Entangled Hearts: A Tale of Twisted Affection

Bang!

The silver spoon clattered to the marble floor, its sound sharp and startling in the oppressive silence of the dining hall. Aria froze, her heart pounding as the room seemed to shrink around her.

"What is wrong with you?" roared King Malakar, his deep voice filled with irritation. His piercing gaze bore into her, making her feel smaller than ever.

King Malakar was no ordinary ruler; his name struck fear across the seven realms. Known for his cruelty and ruthless ambition, he ruled with an iron fist, crushing any opposition beneath his heel. His greed knew no bounds. From his throne in Eldoria, he orchestrated the illegal trade of slaves, treating people as commodities to fuel his insatiable hunger for wealth.

Despite his power, Malakar's figure was a grotesque contradiction to the majesty of his kingdom. His round, bloated form sat heavily in the chair, his golden teeth glinting whenever he opened his mouth to bark orders or insults.

"Get out," he snapped, waving Aria away.

Aria quickly bowed, her dark curls falling over her face as she bent low. She turned to leave, her hands shaking from the king's wrath. But just as she reached the door, his voice boomed again.

"Come back here."

Aria's heart sank. She swallowed hard and turned back to face him, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

"Should I tell you what to do before you do the right thing?" Malakar growled, his golden teeth glimmering . He leaned forward, his potbelly pressing against the edge of the table. "You're such a pretty girl."

Aria suppressed the wave of disgust rising in her throat. "I apologize, Your Highness," she said in her calmest voice. "But I already picked up the spoon." She held it up, hoping the gesture would placate him.

"Not that!" Malakar barked, his tone growing sharper. "There's a stain on my clothes. Won't you clean it?"

Her gaze flickered to his chest, where his elaborate robes were as spotless as the polished floors. There was no stain—only another excuse for the king to assert his dominance. Aria's skin crawled under his leering gaze. She knew what he wanted, what he had done to other maids before her.

"But Your Highness, there's nothing on your clothes," she said gently, keeping her voice steady though her stomach churned. "Please excuse me, Your Highness."

Malakar's eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, another servant entered, carrying a golden goblet filled with his favorite wine. His attention shifted, his greed overtaking his desire.

"Ah, my wine," he muttered, waving Aria off dismissively.

Without waiting for another word, Aria hurried out of the hall, her chest heaving with relief as she reached the corridor. She leaned against the cool stone wall, closing her eyes for a moment. Her pulse still raced, but she couldn't stop now.

The work was unending, but Aria was used to it. Normally, she served the prince, whose quiet nature and limited demands made her duties manageable. Today had been an exception, and she already regretted agreeing to cover for someone else.

As she reached for a broom to sweep the corridor, a sharp pain pierced her chest. She gasped, clutching her heart as a wave of unease washed over her. Something was wrong.

"Elara," she whispered, her thoughts immediately going to her daughter. The bond between mother and child told her Elara was in danger.

She spotted Matilda, a fellow maid, passing by. "Matilda, can you finish this for me? Please, it's urgent," Aria begged.

"What's wrong?" Matilda asked, her face creased with concern.

"Don't worry, just help me. I have to go," Aria said, her voice trembling. Without waiting for a reply, she turned and ran, her skirt swishing around her legs as she made her way to the stables.

She climbed into a carriage, urging the driver to hurry. Tears streamed down her face as she whispered, "Hold on, Elara. I'm coming. Please, just hold on."

Downstairs, the door creaked open, its sound echoing through the quiet, empty house. Elara curled up tighter in her hiding spot, her small frame trembling with fear. She strained her ears and heard the voice of a man, cold and menacing, drift up the stairs.

"You can only run for so long," he taunted. "In no time, I'll catch you."

The words sent a chill through her, and her heart skipped painfully in her chest. Her breathing quickened as terror gripped her, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob.

Nearby, her hand brushed against something cold and solid. She glanced down to find an iron rod lying beside her. Grabbing it with both hands, she pressed it to her chest like a lifeline, trying to steady her trembling fingers. The sky outside was turning orange as the day faded into evening, casting long, eerie shadows through the cracks in the wooden walls.

