say anything to that, because Chadwick wasn’t wrong.
Dante was gay.
“You wouldn’t say anything to endanger my son,” Chadwick cooed, mockingly, “You care for him, like the disgusting, pitiful little lowlife you are. I’d almost say that’s a perfect match if it wasn’t so disgusting.”
Dante felt each word like a knife, he was making things worse. For himself, for Alex, for Athena. He had to say something else, something to truthfully scare the man into submission. His mind was going so fast, and he stood there for several moments thinking.
“What if I told them how you treated him?” Dante questioned, his eyes returning back to the King who looked smug as if he’d already won this whole argument, “How you hurt your own son to keep him in line?”
“I’d tell them the truth of who he is,” King Chadwick replied, seeming intrigued yet annoyed by this new topic of conversation. He didn’t even look remorseful.
“You wouldn’t,” Dante pointed out, “You may not care about him, but you know if it gets out that you knew this whole time, you’d be just as guilty. Your own Kingdom would lose trust in you, they’d turn on you. That’s why you’re marrying him to a Lady instead of a Princess, that’s why you’re pawning him off the first chance you get. So you can play naive if it ever comes out. So you can play naive if they were to bore a child with abilities, and you could claim that it came from Athena rather than Alex. You may not care about Prince Alexiares, but you do care about yourself.”
“I could tell them enough to fool them,” Chadwick commented, brave in his answer, his attention already waning.
“Maybe you could. Maybe they wouldn’t care that you hit one of your own children, maybe they’d be too afraid to care,” He wasn’t even thinking anymore, he was just speaking. “But how’d they felt about the fact that you let a Telekine into your kingdom and that she got out? That you knew about it, but never did anything about it?”
He didn’t even realize what he said at first, but the King’s gaze on him made him freeze. He couldn’t even breathe for a moment.
He said too much. He said way too much.
His knowledge about the Telekine, in general, would be fine, he could excuse that with King Drake and that whole conversation. But mentioning that she got out? That she escaped?
Dante wasn’t supposed to know about that, no one but a select few was supposed to know about that. Dante wasn’t one of them.
The King looked as if he was on the brink of a realization, he finally moved away from his desk, stepping around it towards a frozen Dante, standing over him, in a looming figure.
“How would you know about that?” he questioned, and if Dante thought the rest of this confrontation was terrifying, he didn’t even know what terror was. The King’s voice went so cold and dark and threatening that Dante actually gulped at it. “Who else knows? Alexiares? Lady Frost?”
“I-” Dante commented, wanting out of this situation as quickly as possible, directing his gaze to the ground, “no, it’s-” lie, lie, he had to lie, “it’s just me.”
He had to prove it, he had to protect them, he couldn’t let the King know that they knew. He couldn’t have the King hurt them or suspect them.
“How did you know about that, Thorsten?” the King asked again.
Dante winced at how cruel his name sounded in the man’s voice, and took a deep breath, preparing to answer.
“King Drake had told me about her,” Dante commented, still looking down, “I became curious about whether we really did have a Telekine in the Kingdom, so I went to check.”
He was shaking. He could see it in his fingers, wrapped into the strap of his satchel. He noticed the way his knuckles were white, but he continued, “I hadn’t expected a scary criminal such as herself to be so tiny or young,” he commented, feeling his gaze harden with his anger, “Or scared. Was Alex like that, when you hurt him?”
Dante looked up, and he didn’t expect the hit that came. The King had picked up a cane leaning against his desk and had swiftly used it to smack the Advisor clean across the face. Dante himself backed up, head flying to the side slightly and trying to put distance between himself the the royal. The King didn’t even look bothered by this, stepping closer to Dante again, grabbing him harshly by the lapels to pull him forward, “That was the day she went missing.”
The accusation there was unspoken but obvious. Dante had seen her that day, he even admitted it, and it was the day she went missing.
His cheek was stinging, he could feel a bruise already forming right under his eye, probably around it, and his heart was beating like a hummingbird in his chest, struggling to free itself, and it felt like he couldn’t breathe.
“I know,” Dante said, his gaze locked right on the king as he slipped his hand into his satchel, securing his hand around the key he had kept hidden all this time. He slowly brought it out, his hand clasped around it so tight he feared it would bleed, and he watched the King’s gaze focus on the key, realization sparking his eyes, “I’m the one who set her free.”
