The air was heavy with the scent of damp stone and rusted iron as King Easton stepped into the dimly lit dungeon. The guards stationed at the entrance bowed deeply, their torches flickering against the cold walls. They knew better than to ask questions—this visit happened every year, without fail.
The deeper Easton walked, the more distant the echoes of the castle above became. At the very end of the corridor, behind thick iron bars, sat a frail old man—Ex-King Aldric of Drach.
Once a powerful ruler, Aldric was now a shadow of his former self. His silver hair was unkempt, his once-imposing frame reduced to little more than skin and bone. His blue eyes, the same shade Easton had inherited, flickered with something unreadable as he lifted his head at the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Ah… my son returns," Aldric rasped, a bitter smirk forming on his lips.
Easton remained silent, his face unreadable as he took his usual seat just beyond the bars.
"Still keeping me alive, are you?" Aldric chuckled dryly. "How kind of you, Easton. Tell me, how is the kingdom? How is your rule?"
Easton’s jaw tightened. "Drach thrives despite your sins."
Aldric let out a slow, wheezing laugh. "My sins… yes, I suppose that is what you call them. And yet, here you are. Every year, without fail. Do you visit because you hate me… or because you fear you are becoming me?"
Easton’s fingers curled into fists on his lap. "I am nothing like you."
Aldric tilted his head, studying his son. "A king who imprisoned his own father, a ruler who wears the crown of a throne built on blood… Tell me, Easton, how long before the weight of it all crushes you?"
Easton exhaled sharply, pushing himself to his feet. "You have lost everything. You do not get to lecture me on what it means to be a king."
Aldric's smirk remained. "And yet, you keep coming back. I wonder… when you look in the mirror, do you ever see me staring back?"
Easton turned on his heel, unwilling to let his father have the last word. As he stepped away from the cell, Aldric’s voice called after him.
"One day, you will understand, my son. And when that day comes… I will be waiting."
Easton didn’t stop. He had heard enough.
As the heavy door closed behind him, he let out a slow breath, steadying himself. No matter what his father said, no matter how deep the doubt Aldric tried to plant in him, Easton knew one thing for certain.
He was not his father.
And he never would be.
-
The cold air of the dungeon did little to faze Easton as he stepped inside. But this time, he was not alone. Beside him stood his eldest daughter, Princess Roxanne, now 18, her blue eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and unease.
"Father, are you certain about this?" she whispered, her grip tightening around the cloak draped over her shoulders.
Easton glanced down at her before nodding. "You are of age now, Roxanne. It is time you see the truth of your lineage."
The guards ahead opened the iron doors without question, and they proceeded down the familiar, dimly lit corridor. The torches flickered against the damp stone, casting long shadows as the pair made their way toward the final cell at the end of the hallway.
There, behind the thick iron bars, sat Ex-King Aldric.
His once-powerful frame had withered over the years, his hair now fully silver, his eyes still sharp despite the decay of his body. As Easton and Roxanne approached, the old man lifted his head, a slow, knowing smirk forming on his lips.
"Well, well… this is a surprise," Aldric rasped, his voice rough from years of solitude. His gaze flickered past Easton, settling on the young woman beside him. "And who is this? Another one of your mistakes, Easton?"
Roxanne stiffened, but Easton placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. His expression remained cold, unwavering.
"This is your granddaughter," Easton stated. "Princess Roxanne of Drach."
Aldric let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "My, my… so this is what my bloodline has come to. A girl with her grandmother’s beauty… but does she have the cruelty of her father?"
Roxanne’s jaw clenched, but she did not look away. "I am nothing like you," she said, her voice firm. "And neither is my father."
Aldric chuckled again, amused. "Ah… I see Easton has raised you well in his delusions. Tell me, child, do you know why your father keeps me locked away?"
Roxanne's lips pressed into a thin line. "Because you killed my grandmother. His mother."
Aldric tilted his head, his smirk widening. "Is that all he told you?"