Tears welled in her wide, terrified eyes as she bit her lip to keep from crying aloud. The sound of heavy footsteps grew louder, each one hammering her nerves like a drumbeat.

"There you are," the man's voice growled suddenly, his words cutting through the silence like a blade.

Elara gasped as the figure emerged from the shadows. Her grip on the rod tightened as the man's cruel smile twisted his face into something monstrous.

"What a foolish little bitch," he sneered, blood dripping from a gash on his forehead where he'd clearly struck something earlier. "Is this where you've been hiding?"

The man's voice oozed malice, and Elara froze, rooted to the spot by fear. Slowly, he stepped closer, pulling something from his pocket—a syringe filled with a glowing green liquid.

"It's time to go, darling," he said mockingly, his dark smile growing wider.

"Please, sir, don't hurt me!" Elara begged, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face.

The man laughed, unmoved by her desperation. "Too late," he hissed, his grip tightening as he reached for her arm.

Elara screamed and swung the iron rod with all her might, hitting him squarely on the side lof the head. The impact made a sickening crack, and blood began dripping from the gash on his forehead. But the man barely flinched. Instead, his wicked smile grew darker.

"That's all you've got?" he sneered.

He grabbed her arm harshly and brought the syringe closer, but just as the needle was about to pierce her skin, his hand froze ins midair. Confusion flashed across his face as he realized he couldn't move.

"What—?" he growled, looking around.

Aria stood in the doorway, her eyes blazing with determination. Her hands were outstretched, trembling slightly, as if she were controlling an invisible force holding the man back. Elara's fear gave way to relief as her mother appeared, a fierce protector standing between her and the threat.

"And who are you?" the man sneered, though his smile faltered slightly.

Ignoring him, Aria hurried to Elara, pulling her daughter close. "Go to your hiding spot downstairs," she whispered urgently. "Do not come out, no matter what happens. Promise me, Elara."

"But Mama—"

"Promise me," Aria said firmly, her voice trembling with both fear and resolve.

Elara hesitated, tears streaking her cheeks, but finally nodded. Her mother gave her one last, desperate look—a look filled with love, fear, and sorrow—before pushing her gently toward the door.

"Quit the chatter," the man growled, his voice laced with menace. "I'm here for the kid, and I don't want to fight. Hand her over, or I'll force my way through you."

"You'll never have my child," Aria said, tears streaming down her face as she stepped in front of him.

The fight was brutal. The man lunged at her, but Aria fought back with a ferocity born of desperation. The sound of their struggle—the crashes, the grunts, the cries—echoed through the house. Downstairs, Elara huddled in her hiding spot, her tiny hands pressed over her ears as she sobbed.

Aria knew she couldn't win. The man was too strong, too relentless. Her only chance was the spell—a forbidden incantation she had learned long ago. It would drain every ounce of her strength but would take the man's life as well.

As the man lunged again, Aria began to hum the spell under her breath. The air around them seemed to grow heavier, charged with unseen power. The man froze, his movements becoming sluggish as the spell took hold. His body began to dissolve, his form breaking apart into swirling particles of air.

By the time he was gone, Aria was on her knees, her body weak and trembling. The spell had drained her completely, and she knew her time was short.

With great effort, she crawled toward the small door where Elara was hiding. Her vision blurred, and each breath came harder than the last. Finally, she reached it and pulled it open.

"Elara," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Forgive me, please."

"Mama, no! You didn't do anything wrong!" Elara sobbed, rushing to her mother's side.

Aria cupped her daughter's tear-streaked face, her trembling hand brushing Elara's cheek. "My darling, you are stronger than you think," she said, her voice breaking. "You'll face obstacles, but you will overcome them. Promise me you'll stay strong."

Elara shook her head, her tears falling harder. "Mama, please don't leave me. Please!"

"When you turn 18… go to the king's palace," Aria said, her voice fading. "That is where your fate lies. Live a happy life, Elara. I will always be with you…"

Her hand fell limp, and her body stilled.

"Mama! No!" Elara wailed, her cries filling the small space as the evening shadows grew darker around her. Tears blurred her vision until all she could see was her mother's lifeless form, and the weight of her grief crushed her small heart.