Not a moment after he said those words was he thrown back, his feet stumbling for solid purchase as he crashed into the wall of the King’s office. He heard ruckus as something on the wall fell, likely some decor the King had put up. His back was now stinging as well, and his leg felt like jelly, unable to hold him up. He ended up slumping down to the ground, the panic settling in.
He glared up still though, at the man with murderous intent, holding the key up to show it off, “I heard from King Drake, and you’d never mentioned anything like that. I didn’t see any records of it. So I checked the dungeons to double-check his claims, and I found her. I found a kid who was locked up like an animal. I spoke to her, and I learned about what ignorant and selfish Kings like yourself and King Drake are capable of. How you will hurt anyone to get what you want.”
He stopped to take a breath, still glaring at the King. The King cruelly walked closer, and Dante shrunk back against the wall, tugging the key close to his chest as the King raised the cane again. Dante could see the cruel glint in his eyes, and as he scrambled back, the hit came. A blinding, agonizing pain, hitting his side, he could feel ribs crack in protest and fell to the side, coughing as he scrambled away from the man.
Glaring up at the man as he cradled his side and the key, he raised his head defiantly. “How do you think everyone will feel about the fact that you had a Telekine in your dungeons the whole time? That you knew she escaped, and yet you never notified your council about it?” His words were winded, broken apart by waved of agony, but said with such an anger.
The King was silent, not uttering a word, but he was approaching again, and that terrified Dante quite a bit.
“I will notify them about that if you don’t call off the wedding.” Dante said, only adding fuel to the flame, but unable to regret it. Better him than Alex or Athena or Minke. So he raised his head and forced himself into sitting up, “If you do not leave both Athena Frost and Alex Kinnaird alone, I will tell them all about that dirty little secret,” Dante commented, forcing a cunning smile on his face despite the situation, “And everyone will know your mistakes. How you didn’t trust your own council, advisors, or your own family. You worked with a King from another Kingdom and still yet lost a ‘dangerous’ criminal.”
The King looked as if he was contemplating, finally coming to a stop in front of Dante as he leaned down. He was considering the words, Dante could see it. Despite himself, he felt a bloom of hope blossom in his chest. The King realized this whole business wasn’t worth some silly wedding then, after all.
Reach out and grabbing Dante’s jaw, thumb resting over the bruising cheek, pressing into it and raising his head, the King spoke. “They won’t know any of that,” he said, voice dangerously passive yet decisive, “You’ll be dead before you can say it.”
At that sentencing, his head was dropped, the King grabbed Dante’s wrist which had the key. The same hand cradled against his aching side. Forcefully tugging him to his feet and yanking after him as he stormed to the door, throwing Dante out of the room and raising his voice to call for guards.
Dante landed roughly, body falling into the wall opposite of the King’s office. He glanced up at the man, eyes horrified, and the King looked back coldly. No warmth, no guilt, no remorse.
Dante yelped as he was grabbed by the guards on duty, trying to tug away, though dread had set in, his blood running cold.
As the guards came, grabbing him to lead him to the dungeons to await his fate, he raised his voice at the King again, one final attempt, “Do what you want to me!” he screamed out, gaining the King’s attention again, even as the guards dragged him back, “But you have no idea who you’re truly messing with.”
The King’s eyes widened. Dante could make him think he was in cohorts with Minke, maybe, especially since he was the one to have freed her. But the King didn’t need to know if she’d get involved or not. He didn’t need to know anymore. Indeed, Dante wasn’t even talking about Minke. He was speaking about the bride.
Even the mention of mysterious person had people in the hall that saw the seen buzzing with questions, and as he was dragged out of view, he could see the hesitance on the King’s face as he watched the people begin to talk.
That would have to be enough.
He just hoped Alex and Athena could find happiness after all.
The King had much warmer to him since the Ball, back to normal terms. Especially since Dante avoided Alex and Athena as if they were the plague. It wasn’t anything they’d done, but he couldn’t chance dragging them down with him if this went wrong.
He didn’t offer much at the meeting. The Advisors were all assigned their duties to make this royal wedding go off without a hitch. Dante himself would be acting behind the scenes, according to His Majesty. He’d be in charge of greeting guests to the Kingdom and guiding them around. Many of the advisors would be doing such tasks. One of the older men was assigned to look after the couple to be for the day, to make sure everything went off without a hitch. The King spared Dante no glance when assigning that, but he knew it was purposeful.
Right, the King had assumed and then been convinced that there was no anything between Dante and the Prince. The King had even warmly commented in passing that Dante wouldn’t be as corrupted as that, ruffling his hair fondly, and sending on his way days before.
