When dawn finally bled across the sky, the palace servants began their usual morning bustle—until one shrill voice cut through the corridors.
The maid assigned to Riven burst into the queen's receiving chamber, breathless and pale.
"Y-Your Majesty—!"
The queen, already seated at her vanity while the maids fixed her hair for the funeral rites, lifted her gaze sharply. "Speak."
"M-My Queen… the guards outside the young master's chamber… they… all four were found unconscious." The maid trembled, clasping her hands like they might steady her. "A-And the young master is… missing."
The room stilled.
The queen rose from her seat so abruptly that her attendants backed away. "Missing?" Her voice iced over. "You incompetent girl—what were you doing?!"
The maid fell to her knees. "Your Majesty, I swear—when the child had settled and fallen asleep, I believed it safe to leave for the night—"
A sharp crack echoed as the queen's hand struck her cheek.
"Tch," the queen clicked her tongue, anger flickering in her eyes. But beneath the fury, something else stirred—an instinct she didn't want to acknowledge. She turned slowly toward the window, staring out as if the morning light itself hinted at the truth she dreaded.
"…Could it be…?"
The nearest attendant hesitated. "Your Majesty?"
"Check if Caelum is awake," the queen ordered, her voice tight.
The attendant blinked. "Prince Caelum…? May I ask why you suspect him first, Your Majesty?"
"Because," the queen answered, each word deepening her scowl, "I have a feeling Caelum is involved. I only pray I'm mistaken."
The attendants scattered to obey.
Moments later, one sprinted back in gasping breaths.
"Your Majesty! Prince Caelum is not in his room—nor is his aide. Both are gone!"
The queen's jaw clenched, her nails curling into her palm. She had been preparing herself to face the nobles and citizens, to stand as the grieving mother—but this new chaos clawed at her already frayed composure.
"C. A. E. L. U. M."
Her voice was low, dangerous.
A maid stepped forward timidly. "Your Majesty… what shall we say to the nobility? His absence will not go unnoticed, especially now that many have begun supporting him after recent events…"
"There is nothing to worry about," the queen snapped, gathering her cloak as attendants resumed their frantic preparations. "It has been nearly four days since the incident. Caelum's manifestation as an omega draws near. The suppressant he used on himself won't last. He has no choice but to return."
The maid blinked. "Then… the real concern is—"
"The missing child," the queen finished. "Prepare a search party. Send men to track Caelum and everyone with him. Immediately."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
__________________________________________
Here is the **fully rewritten 800+ word scene**, polished, coherent, dramatic, and matching the tone of your story.
I kept **Caelum sharp-witted but reckless**, the queen **cold and calculating**, and the tension building as they approach the north.
I also incorporated **Darius, Lucien's territory, and Alaric hiding there**.
---
Far from the palace, beneath the gray stretch of an overcast sky, Caelum tightened his cloak as the cold northern wind bit at his cheeks. Their horses trotted along the mountain path, snow gathering lightly in their manes.
Behind him, his aide sneezed for the third time.
"This is insanity," the aide complained loudly, clutching his hood closer. "Absolute insanity. My prince, we're going to the northern territory—in this weather! And Alaric is there! Alaric! And Duke Lucien! They'll kill us the moment we step foot anywhere close to—agh—my nose is freezing!"
"Shut up, Eiran," Caelum muttered.
Havel threw his hands up. "Shut up? Prince, I'm trying to make sure you DON'T get murdered in some snow-covered ditch! You dragged me into this because you were 'concerned about the child,' and suddenly we're marching straight into the most politically dangerous territory in the kingdom—"
"Shut. Up."
"But—!"
Caelum reined his horse to a stop and shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel.He then shifted the small bundle in his arms, adjusting the cloak covering the feverish child sleeping against his chest.
"They won't kill us," Caelum said firmly. "Not while Darius is with us."
Eiran glanced at the knight riding ahead—a tall man wrapped in thick furs, face half-hidden beneath a hood. Darius, Alaric's most trusted knight, didn't look back, but his posture was straight, steady, confident.
"Darius can protect us," Caelum added.
"He can protect you," Eiran grumbled. "I'm fragile."
Caelum rolled his eyes and continued riding. "And delivering the child isn't the only reason I came. I want to negotiate."
Eiran stared at him as if he had lost all remaining sanity.
"…Negotiate," he repeated, voice flat. "With them. With the First Prince and your cousin ,the northern duke you insulted three months ago."
"It was a misunderstanding," Caelum said coolly.
"You called Duke Lucien a 'sly snow fox with a superiority complex.'"
"He is one."
Eiran groaned into his gloves. "We're all going to die."
---
By the time they reached the border markers, the wind had turned sharp, slicing through their cloaks. The mountains loomed above them like sleeping giants dusted in white.
Darius raised a hand, signaling them to slow.
"We're close," he said quietly. His voice was deep, steady—comforting, in a way.
Caelum inhaled sharply, letting the cold air burn his lungs. "Good."
But just as he nudged his horse forward—
Darius froze.
Caelum followed his gaze.
Through the swirling snow, dark silhouettes emerged—silent, still, waiting for them at the end of the path.
Eiran's voice trembled. "Who… who are those—"
The wind shifted, revealing the gleam of armor beneath fur-lined cloaks. Men of the North.Lucien's elite.