Private Chambers in Roosevolt Kingdom
The grand and spacious chamber of the Roosevolt Kingdom gleamed with opulence. A magnificent chandelier hung from the center of the high ceiling, its brilliant glow casting a warm, golden sheen across every polished surface. At the far end of the room, on a throne-shaped recliner, sat a figure of imposing stature, muscular and regal, with fingers adorned in dazzling diamonds. His crown, studded with rare gemstones, reflected pride and power. Several layers of intricate jewelry sparkled against his royal garb, and beside him rested a mighty sword, its rain-guard embedded with an azure stone and etched with ornate designs that whispered of ancient craftsmanship.
"Your Majesty," King Rory of the Liliac Kingdom began in a respectful tone, "these gemstones and jewelry are some of the rarest our land offers. The sword you see here, its precision, balance, and meticulous detailing makes it one of our finest. Please consider them as small tokens of our gratitude for your military support."
King Alexander of Roosevolt leaned forward with a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His arched eyebrows added mischief to his expression as he interrupted, "What's the rush, King Rory? Let's not get tangled in kingdom matters just yet. Sit. Relax. Let's talk man-to-man for a bit."
King Rory, though slightly confused, nodded and complied.
"So," Alexander began with an unsettling calm, "let's talk about heirs. Have you decided who will succeed you?"
Rory's expression softened, his eyes glinting with sentiment. "Ah, my Lance, my only child. A capable young man. He will be crowned soon. I'd be honored to send you a personal invitation to the ceremony."
Alexander's lips curled into a deeper smirk. "Sure, why not! So, just one child, then? No daughter?"
Rory hesitated, then answered honestly. "I don't have a daughter by blood, Your Majesty. But there is someone who treats me like a father with love and utmost respect."
King Rory's face lit up, unmindful of the calculating gleam in Alexander's eyes. "She's brilliant and beautiful. Though sweet and childish at heart, her wisdom often surprises even me. She is the most exquisite flower of my estate."
Alexander leaned in slightly. "Interesting. What's her name again?"
"Rose," Rory replied, his voice warm. "Her name is Rose."
There was a long pause.
"I want Rose's hand in marriage," Alexander declared smoothly, "for my son."
King Rory's expression faltered, caught completely off guard. "But Your Majesty... wasn't your son recently wed in a grand ceremony?"
Alexander chuckled, but his tone was sharp. "I'm not referring to my youngest. I mean Lazarus. The King of this Kingdom."
The air in the room shifted. Horror flashed across Rory's face.
To offer his delicate Rose as a bride to the Dark Lord himself? That was not marriage- it was sacrifice. Rory had heard stories. Whispers of cruelty. Ruthlessness. Darkness. And though many dismissed them as exaggerated, deep down he knew the chilling truth they held.
As if reading his mind, Alexander's voice broke through, calm yet cold. "You need not worry. Once she enters this kingdom as the King's bride, she will be honored and respected as a queen. She will have power, status and everything a woman could dream of. Don't you agree?"
King Rory's silence was answer enough. His discomfort was evident.
Alexander's patience thinned. "Surely, you know the might of Roosevolt's military. Just our backing could win you the war. And yet, you're hesitating... over a mere bride?"
"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Rory stammered, "but she's only nineteen. I don't think-"
"Support from Roosevolt will only come," Alexander interrupted sharply, "when Rose becomes my son's bride. That is the condition."
"But- your father, King Odin- he promised assistance in return for the favor he owed- "
Alexander's tone turned venomous. "Are you asking us to repay that favor now? Do you dare defy me and refuse my request? Do you want my son to know that you denied him?!"
He rose, tall and furious. "Let me make this very clear: the support of Roosevolt's military is already a great favor. One you clearly do not appreciate. Now, I suggest you leave and think. When you're ready to accept my condition, you will receive our help. Not before."
With that, Alexander turned and strode out of the chamber, offering no room for discussion.
King Rory, left alone, slowly raised his bowed head. He collapsed back into his seat, pressing his hand against his temple. His mind raced for a way out, a loophole, an alternative or anything. But there was none.
How could he ask his most trusted general to give away the daughter he loved more than life itself? How could he destroy her future for a deal? And not just any deal, this was a pact with the devil.
To send Rose as the bride of the Dark Lord... it felt like signing her death sentence. She would be crushed within the cold, merciless walls of this kingdom.
It was a matter of life and death- for his daughter, and for his kingdom.
What should he choose?
His heart, or his crown?
He stood up after a long, tormented pause. His mind was made up, though not without pain.
A single life could never outweigh the fate of thousands.
But it didn't make it any less devastating.