As the meeting wrapped up, Dante stared at his hand, clenching around an object he’d hidden the whole time. He told Alex he’d act, he’d stop this. He had been too cowardly to do it before hand. Too frozen to speak, too scared. But now Alex and Athena would pay if he didn’t do this.
He had to. He had no choice.
As the King spoke to the group for final announcements, he smiled at them all, “Well, that’s that, my good men, unless any of you have anything else to mention.”
“Sire,” Dante commented, voice soft, as he lifted his gaze to the King. The man looked a bit put-off by Dante speaking up, but flashed a smile regardless.
“Yes, Dante?” The King was back to calling him by name too, as if he had a soft spot for him. It was opposite of that ire. It was like when Dante first came to the Kingdom, young and eager to help.
“Could we speak?” He glanced at the interested faced around them, wondering why one of the youngest among themw as asking to speak to the King of all people. Dante forced his voice not to shake as he spoke, hand tightening on the object in his grasp, set upon his lap now. “In private?”
The King’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded, just once. A jut of his head, and turned. That was as much of a dismissal to the meeting as they’d get, and Dante stood quickly, slinging he satchel over his arm and speedwalking after the monarch.
The halls in the castle were quiet in this area, with guards posted silently outside of the doors. The short figure of Dante Thorsten pushed through the doors past the guards, after the king.
King Chadwick’s imposing figure lead the way, silent as could be, and Dante was silent as well. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he felt like he was being led to execution grounds rather than one of the many meeting rooms in the castle.
As the King entered his personal office, the guards went to follow, but the imposing figure of the King held up a hand towards them, shooing them away. His gaze flickered to Dante for a moment, a faux warm smile on his face, before he focused on the guards, “Just a meeting with one of my advisors, stay posted outside my doors.”
With the upcoming wedding, security had been tighter, and usually, Dante would love that he was trusted enough by the King to be with him, but knowing what he knew now, he felt a sense of terror at being alone with the man.
As they entered the room, and the door closed, Dante stood awkwardly for many moments as the King went to sit, to which the King joked with him, “Come sit with me, young Dante, you wish to talk?”
“I do,” he replied without really thinking about it, moving to stand before the King’s desk, but not sitting. He folded his hands before him, counting the seconds as the King fiddled with knickknacks on his desk.
“What about?” The king asked, fixing Dante with a sparing glance before turning to documents and other objects he had. He usually did this during meetings, since most meetings were relaxed, just updates.
Dante opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, so he snapped his mouth shut, looking away for a moment. How did one say that they wanted to have a wedding called off? That they wanted a King to leave their friends to themselves. That they had enough information to get what they needed, that they would share it and tear this man down if it came to it.
Because King Chadwick had once been someone Dante looked up to, the poor man with the troublesome son who just wanted the best for his kingdom. The man who extended a hand to him, gave him a home and a job. But then Dante saw the true colors. The girl in the cellar, the son and his bruises, the story of what truly happened between him and the Queen.
When he looked back at the King, he seemed impatient, staring at Dante and waiting. That prompted Dante to finally speak, his words almost mindless, but straight to the point, “The wedding,” he commented, hollow and suddenly apathetic. He used to look up to this man, one who thought of him as some kind of funny little advisor, as if he was something inferior to him. A man who he used to admire, and when he learned the truth, a man he feared. But now, it’s like he had nothing left to fear.
The King’s eyebrows rose, faux concern etching onto his face, “Is something wrong? Is the bride-to-be okay?” he questioned, his face hardening into a glare then, “Did Alexiares do something?”
“Alex didn’t do anything,” Dante defended, perhaps too quickly, taking a deep breath before speaking again. The King’s eyes flashed in warning at that, as if Dante defending the man he’d been tasked to be around for years was suddenly a crime. He stood there, looking down instead of at the King, sat in his little chair. A deep breath, then he spoke, “I just feel that this match isn’t good for either Alex or Athena.”
He dared a glance up, and the King looked confused, perhaps slightly irritated, but still calm, “Why would you say that? They’re friends, are they not?”
How did Dante argue this? How did he get this across that he wanted Athena and Alex to be happy? How could he say he wanted it to stop because he knew they wouldn’t be?
“Friends or not,” Dante commented, careful for a few moments before he personally convinced himself that indeed, he’d have to be on the King’s bad side to have any chance at winning this, “I think you, King Chadwick, know more than anyone just how south a half thought-out marriage can go.”
