The Return of the Betrayed Heir

14

Alex walked into the manor with heavy, cautious steps, heading straight toward his father's study on the upper floor. He pushed the large wooden door open slowly and slipped inside. Lord Aenys stood near the window, gazing out over the courtyard with an unreadable, stern expression. Reyla sat on the side sofa, her eyes fixed on Alex, heavy with resentment and anxiety.

Alex cleared his throat, trying to sound composure. "You wanted to see me, Father?"

Aenys turned around slowly. In an instant, a suffocating aura flared from his blood-red eyes—the terrifying pressure that no dragon could withstand: The Dragon King's Authority. Alex's knees buckled instantly. He tried to stand his ground, but the crushing pressure weighed down on him like molten lead, forcing his knees to hit the floor.

"Do you dare defy your mother?" Aenys asked, his deep voice echoing like thunder. Every word felt like a physical weight choking the air from Alex's lungs. Alex had never felt pressure this absolute. He bit his lower lip hard and squeezed his eyes shut.

"She wanted me to bond with my siblings," Alex gasped out, struggling for breath. "I have no desire to see them or be near them."

Aenys increased the gravity of his aura. "And why is that?"

"I refuse to stand in the same room with my rivals," Alex spat out through gritted teeth.

Reyla recoiled on the sofa, startled. (Rivals...?)

Aenys turned his full body toward Alex and stepped closer, his face cold and unreadable. "So you are truly set on these words."

"Yes," Alex wheezed, sweat dripping down his forehead. "I am."

Aenys abruptly withdrew his crushing aura. Air rushed back into Alex's lungs, and he gasped desperately, steadying himself on the floor.

Reyla turned to her husband, her voice shaking. "What does he mean by rivals?"

Aenys replied casually, "Your son wants the throne. Because of that, he has already declared his siblings his enemies."

Reyla snapped. She stood up, marched over to Alex, and slapped him hard across the face. The strike snapped his head sideways. Tears welled in her eyes as she yelled, "They are your brothers! Not your enemies! You are only six years old—how can you look at them as rivals?! Baelon is the firstborn, the right to the throne belongs to him!"

Alex wiped a thin line of blood from his lip with the back of his hand, fixing his burning red eyes on his mother. "I might be six, but my star has already risen, and I will grow stronger every day. Baelon might be older, but you know as well as I do, Mother... as long as I draw breath, I have a right to that throne."

Reyla raised her hand to strike him again, but Aenys flared a pulse of his dark aura, stopping her hand in mid-air. "Enough, Reyla."

Her lip trembled. "But Aenys...!"

Aenys stepped between them, looking down at Alex. "He isn't lying. As my son, that right flows in his blood by default. But remember this, Alex... the throne is not a place for just anyone."

Alex narrowed his crimson eyes, his tone dipped in venom. "I will prove to you that I am worthy of it, Father."

Aenys leaned down slightly, meeting the boy's gaze dead-on. "Even if it means killing your own brother to reach it... will you still walk that path to the end?"

Without a single second of hesitation, Alex answered softly, "Yes."

Reyla completely lost her composure. She covered her mouth, sobbing hysterically. "You want to be a fratricide?! You know nothing of what happened in the past! That path only ever ends in ruin!"

Alex met her hysteria with ice-cold calm. "I know exactly what happened in the past. I know how your father and Aenys's father waged war and tore this family apart. I know Father only became king because he was the eldest survivor! But it won't happen like that with me. I will become so much stronger than Baelon that even he will be forced to bow, accept my power, and yield the throne to me."

"They were brothers!" Reyla sobbed, her voice breaking. "Your grandfather Daeron was the strongest dragon of his generation, yet they still fought, and the land ran red with blood!"

Daeron Dragonblood was Aenys's father—the most powerful dragon of his era. Yet his brothers refused to yield, triggering a brutal civil war that nearly extinguished their bloodline.

"That wasn't Grandfather Daeron's fault," Alex retorted coldly. "It was your father's fault for refusing to yield to the stronger dragon."

*SLAP!* 

Reyla struck him again, her hand shaking violently. "Silence... just stop!" She collapsed to her knees, tears streaming down her face. "I know that too..." she whispered, her voice cracking. "I know the horror of it better than anyone..."

Aenys placed a hand on Alex's shoulder and said quietly, "Go to your room, Alex. Wait for me there."

Alex turned and left the study without another word, closing the heavy doors behind him. Alone in the room, Aenys knelt beside his weeping wife and pulled her into his arms, gently stroking her hair.

"I didn't want my children to end up like them..." Reyla sobbed against his chest. "I tried so hard to bring them together so they wouldn't hate each other..."

"I know," Aenys murmured softly. "I know what you were trying to do better than anyone."

She looked up at him, her eyes red and swollen. "Why is he like this? Why is he so cold... so full of hatred?"

"Don't forget what he is, Reyla," Aenys said quietly. "He is a dragon. Dragons naturally thrive on chaos and dominance."

"Is history going to repeat itself...?" she whispered in terror.

