Alcina has always known that her most significant value is her disposability.
Alcina was born into the great House Clair. It is a famed and noble House known for its gifted bloodline. Is peerless in its long tradition robust and hallowed abilities.
But delinquent to that fame, Alcina was born with neither a gift nor any other outstanding virtue.
She had known, early on, that her primary function in this life was to be the spare.
Alfred, her older brother, who, even among their revered bloodline, stood out with his tremendous gift as the most powerful telepath to exist in historical records. He would be the heir, and Alcina, his much lacking spare.
These are the facts, as they have been decided long, long ago.
Alcina knows this.
Alcina knows she is a useless and powerless runt who could bring no prestige to the name of the House that values reputation over all other things.
She's known that the most fabulous lot she could hope for in this life would be to hopefully be married off in some negotiation or another.
If she's lucky, it will be an important one; in that way, the marriage may bring some favor to her House.
If she's unlucky, it will be to a wealthy but otherwise invaluable family. Which will not benefit her House other than the fact that she would no longer be their burden.
Her most significant value is being a bartering chip, which is not even a precious one.
So, in some ways, her current circumstances are a fortune beyond what she could have hoped for in life.
An alliance that her House of Clair desperately desires. It is an honor above any station in life she could have ordinarily achieved.
That being wed or to cast off, as her mind keeps whispering traitorously, to Lord Brendan, who is apparently the heir of the most powerful House Warner.
Alcina's parents, indeed, have never considered her with such appraising eyes as in the last three months of the negotiations.
But nevertheless, there is a part of her, a not insubstantial part that cannot help but reel in disbelief and horror, that her parents could have truly bartered her off to Lord Brendan, the Shadowed Beast.
Lord Brendan was "gifted" with the most horrifying, frightening - monstrous – power to ever obtain by anyone.
He who rules over the darkness, over the shadows, wraiths, and those nightmares of which human fears are made.
Lord Brendan, who had been cast out by his own House and kingdom as an abomination, who they say is the most terrifying existence in all the land.
Existence, they say 'not man' because no one has ever referred to him as a man.
Instead, he is someone who undoubtedly was birthed from the hideous and vile things of the world, for how else could he wield the dreadful as his birthright?
They say that Lord Brendan is the most reviled and feared presence to have ever been born and that even to meet his gaze is the equivalent of succumbing to a fate worse than death.
Since his birth, Lord Brendan of House Warner has become synonymous with those frightful specters children fear in the night.
And now, Alcina is to marry this man.
She has not been able to sleep, not a single restful night. Ever since she first learned of the news. She is considered as a bargaining chip from her family to obtain power and is cast-off to marry the world's most feared man as a husband.
She does not know, even now, which is worse: that her fate is to be wed to the man that is referred to as the black nightmare by his own people, or that her parents found Alcina so unlovable that they could so quickly cast her off into the monster's lair.
Alcina had known all her life that her parents found her a disgrace upon their House. That she, reprehensibly ordinary and ungifted as she is, was only ever destined to be cast off.
But the heart is a fragile and stupid thing, for a lifetime of knowing her parents found her worthless, had still not prepared her to face the stunning reality that they honestly did not care for her, even in the slightest.
That they could care so little for her, to willingly toss her to the Shadowed Beast. In their eyes, power is more valuable than their own daughter.
At the least, she still has her two brothers - Alfred, her older brother by blood, and Nordin, her brother's intended.
Nordin hails from the wealthiest noble House in nearly all of The Ethereal Isles, whose family coffers alone could fund a third of the war. Nordin had been Alfred's closest confidante all throughout their youth, and now, the two are betrothed, to be wed this coming spring.
Being a gay couple, they faced a lot of criticism. They overcame everything and convinced the family that they both were meant to be. But what worked in their favor is that Nordin is a powerful man who can bring prestige and power to the House of Clair.
So with a lot of argument and silent treatment, they finally accepted their love for each other. Now Alfred and Nordin are the most envied couple in the Heartlands.
Alcina had never allowed herself the idiocy to ever dream of being permitted a love like theirs.
One of her few virtues is her ability to understand reality for precisely the damnable bitch that it is.
And her reality is not the one that would ever afford her the circumstances of such a fairy tale.