The King’s demeanor changed, his patient eyes turning hard and angered, none of that charm, however fake it might have beem present. Dante had never seen them directed at him before, at least not prior to this whole marriage business, had always seen them directed towards Alex though, and he suddenly had even more sympathy for the Prince. This glare was worse than the others, for this wasn’t speaking out of turn, it was questioning, “I don’t understand what you’re getting at, Thorsten, but you ought to watch what you say.”
Dante had seen Kings and Queens alike intimidate others. He’d seen them try and succeed to scare him. King Drake had done so, and Dante had ended up running away like a cowardly animal with its tail tucked between its legs. But there was too much at stake here. He refused to have Athena and Alex be under this man's control any longer. He would no longer stand by, knowing this man toyed with his son as he did and pretended it was all in the name of his Kingdom, of his family.
“I thought it would be obvious,” he said, voice innocent but with an edge to it, as if his wit was a sword to use in battle, “The war with Levina, when Queen Adreana left with Prince Alexiares-”
“Thorsten,” the King’s tone was foreboding, a warning, low and agitated.
“-and then you had to have your own wife executed because she betrayed you,” Dante finished, keeping his voice stable, his pose straightened. Inside his heart was beating incredibly quickly, but he made sure not to outwardly show it. The whole hiding thing he had to partake in recently had helped with that, keeping all those secrets.
“What is your point, boy?” King Chadwick questioned, his hand curled into a fist on that table. How many times had he used it to hurt someone? His own son?
Dante glared at it, and then back at the King, his voice measured and cool, “My point is that your attempt to rid yourself of your youngest son is a political nightmare. This entire wedding is a joke, and you haven’t learned anything from your own past.”
The King was fuming at this point, his glare burning holes through Dante, though the advisor stood his ground, raising his chin as he gained more passion to speak, to tell of his concerns and of his complaints for this King. “It looks bad, to save your son from an enemy Kingdom, but to pawn him off the second you can. I understand he might not be the most agreeable person, but that in itself isn’t a reason to try and send him off.” He commented, cold and analytical. “Additionally, you could marry a Prince to many of the other Kingdoms and form an alliance, but you chose to let him marry a simple Lady, an action which brings little to no political advance to yourself. So why, exactly, is Prince Alexiares to marry Lady Frost?”
The explanation and question were succinct, but they lead to the things he planned to discuss if the King didn’t concede to his point and call off the wedding. Dante knew he wouldn’t. Chadwick was proud, and Dante knew that going into this.
While Alex and Athena weren’t the greatest people in Dante’s book, it was Dante’s threat to Athena about revealing her that made her stay, and it was her staying which put her in this position. It was only right that he do everything he could to get her freedom back, but additionally, he couldn’t stand the idea of Alex being pawned off to marry someone. Sure, Alex was a Prince and likely expected it, but it wasn’t something Dante could stand for. Not anymore. Alex had enough of people controlling him, and Dante would do everything in his power as an Advisor to the Prince and his family to make sure Alex got the freedom he deserved too. It was his duty. The same duty this King had put on his shoulders years ago.
The King had gained this guarded look, and it reminded Dante that to be a King, you had expectations, but you’d likely forgotten the fact that people could question you. Not that they should, not that they had any right to according to most people. But Dante had never been one to blindly follow. Maybe he had, a while ago, before he learned the truth. But he had always had his curious mind, it was just a matter of whether you questioned the flaws in logic or not.
“What are you getting at?” the King questioned, his figure looming over his table, standing over Dante and casting his shadow over him. The advisor could see the angry gleam in his King’s eyes, and a part of him wanted to go hide.
But he had accepted what had to be done, had accepted he’d likely lose his job. He knew he had places to go if that was the case. He knew Chadwick would likely never want to see his face again. Banned from this Kingdom, from Caspian, from Alex.
“You don’t want me to say that out loud, my King,” Dante commented, stepping forward himself as the King’s fist moved to swipe some of his own papers off his own desk. Dante planted his own hand on that table, leaning forward, a fire in his own eyes, “Just take my word for it, and cancel the wedding. Neither Alex nor Athena wish to be put into such an arrangement.”
“Get out of my office,” the King demanded suddenly, his voice grating and cold, but his eyes were becoming impassive again. He was using his authority to try and get the problem to go away, just like he’d done to Alex for the entirety of the Prince’s life.
Dante had to draw on the part of him that took the respect for Alex’s apparent ability to be an absolute pain in the ass, his palm laying on the table curling into a fist as he looked straight into the King’s eyes. “No,” he said, voice turning agitated, “I am not finished speaking,” he added.
