Chapter 14 - powerless

  Ryn now stood face-to-face with a too-familiar sight: an angry knight blocking his way.

  This one was younger, less imposing than Dolrak, and clearly not of the Royal Vanguard, Maybe not even a full knight yet. But his presence, especially now, gnawed at Ryn’s already frayed patience.

  He tried to sidestep, hoping, no, praying that they had merely crossed paths by coincidence.

  Of course, luck was never that kind.

  “You—y-you vile thing!” the young knight spat, stepping forward. “You’re Ryn, aren’t you? The one Sir Dolrak said wormed his way to the princess’s side?”

  His chin jutted forward, his glare fierce in the way only someone desperate to be taken seriously could manage.

  ‘Damn it…’ Ryn thought to himself

  He rubbed at his eyes, stifling a yawn.

  “Please Move.”

  But the man clearly had a few screws loose. Even faced with Ryn’s flat dismissal, he puffed his chest and inched closer, voice cracking with righteous fury.

  “I will protect the Princess from your dastardly plans!” he declared, loud enough for the passing servants to flinch.

  Ryn finally lifted his eyes, half-lidded and dull with exhaustion. He stared at the knight for a long, heavy moment, then sighed through his nose.

  Then, without a word, Ryn’s hand shot out. He seized the man’s wrist and twisted, forcing him down to one knee in an instant.

  The knight yelped, armor clattering.

  He sighed again and released him, letting the man stumble backward onto the marble floor. Ryn didn’t wait for a reply. He stepped past, the echo of his boots drowning out the knight’s stammering. His hands covering his face as he held back yet another yawn.

  ***

  Ryn walked briskly through the silver halls of the palace, boots tapping against polished stone. He was already late for his etiquette lesson, and of all the instructors, that one was the last he wanted to annoy. He quickened his pace, muttering under his breath, rehearsing some excuse that might sound convincing.

  He rolled his shoulders, irritation gnawing at him more than the boy’s foolishness had any right to.

  He didn’t have the patience for this.

  But as he turned the next corner, the palace quieted around him. The air shifted, swallowing the sound of his footsteps. Then came voices — one sharp, unmistakable.

  He rounded a corner and froze.

  A voice rang out ahead, sharp, commanding, impossible to mistake.

  The King.

  Of all people, Ryn hadn’t expected him here.

  However, the words Ryn heard made his heart stop.

  “...However, as the princess, you are not fulfilling your responsibilities to this kingdom.”

  The words cut through the hall. The King’s tone was calm, but the weight behind it was cold.

  Ryn’s steps faltered. He shouldn’t be here. He knew he shouldn’t. And yet, his feet rooted to the spot as the silence stretched.

  “Don’t think I haven’t heard of your little excursions outside the palace,” the King continued, echoing through the stone corridor. “Your childish stunts with that maid of yours.”

  Ariel countered. “They’re not stunts. I was learning about the people I’m meant to rule. If I can’t understand them, how can I–”

  “You are no longer a child, Ariel,” he cut her off, his tone cold enough to silence the hall. “Your power, your life, is your sole responsibility. If you cannot safeguard that, what purpose do you serve?”

  Ariel's eyes were ringed in shadow, her skin pale; every blink was heavy, as if it cost her effort. She looked exhausted.

  at that moment she didn't look like a princess at all. She looked like she might collapse at any second.

  Her jaw tightened, but her voice cracked just slightly as she answered, “I-I am safeguarding it. I’ve done everything you’ve asked, haven’t I? Every lesson. Every appearance. I haven’t faltered.”

  His eyes narrowed, colder than stone. “And yet you waste your time with servants and knights, where is your discipline? Where is the strength your mother entrusted to you?”

  The name struck harder than any accusation. Ariel flinched, her voice thinner now, unsteady. “Do-Dont… use her against me.”

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  “She left us her legacy,” he pressed, the words precise, merciless. “One she carried until her last breath. And now it falls to you. Tell me, Ariel, how should we honor her memory, if her only child refuses to shoulder what she left behind?”

  The silence that followed was suffocating. Ariel’s lips parted, but no words came. Her defiance dimmed, her hands curling tight at her sides as the weight of her father’s words settled heavily on her shoulders.

  Ryn froze just out of sight, his back pressed to the cold stone. The King’s voice carried through the corridor. He'd heard that tone before, it was too familiar, and his gut twisted at the sound of it. He couldn't do anything… he couldn't. It wasn't his place to interfere with the bond of father and daughter.

  And yet, as he listened, the weight in his chest only grew heavier.

  The King’s gaze softened, but it was the kind of softness that left no comfort. “Do not look so wounded, child. I am not your enemy.” His tone lowered, quieter now, as though coaxing a frightened bird. “All this weight you feel, it need not crush you. You need only do what you were born to do.”

  He stepped closer, the echo of his boots measured, deliberate. “Your blessing lies dormant, waiting. Once you awaken it, once you finally embrace it, all this struggle will vanish. You will be strong. Worthy. Exactly what your mother would have wanted.”