Alcina had been raised as Alfred's empty spare, but for every bit that her parents did not care for her, Alfred and Nordin cared twice as much.
That is to say, Alcina may not have known the love of her birth parents, but she had grown up with all the parental love and affection she could ask for, given to her by the two men she regards as both her older brothers.
In direct contrast to her parents, Alfred and Nordin have been nearly violently opposed to the engagement.
For the first time in their lives, Alfred vehemently opposed their parents when they announced their decision to wed Alcina to a nightmarish brute.
Even after the engagement ultimately proceeded above his protests, he has since been working tirelessly for eight weeks to find a way to break the engagement.
Nordin, likewise, has been staying beside herself with outrage and grief, in turns.
Alcina could almost find Nordin's rapidly cycling mood swings funny, but she was also in a similar state of panic and terror.
Alfred will not inherit the Throne for several years more.
However, the unfortunate but blisteringly truthful reality is that he and Nordin, for all of their future political power, are currently no more than mere pieces on the chessboard for the Duke and Duchess of House Clair's control.
House Clair has ruled the Heartlands - one of the five territories that comprise the land of The Ethereal Isles - for over three hundred years.
They have been one of the most politically prominent and influential houses and closely aligned with House Walton for nearly all of that time.
This family had, for centuries, ruled over all of The Ethereal Isles as the holders of the Red Throne.
House Walton, however, has long had a genetic predisposition for mental instability, precipitated by their fervent efforts to keep their "blood pure" that worsened as time went on.
The last ruler - the "mad king" - suffered from a bout of insanity in his final years, eventually compelling him to set fire to his home, trapping his own family within.
The Mad Massacre, having occurred only two years ago, eliminated the entirety of the Walton bloodline; the Red Throne is, to this day, still empty, and the power vacuum continues to grow larger and larger.
In the south, House Johnson and House Albrecht have already allied themselves and made evident their intent to place one of their own on the Red Throne.
House Arison, whose mountain territory is practically impenetrable, and House Warner, who holds the most tremendous military force of all the houses, are long-standing allied houses.
The Heartlands is a prosperous territory, but it is the one that has seen the stirrings of internal turbulence in the last few years, as lower classes grow discontent with social inequalities.
House Clair, then, must come out on the winning side of the war, or else the risk is they will collapse altogether.
The war for the Red Throne will spare no bystanders, and House Clair must secure the alliance with the Arison and Warner Houses if they are to remain in firm control of their own territory.
Shaky political alliances will not do; the Arison and Warner Houses have already been close allies for generations.
And Lord Brendan and his father, the ruling Alpha of the pack from House Warner, old and weakening, is poised to assume control of his kingdom any day now, and therefore the individual with whom the alliance must be forged.
This marriage is the only binding strong enough to secure House Clair's stability in the alliance.
Alcina may have only ever been raised as the spare to be discarded, but she is no fool. She knows that there is no way out of this.
Alcina is sent to the Western Plains, the territory of House Warner, by herself. With a royal retinue, of course, and no less than ten carriages in which her attendants, belongings, and dowry are to be carried. Dowry - given that no one in this arrangement, neither the Clair's nor the Warner's, is unaware of the fact that House Clair needs the alliance more than House Warner. Her parents will not be traveling with her, of course. She came alone to this unfamiliar place filled with foreign people. Her heart shakes with fear but she has no other option. Neither Alfred nor Nordin could come, given that they are too tied up in matters at home, which they will be forced to oversee for another two weeks. Once settled, they plan to travel to the Western Plains immediately to join Alcina, but until then, Alcina is to navigate the beast’s lair alone. When Alcina boards the carriage, hands trembling, how silly, she’s a day’s ride away from
Brendon's point of View, The girl standing in front of him is not what Brendan had expected at all. He had known, from the day negotiations commenced, that his intended must be of the absolute dregs of humanity, for her own family to have been able to throw her to the monstrous creature that everyone says Brendan is. To have willingly, and so easily, offered up their own to the vile, wretched thing that Brendan is. Of course, that they’d traded anyone,castaway or not, to be wedded to the shadowed beast, speaks equal magnitudes about the people doing the giving, as it does the poor and unwanted soul who’s been given away. For a long time, Brendan had speculated about what kind of an undesirable and distasteful person it must be, for them to have been willing to sacrifice her to the beast that they think he is. And then, he’d heard that his intended was born without a gift of her own, that she is just like a
Alcina follows Brendan into the maze.Brendan cannot tell if it is foolishness or naivete that compels her to do so, given that anyone with half a brain would have notfollowed a man they compare to nightmares incarnate, into a labyrinth of which they know nothing about.It’s half the reason Breandan had headed in this direction, to begin with, having grown weary already of having to make pleasantries that he has no desire to make.He had hoped the girl would have enough of a sense of self-preservation, to run away when Brendan gave her the chance.Instead, the little lamb stumbles in after the lion into his den.Though his back is turned, Brendan can hear with perfect clarity, the soft footfalls that come to a petering, hesitant stop a few paces away from him. Too frightened to come any closer, then, he surmises.He spins on his heel.Alcina stumbles back a few steps, alarmed by the sudden movement.