“I don’t care, as your King, I demand you get out of my office right this minute!” King Chadwick bellowed, and even if Dante didn’t already know this man had his secrets, he’d be smart enough to know a reaction like this was a last-ditch effort to hide them. To keep them quiet.
“As an advisor to this family, who serves both you and the Princes of the Kinnaird family, I will not be doing that,” Dante replied, voice cooler, unmoving as he looked at the man before him, “My duty is to act in the best interest of the family and the kingdom of Oralee. This marriage is not in that best interest.”
The King looked as if he wanted to strangle Dante, and knowing what he knew, Dante was terrified at the very prospect that the man would. This man hurt his own son, what would stop him from attacking him too?
“I’ll have you fired and banished,” the King commented, eyes a raging fire, “You have no right to come in and make these demands. I will not be calling off a wedding just because of the words of a childish advisor who has forgotten his place.”
“Go ahead,” Dante challenged, “But with my banishment will come the truth of what you’ve hidden.”
The King froze then, his gaze on Dante. He likely didn’t think much when Dante first mentioned it, but to bring it up again showed that he likely had something important, and he did.
“Whatever could you possibly be speaking of?” the King asked as if attempting to be innocent. As if Dante was only confused or was falsely accusing him of something. But there was a dangerous underlay to that question.
Dante took a deep breath, already thinking through what he’d prepared for how he found this out, a bit of a fib, but one to keep Alex from being persecuted if this went entirely south.
“You have factioneer bloodline in your royal family,” Dante spoke as if delivering a sentence, one of his hands moving to grab the strap of his satchel he had with him. Inside it was his proof, proof he did his best to find legitimately, old records and catalogs of transactions. Not everything was for certain, there were some strange accounts, likely burnt documents or hidden transactions so as to not arouse suspicion, but if one knew the good places to look, they could find all they needed. Find those strange occurrences, and bring them into question.
For once, the King didn’t seem to have anything to say, his face showing off his emotions so easily. Fear, concern, and anger were just some, to name a few.
“From the look on your face, it’s just as I presumed,” Dante commented, voice cold and angered, “You not only knew about this, but you hid it.”
The King looked just mere seconds from collapse, his face seemed to burn red in anger, and he was fuming. He looked as if he wanted to kill someone, and this time Dante wasn’t entirely sure if it was him. The King was likely thinking about the Factioneer in question.
“How did you find out?” the King spat out, though it was more of a demand than a question, “Did he tell you?”
He needed to lie, and Dante was never that great of a liar, but it was crucial he be able to do this one, “He didn’t need to,” he said, tearing his gaze away to dig through his bag for the papers and another one of those magic resisting crystals. Not one of Alex’s, but another one he was able to find through vast research and some sources he had found on his own time. It had led him to find one of those little geodes, and he placed it in front of the King, right on his desk.
“The jewels he wears reminded me of ones I have seen before,” Dante commented, and this was a part of the fabricated story, a part he had to learn from research, but also from his deductions. Minke also had the crystals on her, and she had been with Drake beforehand. Drake was known for his treatment of those within the magic community. “I’m sure you are familiar with King Drake and his usage of them within Taluhtah.”
“How would you even suspect something like that?” the King questioned, looking at the geode with guarded eyes, trying his best to keep on a poker face, as if they both didn’t already know the truth.
“I was assigned, by you, to watch your son for years now,” Dante commented, deadpan at that moment, “I was dedicated to doing what I was tasked to do, and I spent enough time around him to notice how eerily familiar they are to other ones I’ve seen.”
Like Minke’s, but he couldn’t mention her. If he did, that opened a new can of worms. But the urge to yell at this man for locking a young girl, a teenager, in a dungeon as if she was a criminal was very hard to fight. But he couldn’t for many reasons. If he did, it’d reveal he knew much more than he was supposed to. It would cause questions to be asked, it would lead to more revelations. The whole thing could turn on its back.
“Well,” the King mentioned, trying to keep his face nonchalant despite how angry he obviously was, his lips downturned and that red anger on his face, on the scrunch of his eyes, “You can’t prove anything.”
That smug bastard. Even with this evidence he still acted so above Dante, like he was better than him.
“Oh but I can,” Dante commented, boldly continuing, “And if you don’t follow my requests and think about what is best for your son and your Kingdom, I will take the information I know to the council. I will tell everyone what you’ve hidden and what you’ve done.”
