SCREW THE THRONE
The dining room of House Astarot was a sight to behold.
The long table stretched out, adorned with golden candelabras and fine linen, reflecting the opulence of the dragon family that sat around it.
Maids and butlers moved gracefully, serving dishes filled with delicacies fit for kings and queens.
The morning sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the marble floors.
Silence enveloped the room as the family members took their seats, anticipation hanging in the air like a heavy mist.
Valtor, the patriarch of House Astarot, broke the silence with a question that made Diaval almost choke on his food.
"Diaval, what does it feel like to be the heir to House Astarot?"
The question hung in the air like a heavy weight, and Diaval's mind raced as he processed the implications.
His character in the story was the first-born son of Valtor, the Dragon King.
His eyes met Adrian's, and a flood of memories rushed back—Diaval being killed in the early chapters, betrayed by a jealous brother consumed by rage and envy.
No wonder he couldn't remember his name; his fate was sealed from the beginning.
Adrian, driven by jealousy, had killed him in a dungeon raid and blamed humans for it.
This act had unleashed a demonic rage within Valtor, leading to a genocide that would be remembered in history.
In time, Adrian resorted to a devious act—he poisoned his own father. With each passing day, the venom seeped into Valtor's veins, causing his dragon core to wither.
Adrian's treachery knew no bounds as he coveted the throne for himself.
In light of such dark deeds, answering his father's question demanded careful consideration, for it held the power to alter the very fabric of fate.
As Diaval stared at his family, he realized the weight of his answer.
Could he alter the course of events? Could he defy the destiny written by the author?
"Is it possible to change the already written story?" Diaval thought, his heart pounding in his chest.
"What if I am just destined to die?"
But he couldn't accept that fate. He wanted a peaceful life, not the madness that awaited him in the novel.
"Forgive me, Author... but I have to do it," Diaval whispered to himself before answering his father and the eager eyes that were on him.
"Me, become the heir and next Dragon King to House Astarot?" Diaval's voice was firm, his eyes reflecting determination.
"You've got to be kidding..."
"Fuck that, I want to lead a slow life, travel the continents, meet exciting people, eat the finest cuisines and bed the most beautiful women..."
"Oh, my..."His mother seemed to jolt a bit from her chair after hearing the part about bedding the most beautiful women.
And so did Mira whose cheeks were turning a bright red, her ears twitching as she avoided eye contact with Lady Jade.
"That's what I want!" Diaval concluded, his words shocking everyone in the room, even Adrian himself.
"Such matters should not be joked with," Adrian banged the table, his anger simmering beneath the surface as he got up.
"Sit down, Adrien," Valtor signaled, his voice calm but firm.
"But father...."
Adrian reluctantly took his seat, but his eyes burned with resentment.
Valtor turned his attention back to Diaval.
"If you're serious about this decision, then it's yours to make. I can't force it on you.
But remember, if you refuse, the role will fall to the next child after you."
"Yes, Father, I understand...but my answer still remains the same," Diaval responded with a prideful tone, though inwardly he was drenched in sweat, fearing his father's potential wrath.
To his surprise, however, Valtor remained calm and composed amidst the tension.
Across the table, Adrian shook his head with closed eyes, busying himself with bacon.
Diaval observed his brother's actions with a mixture of contempt and understanding.
'Act all you want, you hypocrite but I know you're happy and screaming with joy.'Diaval thought.
Meanwhile, Valtor turned his attention to his other sons, eager to hear about their endeavors.
"Lukan, Cedric," he said, addressing his third and fourth sons respectively, "Tell me of your recent exploits."
Lukan, a commanding figure with a stern demeanor, spoke first.
"Father, I have been overseeing the defense forces in the eastern provinces. We've had skirmishes with rogue clans, but our borders remain secure."
Valtor nodded approvingly, pride evident in his eyes.
"Good work, Lukan. Your dedication to protecting our lands does us proud."
Cedric, the youngest of Valtor's sons but no less accomplished, cleared his throat before speaking.
"Father, I have been delving deeper into the arcane arts. My latest research has uncovered ancient spells thought lost to time."
Valtor's eyes gleamed with interest.
"Ah, Cedric, your talent for magic knows no bounds. Continue to explore the mysteries of the arcane; your discoveries may yet shape the future of our kind."
As the family dined on sumptuous fare, each son shared tales of their triumphs and challenges.
Diaval's mind whirled with thoughts of destiny and choice, his fork pausing mid-air as he contemplated the path before him.
As they continued their meal, Diaval couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.
He had altered the course of events, changing the destiny of his family and the world.
And as he looked around at his brothers, each with their own paths to greatness, he knew that he had made the right choice.
"I may have discarded my role and a way towards absolute power," Diaval thought, "but at least I changed the story. The world won't face chaos, father won't die, and most importantly, I won't have to die such a miserable death... It's a win-win."
///NEXT CHAPTER: A DOTTING MOTHER