Timeline: Few days after failed attack
Location: Journey to Nocterra → Inside Castle
QUEEN ISOLDE'S POV:
Lyra returns through the emergency portal empty-handed.
"They're all dead," she gasps. "His Majesty—the Dark King—he slaughtered them—"
Isolde's tea cup shatters in her hand.
"What?"
"Six trained soldiers. Dead in seconds." Lyra collapses into a chair. "I've never seen anything like it. The shadows—they were alive, Your Majesty—"
"And the boy?" Isolde demands.
"Protected. The Dark King didn't let us near him."
Isolde stands. Paces. Mind racing.
The direct approach failed.
The Dark King is more dangerous than she anticipated.
And now he knows she's after his consort.
She needs a new strategy.
Something that uses the Dark King's greatest weakness against him:
His love for the boy.
Isolde stops pacing. Smiles slowly.
"Lyra."
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
"Send word to King Ravion Blackcourt." Her smile widens. "Tell him Queen Isolde of Arventis requests a diplomatic visit."
"Your Majesty—after what just happened—"
"Exactly because of what just happened." Isolde returns to her throne. "I'm a concerned mother-in-law coming to check on my son's wellbeing. To ensure the Dark King is treating him properly." Her eyes gleam. "What kind of monster would refuse a mother's request?"
Understanding dawns on Lyra's face.
"You're going to infiltrate."
"I'm going to observe." Isolde corrects. "Learn their weaknesses. Gain their trust. And when the moment is right—" Her hand clenches. "—I'll take what's mine."
Three days later, Queen Isolde's carriage arrives at Castle Nocterra.
Diplomatic banners flying. Royal escort. The picture of peaceful intent.
The Dark King meets her at the gates.
He looks displeased.
"Queen Isolde." His voice is cold. "This is... unexpected."
"Your Majesty." She bows—just enough to be respectful, not enough to seem weak. "I apologize for the short notice. But when I heard about the assassination attempt on my son—" She lets her voice break slightly. Perfect. "—I had to come ensure he was safe."
Ravion's red eyes narrow. "Your son?"
"Kaelis, yes. My boy." She looks around as if confused. "Is he not here? I was told he married you."
There's a pause.
Long enough that Isolde notices.
"He's here," Ravion finally says. "Recovering from the poison your spy administered."
"My spy?" Isolde's expression shifts to perfect shock. "Your Majesty, I assure you, I have no idea what you're talking about. What poison? What spy?"
"A woman named Lyra. She confessed before escaping. Said she served you."
"Lyra?" Isolde's mind races. Perfect. "That traitor! I dismissed her months ago for stealing! She must have been seeking revenge by framing—" She stops. Puts a hand to her chest. "Gods. She tried to hurt my son? To make it look like I ordered it?"
She's a good actress.
Been practicing for twenty-two years.
Ravion doesn't look entirely convinced. But he has no proof.
"If what you say is true—"
"It is, Your Majesty." She meets his eyes. "I may have been harsh with Kaelis. May have tried to control his life. But I would never—" Her voice breaks again. "—I would never try to harm him."
Silence.
Then: "Come inside," Ravion says stiffly. "You can see him yourself."
"Thank you." She follows him through the gates. "I just want to apologize. To make things right."
Liar, she thinks. But she keeps her expression soft. Concerned.
The Dark King leads her to a sitting room.
"Wait here," he commands. "I'll bring him."
"Of course."
He leaves.
Isolde examines the room. Dark aesthetic. Expensive. Well-guarded.
And through the window, she can see the training yards.
Where soldiers drill. Preparing for war.
Against her.
She smiles.
Let them prepare.
She's not fighting a military battle.
She's fighting a psychological one.
The door opens.
The Dark King enters first. Protective. Then—
A young man follows.
Brown hair. Amber eyes. Pale from recent illness but recovering.
Dressed in royal clothing. Moving with careful grace.
He looks at her warily.
"Mother," he says. Voice neutral.
Isolde's mind races.
This is not Kaelis.
Same face—roughly. But different coloring. Different energy.
Kaelis had silver hair. Storm-grey eyes. Sharp features.
This boy is softer.
But she can't let them know she knows.
"Kaelis!" She rushes forward. Arms open. "Oh, my boy—"
The young man steps back. Behind the Dark King.
Protective gesture.
"I'm fine," he says carefully. "You didn't need to come."
"Of course I did!" She stops. Doesn't push. "When I heard about the attack—about the poisoning—" She lets tears form. Easy after years of practice. "I was terrified. I've been such a terrible mother. Trying to control you. Force you into marriage." She looks at the Dark King. "But I can see now that you're happy. That His Majesty cares for you."
The boy's expression softens. Slightly.
Good.
"I'm recovering," he says. "The antidote is working."
"Thank the gods." She dabs at her eyes. "May I... may I stay? Just a few days? To make sure you're truly alright?"
The boy looks at the Dark King.
