Prompt: Princess in the Tower; 2min

Books remained afloat, some were flying across the room, from the bookshelves on the landings above down to where a figure stood, reading from another afloat book, the pages flipping at his will. His grey eyes, peeking between from the strands of dark hair upon his forehead were busy reading, his brows slightly constricted. The books were all that he had acquired from his kingdom and beyond– books about magic.

He had done so because he was born with magic, a gift rare, almost extinct now in the realm. He was leverage to his kingdom, but he could also become a threat and he could land himself in danger as well if his gifts became known to the world; hence he let out his magic only in the privacy of his chamber and the only ones who were aware of his prowess were his father, the King… and his betrothed, Crown Prince of Yuran.

There was a knock on his door and the moment his gaze broke, the books floating and dancing around him froze in mid-air before dropping down softly on the floor. The one who entered was his father, his mien burdened with tension, his eyes grim.

“War is coming, Taemin.” He spoke after he had stepped closer, his voice grave, “Yuran has been conquered.”

The words resonated in Taemin’s mind, in the silence between them. He stiffened, “The prince?”

“He was captured,” His father replied, his next words leaving him with difficulty, “...dead.”

Taemin turned away to look out his window, at the calm night skies that were to bring a storm come dawn. “Father, will we be conquered as well?”

“...yes.” His father answered with strain, “The evacuation is in effect. The men will stay behind and fight until the women and children reach a safe place. Even if we surrender, that vicious tyrant will spare no life.”

Taemin felt a warm hand on his shoulder and he turned his head to find his father close, his eyes now gentler, “Leave, my child. If he captures you and finds your magic… your life will become far worse than death.”

Taemin took his hand and stepped closer, his eyes on his father’s hand which was trembling in his hold despite his prideful mien, despite his determined eyes.

“Farewell.”

The King nodded, raising his other hand to his son’s head. He departed reluctantly after that and Taemin looked at the ring on his finger, a plain band of gold, calligraphy carved into it beautifully. They were words chosen by his betrothed, words from the old language of Yuran, words that meant ‘To you, my soul is tied’.

His eyes grew moist and he lowered his head, trying to contain the tremor within him. But his pain found a different way out, through his magic… and the whole chamber shook, sending books to the ground.

Dawn was a mere hour away as Taemin rode towards the walls of their fortress. The walls barricaded entry into their kingdom and what the walls could not barricade, the mountains took care of. Ever since they had heard of Yuran being attacked, the people had fled to the villages at the foot of the mountains, for, the Capitol would be the first to fall. Arlaen was built like that– the Capitol laying beyond the walls, protecting the rest of the kingdom from every threat that would breach the walls. War might have come before but the capitol always had it contained. No other town or village had ever come to harm. But it was evident that the situation was far more grave, for, they were being attacked by a King who now commanded two strong militaries. The walls would fall. The war would wipe out the Capitol and spread out. They could not defeat, they could only delay the conqueror heading their way.

Taemin knew. He knew there was no escape. Their fortress was a disadvantage now, for, they were trapped between the walls and the mountains. It was not easy to cross the mountains, but their people would die trying, and their soldiers would die fighting, rather than becoming a prisoner, a slave to a monstrous man.

Taemin got off his horse upon reaching and took the steps into the watchtower that was embedded in their fortress wall. Soft murmurs were leaving his lips as he ascended step after step, murmurs in the ancient language. His presence, his soft voice, his mystical chants were unnoticed in the chaos around him. He reached the last landing and found his father along with his trusted men around a round table, discussing a strategy. His presence went unnoticed again.

He watched his father a while, his lips still murmuring words of the mystical language. He stopped and waited. Waited for it to start.

“The walls! The walls are on fire!”

The General immediately left his spot and as he left the landing, his shoulder collided into Taemin’s. Taemin stepped aside, feeling his invisibility spell waver just the slight from the collision. He cast the spell again quickly before it wore off and settled in a corner, watching his father, watching him take the difficult decision to evacuate the tower, to abandon their fight and escape to the mountains.

Taemin watched everyone depart safely deeper into the Capitol, riding beyond it towards the shelters and hideouts they had built over time in the mountains. Taemin watched the fire engulf the walls, the entire tower, save for the landing he was on. He sighed, closing his eyes and his invisibility spell wore off.

“I knew you were here.”

Taemin turned to the voice, his eyes wide. His father was standing at the entrance, “You always used this spell to sneak out of your chambers in the night… and into the court when you were young.”

“Father, please,” Taemin turned away, knowing he would not be able to speak in a stable voice if he glanced at his father for a moment more, “You must leave.”

“Not without you, my child.”

“I cannot.” Taemin finally turned to face his father, revealing characters from the mystical language developing on the side of his face and down his neck, growing darker as they seared into his skin.  

The King’s face paled with horror. He knew what they meant. He knew it from all those times when his son would excitedly show him some parts of the spellbooks that he found interesting.

It was the mark of a curse.

“You must leave now, father. The fire cannot affect me yet but it will burn you down.” Taemin spoke, “The people need you. You must leave.”

But the King stood transfixed, “...what is the break?”

Taemin remained silent.

“Promise me, Taemin… you will return to me.”

Taemin felt his heart twist, for, he knew the words he would speak were empty, “I promise, father.”

Taemin watched his father depart from the window, his eyes falling upon the General who had waited for him below, hidden from his line of sight. They rode away and as he watched them leave his sight, his father’s question rang in his ears.

What is the break?

Taemin looked down to his hand, the ring that still rested on his finger. His mind, his senses remembered his voice, gently speaking, To you, my soul is tied.

“Death,” He answered his father’s question, his grey eyes harshly cold against the flames reflected in them.

The stench of blood filled the dungeons, the stench of the blood that was splattered on the walls of the cells… blood of many that had refused to surrender, refused to swear loyalty to the despotic king of Sihan. The ones who did only did so out of fear for their lives and were either forced to fight for Sihan or were made slaves. Slowly, the cells were vacating as more prisoners chose a lowly fate over the endless torture… the torture that had killed many men– men whose bodies were rotting in those very cells as an example, as a reminder to the rest of them.

Amidst them all, there was one young man who, instead of crying for his life, was silently enduring, waiting for death to free him from his captivity. His sharp blue eyes stared at the ring upon his finger, the ring he had doused in blood and dirt, to keep it from being snatched away. It was the sole object that made his wait bearable.

Upon capture, he had hidden well, dirtied himself in blood and mud, cast everything that could