"YOU ARE A CURSE THAT KILLED HER!!"

The Lord of Rosemane's steps paused his chest heaving like a raging bull. His anger intensified, his eyes blazing with fury. He walked back and while towering over Selena with an intimidating stance he roared, "YOU LIAR!! YOU ARE A CURSE THAT KILLED HER!!"

Selena realised that this could be her way out. Death was death either way even if it was at the hands of her father.

"Wha...what did you bu-bury her.... in? A... blue lace dress with... intricate blue patterns?"

His body trembled, and a chill ran down his spine. How could she know such a closely guarded detail? When his wife died he picked that dress for her and there was no open casket for the funeral because he wanted to be the only one to see her one last time. In his circle, no more than five people knew so how could Selena know? He concluded that it had to be that he had a spy among his trusted subjects.

His heart pounded in his chest, and his fists clenched tightly. The rage within him intensified, consuming every other emotion. With a furious resolve, the Lord of Rosemane lunged forward, his hands closing tightly around Selena's throat.

The air grew heavy with tension and fear as the king's grip tightened, his face distorted by a twisted mixture of rage and sorrow. She gasped for breath, her eyes bulging but there were serene and calm like this was what she wanted. It seemed as though her father's rage had driven him to the brink of madness.

His subject's loyalty to their king outweighed their fear, and they could not bear to witness him killing his own seed with his hand. They rushed forward, pulling him away from Selena, their combined strength overpowering his weakened state.

As he was restrained, his chest heaving with exertion, he looked into the eyes of his daughter he had nearly killed. To his astonishment, she was not cowering in fear or begging for mercy. Instead, her laughter filled the room, a haunting, almost mocking sound.

His brows furrowed unable to make anything of this situation. With the flick of his sleeve, he turned to leave and the devastated Selena's haunting laughter continued but she was also crying.

The matron kept giving out orders and sometimes spoke to her but it was like a distant murmur to Selena. The realisation that her life was over just dawned on her. She was going to be used to replace her sister in a marriage with a heartless man.

"Now we just need to change the hair colour... wrap her neck with a white cloth.... no no no you need to make it look like a part of the wedding attire... Put more make-up on her... Don't forget to make her drink the medicine... The dress won't fit, it's too big for her... open your mouth princess. From now on you are Princess Sienna the Cayaline flower of Rosemane."

***

With a stoic expression betraying no emotion, the Dark hearted King of Lowoak reined in his steed atop the mist-shrouded hills that overlooked Rosemane Palace.

The morning sun struggled to penetrate the heavy clouds, casting an eerie pallor over the scene below. Behind him, a formidable army of men dressed in gleaming armour stood at attention, their presence a chilling reminder of the King's power.

Beside him, his mother, Queen Mother Ava, rode gracefully on her horse, her regal presence commanding respect. The wind whispered through the towering pines, carrying with it the weight of anticipation.

The carts laden with lavish wedding gifts lined up behind the entourage, a testament to the wealth and influence of the Lowoak dynasty.

Yet, despite the grandeur of the occasion, King Liam remained cold and indifferent. His heart, shrouded in darkness, seemed untouched by the joyous celebration that awaited him. The impending union with the Princess of Rosemane was merely a necessity that his mother believed would save him from the darkness enveloping his heart and soul.

As he gazed down upon the sprawling Rosemane Palace, its graceful spires reaching towards the heavens, he couldn't help but feel a sense of detachment. The grandeur and beauty that surrounded him were like distant echoes, fading into the recesses of his soul.

"What if they refuse the marriage?" he asked his mother as a gust of wind stirred his obsidian-black cloak, billowing around him like the wings of a raven.

"They have no choice... the cayaline flower was stolen from our lands to save his daughter so it's a life for a life. They have to repay the debt," she said her knuckles turning white from holding the reins too tightly. When she found out the origins of the Cayaline flower and how it was a rarity special to Lowoak that only bloomed in a hundred years she was extremely livid.

The Lord of Rosemane refused to help her when her lands were torn by the Gorgons and their rivers running red from the blood of the dead yet snuck in during the chaos to steal from them. She wanted her son to cut them down like weeds but she knew that if she let that happen Princess Sienna might not help her son.

King Liam's piercing gaze swept across the landscape before he turned to his right-hand man with a scar running down his face called Conley and commanded, "Prepare for anything."

"Yes your Majesty," he said before pulling the reins and making the horse turn to face the army.

"REMAIN VIGILANT!! PROTECT HIS MAJESTIES!!!!"

They raised their spears high, their polished steel catching the glimmers of sunlight, and slammed them down onto their massive shields. A thunderous cacophony erupted, the sound echoing far beyond the hills. It was a symphony of raw power, the maelstrom of clashing metal and heart-pounding determination.

The ground quivered beneath their feet as their collective might unleashed a primal surge into the very earth itself. The vibrations pulsed through the air sending a message to the castle at the bottom of the hills.

And with that, the King of Lowoak spurred his steed forward, leading his army down the hills towards Rosemane Palace. The wedding gifts, symbols of wealth and power, followed in his wake. But as he descended his mind strayed back to the dream he had the previous night. For once it wasn't a nightmare but rather a weird distressing dream that pierced his soul.

He rode atop his majestic white steed with the infamous sword of Thanatos gleaming underneath the sunlight.

His heavily armoured army followed closely behind, their synchronized footsteps pounding against the cobblestone pathway leading to the grand entrance of the city surrounding Rosemane palace. The city guards averted their gazes as the king approached, their faces clouded with unease.

As they reached the towering gate, adorned with vibrant flowers and delicate streamers, a hushed silence fell over the crowd of onlookers.

The city was undeniably decorated for a celebration, yet the air lacked the expected spirit of excitement. Murmurs of discontent reverberated through the crowd, their disapproval palpable.