Seeking permission. Or protection?
The Dark King's jaw tightens. But: "A few days. Then you leave."
"Of course. Thank you, Your Majesty."
Over the next three days, Isolde observes.
And what she sees is... unexpected.
The boy—"Kaelis"—is nothing like her actual son.
Real Kaelis:
Sarcastic, sharp-tongued,Rebellious, rude
Isolated, preferred being alone
Hated court functions, Fought authority at every turn, Childish tantrums when things didn't go his way
This boy:
Polite to everyone,Mature in his responses
Sits through council meetings without complaint,Speaks to servants with kindness
Handles disputes with diplomatic grace
Acts like an actual KING
She watches during a court session:
"Your Majesty," a noble complains to the Dark King. "The trade routes—"
"Are being handled," the boy—not-Kaelis—interrupts smoothly. "We've already sent additional guards. The roads will be safe within the week."
The Dark King looks at him. Something soft in his expression.
"As my consort said," Ravion confirms.
The noble bows. "Thank you, Your Majesties."
Plural.
They're ruling together.
Isolde's real son would never have bothered learning trade routes.
She watches during a dinner:
The boy talks to everyone. Asks servants about their families. Remembers names. Makes jokes that make people laugh.
Real Kaelis barely spoke at formal dinners.
This boy is charming.
Everything Kaelis wasn't.
And the Dark King.
Gods, the way he looks at the boy.
Like he's something precious.
During a private tea (that Isolde insisted on):
"You seem happy," she says carefully. "With His Majesty."
The boy smiles. Soft. "I am."
Liar, Isolde thinks. No one falls in love with their kidnapper.
This is acting. Has to be.
"I'm glad." She pours tea. "I worried the marriage was... forced."
"It was. At first." The boy's honesty surprises her. "But things changed."
"Changed how?"
"He's..." The boy looks toward where the Dark King is across the room, speaking with advisors. "Kind. Protective. He makes me feel safe."
The acting is excellent.
"I'm happy you found that," Isolde says. Meaning none of it.
She watches them together.
The way the Dark King hovers. Never far from the boy's side.
The way the boy leans into him unconsciously.
Small touches. Exchanged looks. Soft smiles.
Meant to convince her they're a happy couple.
That attacking again would be difficult.
But she sees through it.
Real love doesn't happen after kidnapping and forced marriage.
This is survival instinct.
The boy playing along to stay safe.
The Dark King possessive of his prize.
On the third day, she finds the boy in the library.
"Kaelis," she says softly.
He looks up. Slightly wary.
Still doesn't trust her.
Good instincts.
"Mother."
"I wanted to apologize." She sits across from him. "Properly. For everything I put you through. The controlling. The forced marriage arrangement. I was trying to protect the kingdom but I..." She lets her voice break. "I forgot to protect you."
His expression softens. "It's... okay."
"It's not." She reaches across. Takes his hand. He doesn't pull away. "You're my son. And I failed you. But I can see now that you've found happiness here. With His Majesty."
"I have," he says quietly.
"Then I'm happy for you." She squeezes his hand. "And if you ever need anything—if His Majesty ever treats you poorly—" She meets his eyes. "You can always come home."
"Thank you," he whispers.
She's planted the seed.
Made herself seem safe.
Trustworthy.
When the time comes—when she makes her real move—
He might even come willingly.
That night, preparing to leave:
Isolde stands at her window, looking out at the castle.
King Daemon appears beside her. He snuck in through magic. Risky but necessary.
"Well?" he asks.
"The boy is different," she says. "Not like Kaelis at all. Mature. Diplomatic. Acts like a real king."
"That's... good?"
"It's useful." She smiles. "He has the people's respect. The Dark King's trust. He's integrated into this court."
"So?"
"So when I take him, it'll hurt more." Her smile widens. "The Dark King thinks he's safe. Thinks their little performance of marital bliss convinced me."
"It didn't?"
"Please." She scoffs. "No one falls in love with their kidnapper. They're acting. Trying to appear strong. United." She turns to Daemon. "Which means they have weaknesses I can exploit."
"When do we move?"
"Soon." She looks back at the castle. At the boy's window. "Let them think they're safe. Let them relax. Let their guard down." Her eyes gleam. "And then I'll take what's mine."
The next morning, she bids them farewell.
"Thank you for your hospitality," she says to the Dark King.
He nods. Cold.
Still doesn't trust her.
Good.
She turns to the boy. "Take care of yourself, Kaelis."
"I will." He even smiles. "Safe travels, Mother."
She leaves.
Carriage rolling away from the castle.
But her mind is already planning.
The boy is vulnerable.
The Dark King is obsessed.
Their "love" is fake.
She'll wait. Watch. Find the right moment.
And then she'll strike.
This time, there will be no failure.
This time, she'll take the boy.
And the Dark King will break.
She smiles as the castle disappears behind her.
"Soon," she whispers.