The walk ends shortly after, spent primarily in the same stilted, awkward silence as the trip there.Brendan leads them to the east wing, where the royal families’ bedrooms are located, and now, Alcina’s.Alcina’s room is a spacious, lavishly-furnished room, of velvet drapes and wide windows, with a small but ornate chandelier glittering from the center of the ceiling, in essence, the same as the bedroom she’d just left behind.She can’t help the mild surprise, at how normalit all seems, how similar, to her own home.She knows it’s a ridiculous thought, but--She doesn’t know why or rather, she does, but she’s ashamed to admit it, but the truth is she’d been imagining something less... something less like home.Something that resembled the dark lair in which she’d be kept, imprisoned until the shadowed beast found a use for her.As Alcina stands
Alcina cannot help but lock the door that night. * * * * * * * * * * The next morning, Alcina is greeted first thing by Mary, a bright-eyed fourteen-year-old girl, who is to be her primary attendant from House Warner. She is young but endearingly eager in her youth and clearly skilled in her tasks. Alcina, for one, finds a small measure of relief in the fact that her personal attendant is such a courteous lass; she much prefers Mary’s ruddy-cheeked vivacity, to an older and somber one. “I am most honored to be serving you, my Lady,” Mary says. Alcina manages, despite the circumstances, to muster up a smile for her. She sits at the vanity while Mary gently brushes her hair, deft and nimble hands working quickly to arrange her locks into a presentable appearance. Alcina allows herself to be lulled into a moment of rest, as Mary’s babble - about the weather, and other such foolish things - provides a pleasant backgroun
Brendan is already waiting outside by the doors when Alcina and Mary reach the castle. As usual, he cuts an intimidating figure simply by standing, an utter stillness that’s almost unnatural and seemingly displaces him from the rest of his surroundings. His dark eyes lock with Alcina's from a distance, and Alcina has to, clench her jaw to fight the urge to look away. Aren’t young children taught not to look evil or bad things in the eye, for it will doubtlessly consume them whole? “Good afternoon, my Lord,” Alcina greets politely, dipping into a graceful and proper little bow. Brendan seems amused as he returns in kind, though far more muted than Alcina's own greeting. “I am to escort you to be introduced to the Captain Commander,” Brendan says instead of any further pleasantries. At Alcina's blank stare, Brendan adds, “He is the commander of the kingdom’s armed military forces, as well as the royal guards’ chief - and ther
Alcina's lips part in surprise. “The nomadic tribes, as it turns out, were more like a scattered - but numerous - group of companion settlements of horse-mounted warriors who were unnaturally skilled at the battle. In fact, many of our military’s leaders were killed in that conflict.” Brendan gazes off to the side, in Lincoln's direction. “Commander Lincoln, a low-ranking officer at the time, came into a leadership position of his own regiment.” “He won every single battle.” Alcina's gaze, wide-eyed and disbelieving, joins Brendan's on Lincoln's figure where he stands at the head of the training. “At eighteen, he managed to single-handedly turn the tides of a losing battle. Every brawl, every charge he led his regiment into, he emerged victoriously.” Brendan's lips twist into an amused little curve, as they come to a slow stop just a few feet behind Lincoln. “Lincoln is not known to possess a Gift, no.” Brendan's eyes fli
In the south, in a castle fortress that towers atop a rocky terrace, three men commence the planning of the war.“So House Clair has chosen to align itself with House Warner, then, with those animals” Duke Cedric drawls, a silken murmur. At the table’s head, he sits elegantly upon his chair, draped comfortably along one arm with his legs crossed.“It is more than I expected from them,” Lord Casper, Duke Cedric's younger brother, hums. “For a while, I rather surmised they’d attempt to refrain altogether and would have to be put down like the dogs they are once we’ve settled the dust.”Cedric's lips curve into a small, amused smile.For two men who’ve just learned that the last player on the board has chosen to join the other side, they are remarkably, unnaturally calm. To an observer, it may even appear that the members of House Albrecht seem almost pleasedat the outcome, as puzzling as it m
