The queen did not waste a single breath.
"Seal the palace," she commanded, rising from her throne. "Every gate. Every corridor. I want the guards prepared—here, and only here."
The nobles and officials exchanged glances.
"You believe the first prince will attack the city?" one asked cautiously.
"No," the queen replied coolly. "I know Alaric. He will not involve the citizens. He will come straight for the palace—straight for me."
That certainty settled heavy in the hall.
From the opposite side, voices rose—members of the king's old faction, and those who had once supported Alaric.
"Your Majesty, this has gone far enough," one noble pleaded. "Call this off. Before blood is spilled."
The queen laughed softly. "Blood was spilled the moment Alaric murdered the king."
A ripple of unrest passed through the chamber.
"That accusation has never been proven," another said sharply.
"Nor is it unprecedented," a third added. "History remembers many princes who slew kings and seized thrones."
The queen's eyes narrowed. "And that is precisely why," she said coldly, "when Alaric arrives, I will capture him alive—along with every supporter and every accomplice."
She leaned forward, voice ringing clear.
"He will be executed publicly. Before the citizens. Let them see what happens to traitors."
"You are wise indeed, Your Majesty," her loyal faction echoed.
"The neutral nobles observed in silence."
---
Alaric did not hide.
He rode through the capital openly, cloak bearing no sigil, expression unflinching. Lucien rode at his side, posture relaxed, eyes sharp with calculation. Behind them marched knights from the North and those loyal to Alaric—outnumbered, but unafraid.
Citizens whispered as they passed.
"Is that…?"
"The first prince…"
"He came back?"
Some bowed. Others watched in fearful silence.
By the time they reached the palace gates, steel awaited them.
"Stand down," one of Alaric's knights called. "This does not need to end in bloodshed."
Some guards hesitated. Swords lowered.
Others—wearing the queen's colors—charged.
The clash was brief but brutal.
Alaric did not strike first—but when forced, he struck decisively.
Blood stained marble.
By the time they reached the court hall, the echoes of steel still rang faintly behind them.
---
The doors swung open.
Gasps rippled through the assembled nobles.
"I can't believe he dares show his face—"
"And Duke Lucien—he sides with him?"
"Have they gone mad?"
Yet relief flickered across other faces.
Alaric and Lucien advanced until they stood before the throne, surrounded on all sides by guards.
The queen reclined upon her seat, fingers tapping the armrest.
"My, my," she said lightly. "How brave of you, First Prince. Marching into my palace so openly."
She smiled thinly. "Shouldn't you be hiding? After killing the king?"
Alaric's voice was steady. "Shouldn't you be afraid," he replied, "of accusing me without proof?"
"Enough," the queen snapped. "Do you truly believe I would allow you to enter without preparing?"
"I would be disappointed if you hadn't," Alaric said calmly. "But do you truly believe I would march here without evidence to clear my name—and expose your crimes?"
Her fingers stilled.
"Enough!" she shouted, rising. "Guards—seize them!"
Steel flashed.
Before the guards could move, Lucien stepped forward and raised his hand.
In it gleamed a familiar seal.
Prince Caelum's.
A sharp intake of breath rippled through the hall.
The guards bearing Caelum's crest froze.
Slowly—one by one—they lowered their swords and turned, blades pointing instead toward the queen's men.
Whispers exploded.
"How could this be—?"
"Prince Caelum sided with them?"
"Why would he—?"
The queen's composure cracked. "That seal was stolen!" she snapped. "There is no chance Caelum would willingly—"
"Silence," a voice thundered.
All heads turned.
Duke Valerius of the east , a powerful noble of the neutral faction, stepped forward, his eyes hard.
"Your Majesty, enough blood has been spilled. Let us hear what they have to say."
The queen's eyes burned. "Are you defying me?"
"I am reminding you," he replied coldly, "that the court still holds authority."
Alaric stepped forward.
"Then listen."
---
He spoke calmly, relentlessly.
First—his illness. Witnesses. Physicians. Records of the queen's interference with suppressants.
Next—," he said, "my so-called crime."
He gestured, and one of his knights produced sealed documents. A physician was brought forth—an old man, trembling but resolute.
"This man," Alaric continued, "examined the king's final medicine."
The physician bowed. "The concoction given to His Majesty that day was laced with a slow-acting toxin. Not fatal at first—meant to mimic illness. The dosage was altered later."
Gasps echoed.
"And who altered it?" Alaric asked.
The physician raised his head. "The queen consort's personal attendant. On her direct order."
The queen laughed sharply. "Absurd! Anyone can be bribed to lie."
"Then perhaps," Lucien added smoothly, "you will explain this."
Another document. Another seal.
"Correspondence," Lucien said, "between Her Majesty and an apothecary from the southern kingdom. Specializing in poisons and toxins."
The queen's face paled.
Each piece struck like a hammer.
The hall grew colder with every word.
The queen's face drained of color.
"No—" she whispered. "You fabricated this."
Alaric met her gaze. "You killed the king."
Silence fell.
Something inside the queen snapped.
"You think this ends me?" she screamed. "I am your Queen!"
She raised her hand.
Guards surged—
—but stopped.
Surrounded. Outnumbered.
The throne room, once hers, now stood against her.
Her life collapsed in a single breath.
---