Aenys wiped her tears away with his thumb. "Not as long as I live. Our grandfather died without securing an heir, which sparked the war. I won't make that mistake. I will do whatever it takes to prevent a war between my sons."

***

Meanwhile, Alex lay flat on his bed, staring up at the wooden ceiling.

Tessarion's voice echoed in his mind: *(You really broke her heart back there...)*

Alex let out a harsh, bitter laugh. *(What I did today is nothing compared to what she did to me in my past life! Every time she slapped me, it just brought back memories of her coldness and betrayal. Her tears won't extinguish the fire in my chest. At the end of this road, I will be the one sitting on that throne.)*

The golden dragon sighed heavily. *(I'm going to miss this mountain... and the nest I just built. Looks like I'll have to find a new spot to sleep.)*

Alex laced his fingers behind his head. *(Yeah, you should start looking. We won't be staying here much longer. My exile to the Dragon Citadel is going to happen much sooner than I thought.)*

*(If you hadn't acted like an idiot with your mother, you could have stayed and trained under Osiris longer,)* Tessarion pointed out.

Alex's eyes flashed with dark resolve. *(I don't care. You know what they did to me in my past life. How do you expect me to act nice to them? What about my feelings? I didn't ask to become like this—they created me. Now they can live with what they made.)*

The door clicked open, interrupting his thoughts. Lord Aenys stepped into the room. Alex immediately sat up and adjusted his stance.

Aenys raised his hand. Alex closed his eyes and clenched his fists, bracing himself for a heavy strike or a lecture. But instead, Aenys gently rested his hand on Alex's shoulder.

Alex opened his eyes in surprise. 

"You hurt your mother deeply today, Alex," Aenys said softly. "You don't understand what she went through growing up, or how hard she tries to protect you from that kind of life."

A bitter knot formed in Alex's throat. He looked up at his father, his voice tight. "Tell me, Father... if I were weak and talentless, would she still love me? Would she care about me like this?"

Aenys looked down at his son in silence for a long moment before answering, "Of course she would. She is your mother. She would love you no matter what. She brought you into this world."

Alex looked away, a faint, cynical smirk playing on his lips. "You don't know that, Father. Nobody knows."

"Then why do you act like you do?" Aenys asked quietly.

Alex's expression hardened. "Dragons have to be strong, Father. If you're weak, nobody cares about you. Power is the only thing that earns respect."

Aenys gently ran his hand over Alex's hair. "Is that why you push yourself so hard every day? Are you doing all of this just so your mother will accept you?"

The question hit Alex like a physical blow. *(Accept me...?)*

He had never thought about it like that. Was all his desperate pursuit of strength just a pathetic cry for validation? Was his obsession with the throne just a cover for wanting to be acknowledged?

Alex squeezed his fists tightly, shoving the thought deep down. "I never thought about it like that, Father. I don't care if she accepts me or not. My only goal is power. And I'll do whatever it takes to get it."

Aenys sighed quietly and stepped back toward the door. "Pack your essential belongings. You are going on a long journey."

Alex blinked. "Where am I going?"

"Come to my study once you're ready, and I will tell you," Aenys replied, closing the door behind him.

Alex stood alone in the room, baffled by his father's gentle tone. In his past life, Aenys had never spoken to him like that—he had only ever treated him with cold indifference.

*(Why did he talk to me like that...?)* Alex wondered.

*(Because he's your father, you idiot,)* Tessarion snapped in his mind. *(Isn't that how a father is supposed to talk to his son?)*

*(Not to me,)* Alex replied bitterly. *(Do you know how many times he spoke to me in my past life? He would walk right past me without even looking at my face. I was the useless child to him. But now that I'm strong, he suddenly treats me like a human being.)*

*(You're losing your mind, Alex...)* Tessarion muttered softly.

Alex let out a quiet breath and packed his few belongings into a small bag: a few bars of chocolate, a set of throwing daggers, and a short, finely crafted blade. 

He walked back to his father's study and knocked. Aenys looked up from a stack of military reports on his desk and gestured for him to enter.

"You're quick," Aenys noted.

"I don't own much," Alex replied. "Just took what I could easily carry."

Aenys stood up, walked over, and grabbed Alex's right wrist. Channeling a thread of dense mana, he pressed a glowing golden mark onto Alex's skin.

"This is a spatial storage rune," Aenys explained. "Right now, it has the capacity of a large wooden chest. As your strength grows, you can expand it or replace it with a higher-tier rune."

While Alex inspected the glowing gold mark on his wrist, Aenys reached behind his desk and pulled out a sleek, beautifully forged short sword designed specifically for a child's grip. He extended it toward Alex.

"This is yours."

Alex accepted the blade instinctively—the exact same sword he had received in his past life.

He buckled it to his waist and looked up. "Where are you sending me, Father? To the Dragon Citadel?"

Aenys met his gaze with an unreadable expression. "No... You are going to the kingdom of nature and ancient magic... You are going to the Elf Kingdom."