When Alcina manages to trudge her way to her room in the palace, she has hardly made it past the doorway when Brandon is instantly at her side.Brandon grips her by the shoulders, expression blank but eyes almost frantic in the way they run over her frame from head to toe, as though cataloging any possible injuries. And then, at last, Brandon lifts a hand to rest gently along Alcina’s cheek.Alcina shudders and sinks into it, sighing. “I half feared the Duchess may have buried you somewhere in the courtyard, and I would have to go digging for my wife,” Brandon drawls, teasing and insouciant but with genuine worry in his eyes when Alcina peers up at him.Alcina manages to muster a scowl, though she loses the energy for it right after.Drained, Alcina allows Brandon to help her change into her silken pajamas and guide her right to bed, where Alcina sinks gratefully into the pillows. “I really ought to shower,” Alcina murmurs uselessly, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “I’m quite disgust
The courtyard is a ruined wasteland.Everywhere the eye can see, the ground is shattered into nothing more than rubble, uneven and dusty and jagged with uneven footing.But there is one woman who maintains perfect balance, even as the ground shakes violently underneath her precarious red heels: the Duchess, hair flawlessly coifed with not a single strand out of place, even four hours into their training session.She lifts her chin, and a massive, tapered boulder, narrowed to a lethal point, separates itself from the ground.And then, it goes shooting forward, soaring through the air to hurtle towards the two figures hovering in the sky. Alcina sees it coming and grits her teeth as Orion dives sideways in a spinning tumble to avoid it.The Duchess straightens up.All of a sudden, the ground falls still.The silence that follows feels oddly deafening in Alcina’s ringing ears, after hours of its cacophonous din. She, too, straightens up, peering down at her mother in confusion. The Duc
“Survive.”It is all the warning Alcina gets before the ground erupts.That is the only word that can be used to describe the way the earth shifts and jagged little spears come hurtling upwards, all around her, tall enough to pierce Orion’s underbelly should she be standing over one.With an enraged shriek, Orion hurries to take to the air, and Alcina has to scramble to hold on as she frantically takes off.When she is airborne, and Orion has steadied herself with measured, powerful flaps of her great wings, the ground finally stops shaking.Again, she finds her mother standing effortlessly even amid the ruins she had created. “You were lucky, before.” When Alcina had recklessly charged into Elton’s stronghold alone, with nothing but an untrained dragon and a flimsy sword. “The soldiers then had been wholly unprepared for the sight of a dragon, and had been too stricken to react.”She lifts her hand once more. “But you will not be so lucky the next time. And you must be prepared, to f
Somewhere far, far below the grounds of the Western Plains, is an elaborate passageway of holding cells, built of heavy metal bars and lit only by the sparse torches.The dungeons, though no one quite likes to use the word.The dungeons have long been empty for years, having only been used once in recent times. And only briefly, too, given that the inhabitant had been quickly disposed of, once all the information had been extracted from his mind with Lord Alfred’s Gift.Today, the unused torches in the dungeons have been lit once more, for a new guest.It is a young woman, hardly older than twenty, her features lovely and delicate in violent contrast to the grimy holding cell she has been chained to. Everything about her seems like a sacrilege, here, in the dank walls of a dirty underground prison; as though she is something that does not belong in a place so dirty and murky.Even the color of her hair - pale pink locks, vibrant even in the darkness of the cell - stands at odds with t