Easton stepped forward, his presence commanding. "Enough. I brought her here to see what kind of man you are, not to listen to your manipulations."
Aldric let out a slow sigh. "Ah, Easton… always so righteous. And yet, you still come, year after year. Why? To prove something to yourself? Or perhaps you fear your children will one day see the truth—that the blood in their veins is just as tainted as mine?"
Easton’s hand tightened into a fist. "I came to show my daughter what kind of man I refuse to be. And when her siblings come of age, they too will see the truth."
Aldric leaned back against the cold stone wall, exhaling a wheezing laugh. "How noble of you… but we both know, my son, that a crown does not cleanse blood. It only stains it further."
Roxanne turned to Easton, her expression unreadable. "Are we finished here?"
Easton looked at his daughter, seeing the determination in her gaze. Without another word, he turned, leading her back toward the exit.
As the iron door slammed shut behind them, Aldric’s voice echoed softly through the corridor.
"Remember, Easton… blood never lies."
But Easton did not look back. He had no reason to.
_
As Easton and Roxanne emerged from the dungeon, the fresh air of the outside world felt almost jarring after the suffocating darkness of the prison. Roxanne remained quiet, her thoughts clearly racing as she processed everything she had just witnessed.
Easton glanced at her as they mounted their horses, ready to return to Drach Castle. "Speak your mind," he finally said, breaking the silence between them.
Roxanne exhaled slowly, gripping the reins. "He’s nothing like I imagined," she admitted. "I expected some cruel, raging monster… but he was calm. Almost calculated."
Easton nodded. "That’s what makes him dangerous."
They rode side by side through the open fields, the sound of hooves thundering against the earth. As the castle drew nearer, Roxanne turned to her father once more. "Will you take Joane next year?"
"Yes. And when Michael turns 18, he too will come." Easton’s voice was firm. "Each of you must see for yourselves what lies in our past. You will one day shape the future of this kingdom, and you must do so with clarity."
Roxanne frowned slightly, still processing everything. "And Cassaline?"
Easton hesitated, his eyes momentarily darkening with thought. "She is still young. She will not go unless necessary."
Roxanne accepted this answer with a small nod. "I understand."
They reached the castle just as the sun was beginning to set. The grand doors opened to reveal Joane, Michael, and Cassaline waiting for them, curiosity evident on their faces.
"How was it?" Joane asked, stepping forward.
Roxanne met her sister’s gaze. "I’ll tell you everything. But not tonight."
Michael, still only 15, frowned. "Was it that bad?"
Roxanne simply placed a hand on his shoulder before turning to Cassaline, who tugged at the edge of her cloak. "Did you bring me something?" the little girl asked innocently.
For the first time since the dungeon, Roxanne smiled. She reached into her pouch and handed Cassaline a small, silver pendant in the shape of a crescent moon. "Not from there, but I found this at the market before we left. It reminded me of you."
Cassaline’s face lit up with excitement. "Thank you, Roxy!" she beamed before running off to show the servants.
Joane watched as Roxanne and Easton exchanged a glance, sensing the weight of the visit in their expressions.
"You’ll tell me when I’m ready," Joane murmured to herself. "I know you will."
As the evening settled, Easton sat in his study, pouring himself a drink. The memory of his father’s words lingered in his mind, like a shadow he could never truly escape.
"Blood never lies."
He clenched his jaw and downed the drink in one swift motion.
"No," he whispered to himself. "But it does not define us, either."
With that, he rose to his feet and made his way to the dining hall, where his children waited for him. Whatever the past held, his future was clear—he would protect them, guide them, and ensure they never became the man rotting in that cell.
As the flames flickered in the grand dining hall, casting long shadows against the walls, Easton looked around the table at his children. Roxanne, thoughtful and composed, Joane, sharp and eager, Michael, still grasping his place in the world, and Cassaline, their innocent light.
They laughed together over dinner, a stark contrast to the dark memories that had resurfaced that day. But Easton knew—his past would not dictate their future.
Tonight, they were simply a family. And for now, that was enough.