Dante really didn’t want to do that, it was more of an empty threat than anything. It was more of a threat to expose how the King had worked with criminals to get those jewels, maybe how he treated his son. But Dante wanted to do everything to avoid hurting Alex. Maybe he wouldn’t have cared, months ago when he and the Prince were at odds. Now, however, he saw the Prince as a rival, perhaps, but a friend. Perhaps even more, though he refused to let his mind tread that direction. They fought from time to time, but they had a deep understanding of each other.
Dante cared about the prince and his well-being, and he liked to believe the same was held towards him. He felt bad, even, for going against Alex’s wishes by even talking to his father. Alex had asked him not to do this, but eventually agreed. Alex had told him to stay out of it, had demanded it, but Dante had argued and the Prince had eventually, reluctantly agreed. Dante had to do this, and maybe a deep part of Alex understood that. That Dante had made Athena stay, and part of this was his fault. Additionally, Dante couldn’t imagine Alex having to marry someone like this. Someone who didn’t want to marry, even if it was part of the whole being a Prince thing. If what he insinuated at the Ball was true, his interests would never be in marrying a woman at all.
“What I’ve done?” King Chadwick replied with a bit of a demeaning chuckle in his voice, angling a very accusatory look at Dante, “I am not the disgrace who was cursed with abilities like a vermin.”
Dante lost a bit of his cool at that, at hearing this cruel man speak that way about his own son, about Alex, “Don’t you dare refer to him as if he is a curse!” helashed out, surprised by his own outburst as his hand came down on the table again, creating a loud thump as his fist landed on the wood, and he knew his eyes were full of fury too now. There was a tension in the air that you could likely cut with a knife, “Your son hasn’t done anything wrong. It wasn’t his choice to have the abilities he has, and even with them, they don’t change who he is.”
Whatever respect this King may have had left for Dante, it was funneling out so quickly Dante could see it by the condescending look the man was gaining, “Are you telling me you condone his abilities? Him?”
Dante hadn’t when he first heard. Heck, he couldn’t deny the small amount of fear he felt those first few weeks after he’d learned. The wariness he felt. The words of his own parents and people he’d met who had always warned that someone with abilities could hurt you whenever they wanted. That you could easily be killed or twisted to their demands if they so wished.
Maybe that was true, but Alex hadn’t ever purposely hurt anyone. Any person he may have ever hurt was likely out of fear. Society wasn’t accepting of those with abilities, and Dante knew if he had an ability like that, he’d be terrified.
“As I said, they don’t change who he is, they’re part of him,” Dante commented, and he never planned to admit this. He planned to simply threaten and leave it. A part of his mind was reminding him that he was going off base, he was revealing too much.
Chadwick’s lips curled in disgust, “They make him dangerous, you don’t know who he’s hurt with them. What I did was for the protection of the people who have to be stuck around that boy, people like you.”
Dante clenched his fists, glaring at the man before him, “You want to know whose dangerous?” he questioned, lifting his hand to jab it towards the King, pointing it straight into the other man’s chest, glaring up at him. “It’s you. Not him. You are the one who hurt your own son in an attempt to control him. You continue to do so time and time again. But he never fights back, he just bears it and does whatever you say because he has no choice. He hasn’t ever purposely hurt anyone, and he sure as hell hasn’t ever hurt me.”
He took a deep breath after his words, barely able to hear his own puffs of breath over the heartbeat he could hear thundering in his ears. He felt adrenaline buzzing through his body, and he was sure that it was the one reason he was still breathing, still here talking to a King of all things like this.
He was thrown off by the King laughing, laughing of all things in that disbelieving chuckle, and suddenly the King’s ignorant gaze felt like it was looking through Dante. He subconsciously took a step back, heart rate spiking just a bit more. “You have no intention of telling anyone anything about any of this,” he commented, and Dante had truthfully hoped he wouldn’t realize that, wouldn’t point it out, “You care too much about that brat to do anything more than say big tough words in hopes I’ll cave.”
Dante froze, mouth falling open, “Whatever do you mean?” He tried to keep bravado in his voice.
“Oh, not much,” The King said, dismissively, amused, “Just that I had been right in my assumption.”
Dante was losing this, he’d said too much to Alex’s defense, he’d fallen right into that trap, and it was going to all be for naught. He shook his head, “Which one, your honor? You make so many false ones it’s hard to keep count.”
The King flashed him a cold glare, but had a mean little smile to his lips that burned Dante’s insides in fury. “My son’s affliction and your involvement.”