Alcina watches wordlessly as the Gifted medic heals Brendan’s palm. She stares intently at the white glow emanating from the woman’s hand, as she hovers it over Brendan’s burned palm. Slowly, the reddish hue of the burn recedes, until Brendan’s palm has returned to its normal state.Alcina wishes she could have been born with a Gift like hers, something that would allow her to chase away the bruises and ailments and scars on Brendan’s skin; not something that would hurt him. Human nature, she realizes, is greedy beyond all belief. How many years had she yearned for a Gift, any Gift, she remembers wishing desperately in these very halls? And now that she has been graced with one, she yearns for something more, still.With a respectful bow, the healer excuses herself, leaving just the two of them in the otherwise empty room. Alcina doesn’t move from her perch, sitting ramrod straight in her chair. Stares at Brendan’s hand, every fiber of her being longing to reach out for it so that
Alcina sips dutifully at the glass of water Brendan had forced upon her, eyes doleful as she peeks up at him from underneath her lashes.Brendan stands over her, arms crossed, not unlike an ominous guard watching with keen eyes as if to ensure Alcina truly is drinking the water. They had hardly made it to the closest parlor room from the courtyard entrance when Brendan had promptly sat her down on a chair and ordered a terrified attendant to fetch a pitcher of water.Alcina sips obediently at her second glass now, shoulders slumped both in exhaustion and misery as she glances up at Brendan through her drenched bangs.“Why do you look as though someone has slaughtered your childhood pet?” Brendan demands.Alcina recognizes the terseness of Brendan’s awkward attempts at caring for someone, but cannot help the slight grimace all the same. “You were watching, weren’t you?” she says sullenly, mouthing at the rim of her cup. “I was terrible-”“You were not terrible,” Brendan begins to say,
Two hours in and Alcina is already exhausted.It is midday, now, and the sun beats harshly down on her back, thoroughly drenched with sweat. The wind whipping at her face and limbs from Orion’s movements as she darts through the air does little to cool her down, perspiration dotting her temples and her hair matted to her forehead and neck.Alcina can barely hold on to her sword as it is, while still maintaining her tenuous hold on one of Orion’s spikes to steady herself on her back.A pair of arrows whistle as they just barely miss her cheek, her hair whipping upwards from the projectiles spinning past her just a millimeter away from her skin. “Pay attention,” Percy says from the ground, where he stands, perfectly relaxed with his hands tucked into his pockets - not at all unlike the form he’d assumed, that day of the ruinous wedding.Darla, seated beside him still in her panther’s form, licks her lips in a manner that sends a shiver down Alcina’s back.She yelps, then, as Orion jerk
Back in the Western Plains, a Commander General continues his vigilant observance throughout the night, long after all the castle lights have been extinguished.Alone, he sits, eyes sharp as he assesses each unobtrusive corner of the room.It is none other than Lord Brendan’s own private study, a room that is locked and forbidden to all those aside from the lord himself, and his most trusted advisor: the General who has tasted only the sweetness of victory, each time he has stepped onto the battlefield.Lincoln tilts his head.And then, in a motion too quick for an ordinary man to catch, seizes the dagger laying innocently across the desk, and hurls it across the room.It sinks itself into its target.A gasped expletive fills the air.Lincoln picks up a second dagger, its blade gleaming under the single line of moonlight spilling in through the sliver in the curtains. This, in the next breath, he throws with lethal accuracy.“My, would you look at that,” he says cheerfully, brightly.
“No.”Alcina fumbles with the straps currently adorning Perseus’s broad back the contraption that, she claims, is meant to strap a person in. Brendan stares at it with an unmoving expression.Alcina pouts.Brendan remains firm. “You do realize,” he drawls. “That I am, technically, still in recovery, yes?”Alcina winces.“I don’t know about you, but I’m rather certain that falling hundreds of feet to my death is not what the healers advised for a speedy recovery-”Alcina whines at him. Stomps her foot, even, in a way that Brendan resolutely does not find at all endearing.“You won’t fall,” she says. “I have been practicing very hard this entire week, at flying with Perseus!”Brendan raises a solemn brow. “You mean to say that this is a newly acquired skill that you are attempting to pass off on me, then?”Alcina flushes. “Brendan,” she wheedles. Brendan briefly spares a moment of appreciation, anew, for the two older brothers who have raised this petulant little thing, all these years