  Ariel swallowed hard, her shoulders trembling though she tried to stand straight.

  “Do not mistake me,” he continued, voice gentler now, almost kind. “I am not asking for more than you can give. Only that you rise to the role you were meant for, stop playing at rebellion. Open yourself to the fire that is your birthright.”

  “Simply awaken and fulfill the duty your mother left behind.”

  A long silence followed.

  Ariel didn’t move.

  She stood still, pale beneath the shadow of his words. Her fingers clenched faintly at her skirts, the only sign of the storm roiling inside her. Then, without a word, she bowed her head.

  “Thank you, Father,” Ariel said at last, her voice flat, stripped of any emotion.

  The king regarded her a moment longer, his expression unreadable, then let out a quiet sigh. Without another word, he turned and strode down the hall, his footsteps echoing until the silence swallowed them.

  Ariel remained where she was, shoulders rigid, eyes fixed on nothing. It was as if his presence lingered even after he’d gone, holding her in place.

  When the king’s footsteps finally faded, Ariel stood frozen for a breath too long. Then, without warning, she spun on her heel and fled down the opposite hall, head bowed so her face was hidden.

  Ryn watched her pass, the weight of what he’d overheard pressing hard against his chest. And just like on that first day, his hand moved he could think, catching her arm, halting her flight.

  Ariel twisted her gaze searching for the one who had stopped her. Golden eyes lit with emotions he found hard to describe.

  “Ryn!?” Her voice cracked with surprise, sharper than she meant. “What are you doing here?”

  Eyes wide, face pale, just realizing someone else had been there.

  He hesitated.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped, the sharpness in her voice covering the tremor beneath.

  She spun on him, eyes blazing. “Let go! Don’t—don’t act like you understand!” The words hit harder than she meant them to, her voice cracking at the edges.

  “O-Of course you don’t,” she spat. “You’re just a sword with legs. Swing when you’re told, stand where you’re placed. ”

  For a moment, she froze, his steady gaze holding her in place. Her lips parted like she might say more, but instead, she drew herself up, trying to tug her arm free with a sharp motion, but she failed and turned away.

  “Just… stay out of it,” she muttered, the fire in her tone already dimming into something heavier.

  Ryn’s fingers slackened, though he didn’t release her completely. He felt the weight of the words, heavy, unshakable. She’s right, he thought bitterly. I don’t understand. And it isn’t my place to try.

  But he didn't let go.

  He hesitated, searching for the right thing to say, something steady, simple.

  “If you can’t handle it—”

  Ariels shoulders stiffened. “If I can’t handle it?” Her voice dropped, quieter now, dangerous. “Do you think I have that option, Ryn?”

  He froze, caught off guard.

  “If I stumble… even once… my father sees it. The court sees it. Every noble in this palace sees it. I don’t get second chances like you. One mistake—and it isn’t just me. It’s my house. My kingdom.”

  Ryn shifted, uncertain.

  He paused for a second before speaking again.

  “I just thought…”

  Her voice trembled then, just faintly. “I can’t afford to fail, Ryn.. Not even once… Not when everything I am is already being measured against what I should be.”

  Silence.

  He wanted to say something that would help… but what came out was clumsy. “Nobody expects you to be perfect.”

  Ariel froze.

  The look she gave him could’ve cut glass.

  “You don’t get it, Ryn.” Her tone cracked, exhaustion bleeding into every word. “And I don’t think you ever will.”

  The words hung between them, heavy and final. For a heartbeat, she looked like she might say more perhapsanother sharp retort, maybe an apology… but nothing came. Her lips trembled instead, her eyes unfocused, searching for something to hold onto and finding nothing.

  The silence stretched.

  “…I can’t…” she whispered, her voice breaking as her hands curled at her sides. “…I can’t do this.”

  For a moment, Ryn just stood there, caught in the sharp edge of silence. He wanted to say something, anything, but the right words wouldn’t come. Everything he thought of sounded clumsy, empty, unworthy of the pain in her voice.

  So he said nothing.

  He only stood there, still holding her arm,

  Ariel lingered like that for a breath longer before she straightened abruptly, pulling herself free. Her mask slid back into place, though her eyes were rimmed faintly red.

  “This never happened,” she muttered, brushing past him before he could answer.

  Ryn didn’t move, didn’t turn, only watched her retreat. Her steps were too quick, skirts swishing with each sharp motion, but her shoulders betrayed her: stiff, trembling, caught between holding strong and breaking apart.

  She reached the end of the corridor and paused, just for a heartbeat. Her hand touched the wall, fingers pressing against the cold stone as if to steady herself. Then, with a shallow breath, she pushed off and disappeared around the corner without looking back.

  Only the faint echo of her steps remained, growing weaker until the silence devoured them.

  Ryn didn’t follow. He just stood there in the empty hall, jaw tight, the echo of her voice gnawing at him