Dante paled, but shook his head, “I can assure you that I have no such involvement,” He commented, aghast at the accusation, “You’re son was born the way he is, powers, feelings, all of it. That’s who he is, sire. I can’t change that. You can’t change that.”
He expected Chadwick to yell at him again, but the King quirked his lips cruelly. It’s as if he was scanning prey rather than an Advisor he’d worked with for years.
“Silly boy,” Chadwick commented, “Anything can be changed with enough pressure.”
Dante went to argue, but Chadwick but a hand up, “And I wasn’t blaming you for my son’s…affliction. I was just making an observation about you.”
Dante froze, feeling as if he was standing before his own father, talking down on him again. Insisting he marry, that he was confused. Being called out like that was chilling. He backed up a half step, looking down. He couldn’t say anything to that, because Chadwick wasn’t wrong.
Dante was gay.
“You wouldn’t say anything to endanger my son,” Chadwick cooed, mockingly, “You care for him, like the disgusting, pitiful little lowlife you are. I’d almost say that’s a perfect match if it wasn’t so disgusting.”
Dante felt each word like a knife, he was making things worse. For himself, for Alex, for Athena. He had to say something else, something to truthfully scare the man into submission. His mind was going so fast, and he stood there for several moments thinking.
“What if I told them how you treated him?” Dante questioned, his eyes returning back to the King who looked smug as if he’d already won this whole argument, “How you hurt your own son to keep him in line?”
“I’d tell them the truth of who he is,” King Chadwick replied, seeming intrigued yet annoyed by this new topic of conversation. He didn’t even look remorseful.
“You wouldn’t,” Dante pointed out, “You may not care about him, but you know if it gets out that you knew this whole time, you’d be just as guilty. Your own Kingdom would lose trust in you, they’d turn on you. That’s why you’re marrying him to a Lady instead of a Princess, that’s why you’re pawning him off the first chance you get. So you can play naive if it ever comes out. So you can play naive if they were to bore a child with abilities, and you could claim that it came from Athena rather than Alex. You may not care about Prince Alexiares, but you do care about yourself.”
“I could tell them enough to fool them,” Chadwick commented, brave in his answer, his attention already waning.
“Maybe you could. Maybe they wouldn’t care that you hit one of your own children, maybe they’d be too afraid to care,” He wasn’t even thinking anymore, he was just speaking. “But how’d they felt about the fact that you let a Telekine into your kingdom and that she got out? That you knew about it, but never did anything about it?”
He didn’t even realize what he said at first, but the King’s gaze on him made him freeze. He couldn’t even breathe for a moment.
He said too much. He said way too much.
His knowledge about the Telekine, in general, would be fine, he could excuse that with King Drake and that whole conversation. But mentioning that she got out? That she escaped?
Dante wasn’t supposed to know about that, no one but a select few was supposed to know about that. Dante wasn’t one of them.
The King looked as if he was on the brink of a realization, he finally moved away from his desk, stepping around it towards a frozen Dante, standing over him, in a looming figure.
“How would you know about that?” he questioned, and if Dante thought the rest of this confrontation was terrifying, he didn’t even know what terror was. The King’s voice went so cold and dark and threatening that Dante actually gulped at it. “Who else knows? Alexiares? Lady Frost?”
“I-” Dante commented, wanting out of this situation as quickly as possible, directing his gaze to the ground, “no, it’s-” lie, lie, he had to lie, “it’s just me.”
He had to prove it, he had to protect them, he couldn’t let the King know that they knew. He couldn’t have the King hurt them or suspect them.
“How did you know about that, Thorsten?” the King asked again.
Dante winced at how cruel his name sounded in the man’s voice, and took a deep breath, preparing to answer.
“King Drake had told me about her,” Dante commented, still looking down, “I became curious about whether we really did have a Telekine in the Kingdom, so I went to check.”
He was shaking. He could see it in his fingers, wrapped into the strap of his satchel. He noticed the way his knuckles were white, but he continued, “I hadn’t expected a scary criminal such as herself to be so tiny or young,” he commented, feeling his gaze harden with his anger, “Or scared. Was Alex like that, when you hurt him?”
Dante looked up, and he didn’t expect the hit that came. The King had picked up a cane leaning against his desk and had swiftly used it to smack the Advisor clean across the face. Dante himself backed up, head flying to the side slightly and trying to put distance between himself the the royal. The King didn’t even look bothered by this, stepping closer to Dante again, grabbing him harshly by the lapels to pull him forward, “That was the day she went missing.”
