The Fae's Hexed King

❣️Seraphina❣️

I sighed, a faint wisp of white escaping my lips. A shiver traced its way from my spine to my fingertips, even through my thick velvet gown. The wide stone corridors held no warmth in the least which made me flinch and shudder occasionally.

It was a bitter contrast to the warmed forest of my home. My hands were shackled with heavy iron, not for fear of my escape, but to neutralize my magic. The metal bit into my wrists, a constant reminder of my shame.

I was Princess Seraphina, the last hope of the Fae Kingdom, and here I was bound in chains and on my knees to beg.

Two guards emerged, clad in gleaming steel armour and battle scars, led me through halls where every footstep shook like I was awaiting judgement. It has been ten years since a Fast had set foot in these walls, not since the war that nearly wiped my people out.

Finally, they shoved me through massive doors into a throne room. It was empty and sad, no decor or colour. The only ornament was the king himself, seated on a throne of dark iron that looked as if it had been forged in a volcanoe.

King Elias was a myth whispered in my kingdom, a ruthless human who had seized the throne through force and sharp intellect. He was not as old as I had expected. His face was sharp, carved from marble, and his eyes were the color of the ocean, cold but clear. He watched my movements keenly as a scientist observed their specimen.

"Princess Saraphina," he said, his voice as smooth and hard as polished stone. "You came."

My head screamed at me to kneel. I did not. I lifted my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his. "King Elias. We are a people of peace, but our lands are dying. I have a proposal."

A humourless smile touched his lips. "You do not need to tell me. The tragedy of the dying Fae Forests travels far. I hear your magic weakening with every passing day."

My hands clenched. He knew. Of course he knew. He had spies everywhere, and a mind that calculated every move.

"My kingdom is withering under a curse. I think it is the same curse you bear." I lifted my chin, pointing to the silver markings that crept up his neck like a beautiful tattoo, a subtle but spreading decay of magic. "And I believe I know how to break it."

He gave a cold dry laugh that cackled through the room. "My curse, princess? The one the Fae placed on me as a child?" He rose from his throne and descended the steps, moving slowly with a predator's grace. He stopped before me, close enough to see the dark silhouette shifting pattern on his neck.

It was not a marking but a tattoo of black vines that twisted and writhed across his skin, alive with a consuming energy. It radiated a cold so deep that it stole the breath from my lungs. I had only ever seen traces of this curse, never its source. He took my hand in his, and the cursed vines on his skin flared, a violent, painful burn. He ignored it, his gaze locked in mine.

"This is not a curse, Princess," he said, his voice dropping to a low growl. "This is a brand. A brand of ownership. It is how your people claim what is theirs, is it not? How you mark your 'fated mates'."

My blood ran cold. The words "fated mates" were a sacred taboo. The humans had taken the most intimate bond of our people and twisted it into a symbol of possession.

Elias saw my reaction and his smile widened, a cruel slash of triumph. "An ancient prophecy foretells that the curse can only be broken by a Fae born with human blood. A unique creature, such as yourself. Don't worry, I have no intention of claiming a wretched Fae like you. We will simply use what we must, and then you will be on your way."

He released my hand, and the pain in his eyes was replaced by a familiar disdain. "I will agree with your alliance. But in exchange for my help, you will surrender your ancient artefact; the Sunstone of Sylvandell. And you will swear a blood oath that you will not leave my side until my curse is broken. Failure to do so will result in the destruction of your entire kingdom."

I stared at him, my heart pounding. He was not just offering a deal: he was offering a cage. A cage of stone, steel, and a bond neither of understood.

The price was deep, the terms brutal. But as I looked at the cold, calculating King. I knew this was my only way and change. My only hope for saving my people.

"I accept your terms," I said, the words a low whisper.

"Good," he replied, a chilling glint in his winter cold eyes. "Then our journey begins in two days."

My return to my personal chamber was not one of relief but of bitter acceptance. The guards sealed the door behind me, a heavy thud of finality. A single servant, a young human girl with, frightened eyes, stood in the corner, and I could tell she saw me as a monster.

I had been told to rest, but rest was a luxury I couldn't afford. The Sunstone of Sylvandell. He was demanding a piece of my very soul. It was a relic of creation, crystallized piece of our Sun God's power, and it was what my people had used to keep our lands alive, to fend off the curse for centuries. Giving it up meant handing over the last piece of my kingdom's power, making us utterly dependent on him.

My own curse, the slivery markings that crawled up my skin, flared with a painful burn. It was a weakness, a slow decay that had plagued my people for generations. The curse was a price we paid for our magic. The more powerful we were, the more it eroded us.