The accusation there was unspoken but obvious. Dante had seen her that day, he even admitted it, and it was the day she went missing.
His cheek was stinging, he could feel a bruise already forming right under his eye, probably around it, and his heart was beating like a hummingbird in his chest, struggling to free itself, and it felt like he couldn’t breathe.
“I know,” Dante said, his gaze locked right on the king as he slipped his hand into his satchel, securing his hand around the key he had kept hidden all this time. He slowly brought it out, his hand clasped around it so tight he feared it would bleed, and he watched the King’s gaze focus on the key, realization sparking his eyes, “I’m the one who set her free.”
Not a moment after he said those words was he thrown back, his feet stumbling for solid purchase as he crashed into the wall of the King’s office. He heard ruckus as something on the wall fell, likely some decor the King had put up. His back was now stinging as well, and his leg felt like jelly, unable to hold him up. He ended up slumping down to the ground, the panic settling in.
He glared up still though, at the man with murderous intent, holding the key up to show it off, “I heard from King Drake, and you’d never mentioned anything like that. I didn’t see any records of it. So I checked the dungeons to double-check his claims, and I found her. I found a kid who was locked up like an animal. I spoke to her, and I learned about what ignorant and selfish Kings like yourself and King Drake are capable of. How you will hurt anyone to get what you want.”
He stopped to take a breath, still glaring at the King. The King cruelly walked closer, and Dante shrunk back against the wall, tugging the key close to his chest as the King raised the cane again. Dante could see the cruel glint in his eyes, and as he scrambled back, the hit came. A blinding, agonizing pain, hitting his side, he could feel ribs crack in protest and fell to the side, coughing as he scrambled away from the man.
Glaring up at the man as he cradled his side and the key, he raised his head defiantly. “How do you think everyone will feel about the fact that you had a Telekine in your dungeons the whole time? That you knew she escaped, and yet you never notified your council about it?” His words were winded, broken apart by waved of agony, but said with such an anger.
The King was silent, not uttering a word, but he was approaching again, and that terrified Dante quite a bit.
“I will notify them about that if you don’t call off the wedding.” Dante said, only adding fuel to the flame, but unable to regret it. Better him than Alex or Athena or Minke. So he raised his head and forced himself into sitting up, “If you do not leave both Athena Frost and Alex Kinnaird alone, I will tell them all about that dirty little secret,” Dante commented, forcing a cunning smile on his face despite the situation, “And everyone will know your mistakes. How you didn’t trust your own council, advisors, or your own family. You worked with a King from another Kingdom and still yet lost a ‘dangerous’ criminal.”
The King looked as if he was contemplating, finally coming to a stop in front of Dante as he leaned down. He was considering the words, Dante could see it. Despite himself, he felt a bloom of hope blossom in his chest. The King realized this whole business wasn’t worth some silly wedding then, after all.
Reach out and grabbing Dante’s jaw, thumb resting over the bruising cheek, pressing into it and raising his head, the King spoke. “They won’t know any of that,” he said, voice dangerously passive yet decisive, “You’ll be dead before you can say it.”
At that sentencing, his head was dropped, the King grabbed Dante’s wrist which had the key. The same hand cradled against his aching side. Forcefully tugging him to his feet and yanking after him as he stormed to the door, throwing Dante out of the room and raising his voice to call for guards.
Dante landed roughly, body falling into the wall opposite of the King’s office. He glanced up at the man, eyes horrified, and the King looked back coldly. No warmth, no guilt, no remorse.
Dante yelped as he was grabbed by the guards on duty, trying to tug away, though dread had set in, his blood running cold.
As the guards came, grabbing him to lead him to the dungeons to await his fate, he raised his voice at the King again, one final attempt, “Do what you want to me!” he screamed out, gaining the King’s attention again, even as the guards dragged him back, “But you have no idea who you’re truly messing with.”
The King’s eyes widened. Dante could make him think he was in cohorts with Minke, maybe, especially since he was the one to have freed her. But the King didn’t need to know if she’d get involved or not. He didn’t need to know anymore. Indeed, Dante wasn’t even talking about Minke. He was speaking about the bride.
Even the mention of mysterious person had people in the hall that saw the seen buzzing with questions, and as he was dragged out of view, he could see the hesitance on the King’s face as he watched the people begin to talk.
That would have to be enough.
He just hoped Alex and Athena could find happiness after all.