The Epic of The Tyrant King’s Chosen One

Ceremus stood there, aghast—completely and utterly dumbfounded. His eyes locked on his mother, and it became painfully clear she wasn't joking. She wasn't playing some trick on him. No, she was serious. And when a goddess spoke of your fate, there was little room for doubt. Her words carried weight, and that weight would shape his future whether he accepted it or not.

Still, the thought was unbearable. His destined companion, his chosen one, was supposed to be a man? The very notion rattled him to the core. How could it be? Ceremus, the proud king of Trojas, was expected to fall in love with someone he couldn't even imagine, someone he had never met. It seemed absurd, impossible. He couldn't picture it—couldn't fathom how a relationship like that could form, how it could be yet, this stranger was destined to become his closest companion, his equal, his ally, his lover.

The thought repulsed him, yet he couldn't ignore the gnawing reality that his mother's words would come true, whether he liked it or not.

And Ceremus didn't like it. 

This was not the life he had imagined for himself. He had long ago believed that whatever he wanted, he could have—and whatever he didn't want, he could destroy. That was the world he had created after his father's death, a world where his will was law, and nothing could challenge it. The idea of having his life, his very heart, shaped by someone else was foreign to him. 

He picked up people and cast them aside like objects when he no longer had any use for them. How could a man such as himself be tied down to a single person? How dare the fates decide his future for him? Ceremus was enraged. 

Yet his mother had spoken, and her prophecy hung in the air like an inescapable truth. 

Ceremus scoffed at his mother's words, brushing them off as if they were beneath him. "There's no way I'm letting that happen," he snapped, his voice sharp with defiance.

Aria's gaze softened, her voice steady and calm. 

"There's no 'letting things happen' in this situation, son. What has been foretold will come to pass. There's no avoiding it."

His face twisted in anger, the frustration too much to contain. He pushed himself up, no longer interested in sitting on the cloud, the serene environment now a source of irritation. "Then the fates can go flog themselves for all I care!" he spat, his words dripping with contempt. 

Without another word, he stormed off, barking orders at a maidservant to disconnect him from the celestial planes. He wasn't ready to face the reality of his destiny, and he wouldn't listen to it—not now, not ever.

Aria didn't call after him. She knew too well how her son could be when angered. She watched in silence as he left, her heart heavy with a mix of sorrow and concern. 

A maidservant, having witnessed the exchange from a distance, approached quietly. Her eyes were filled with sympathy as she saw the weariness in Aria's expression.

"My goddess, what troubles you?" the maid asked softly.

Aria shook her head, her sigh carrying the weight of years of worry. "I worry for my son. Since Peleus' death, he has become so selfish, so closed off from others. He has built walls around his heart, and I fear for the person who will one day be tasked with breaking them down. I truly fear for his future."

The maid knelt beside her, offering a gentle smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "But it seems there's someone out there who might be able to tame the young lord."

Aria's expression softened, but there was a trace of sadness in her eyes. "Perhaps. I can only hope that the one destined to be his companion will have the strength to love him despite his many faults. And that my son, in time, will come to see reason." She motioned for the maidservant to sit closer, her fingers gently tugging at her long, flowing tresses as she spoke. 

The maidservant settled at Aria's feet, and for a moment, the goddess was lost in thought. "He was once a good boy. I know there's still some goodness buried deep within him. I just hope he can find it before it's too late."

*

Ceremus returned to the palace, his mood even darker than when he had left. Anemone watched from a distance as his king shed his outer robes, opting to change into the ones he wore in private. Throughout the process, he refused the help of the servants, choosing to do everything himself with an air of defiance. The advisor could clearly see that the King was angry, but there was something else—something unexpected—on his face: bafflement. Distress was written all over Ceremus, though the exact cause was elusive.

Did his meeting with his mother not go well? Anemone wondered quietly to himself. 

He knew the King wasn't in the right frame of mind for any serious conversation, so he made a quick decision to have someone sent to Ceremus' chambers to "soothe" him. At least this would keep him occupied for a while. He also gave strict orders that no one was to disturb the King until then. The news seemed to pacify Ceremus somewhat, and he locked himself away in his room for the next two hours.

Anemone, for his part, remained at his desk, patiently waiting for the King to finish his business. It was during this time that a knock echoed from the door. 

Thinking it was someone coming to inform him that the King was ready, Anemone smiled and made his way to open it. However, his smile faltered when he saw who stood on the other side.

Aryan, the captain of the royal huntsmen guild, was leaning casually against the doorframe, his towering figure filling the doorway.

Anemone sighed deeply, rubbing his temple. "Really?" he muttered, stepping aside to let Aryan in.

"Ouch. You can at least fake being happy to see me." Aryan teased, his voice light and playful as he strolled into the room.

Anemone, exasperated, rolled his eyes. "Why bother faking? I'd rather be honest about it," he replied flatly.

Aryan chuckled slowly, his golden hair gleaming in the dim light of the room. "Clearly, you don't mind wasting time, though. Here you are, sitting at your desk, waiting for that sorry excuse of a king to finish his unsavory dalliances."

The words hit Anemone like a slap to the face. His eyes widened in shock as he quickly stepped forward to close the door behind Aryan, making sure no one was within earshot of the conversation. 

"Such insolence!" Anemone hissed, his voice low but sharp as he glared at the 6'6" man standing in front of him. "You may act rudely around me, but don't you dare speak ill of your king. You could be executed for that!" 

Aryan raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Please. When have I ever been rude to you?" He said, completely disregarding his last comment. 

Anemone shot him an incredulous look, his expression a mix of disbelief and frustration. 

"Really?" he deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest. 

The golden-haired huntsman laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that filled the room. It was clear that Aryan was enjoying himself, finding amusement in pushing Anemone's buttons. Anemone, on the other hand, was doing his best to keep his composure as he watched the large man make himself at home, casually sitting down at his desk without so much as waiting for an invitation.

Anemone frowned. Such classless behaviour, he thought. 

"Why are you even here?" Anemone asked without looking up from his papers.

"Why? Do I need a reason to see you?" Aryan replied with a sly smirk.

Anemone shot him a glare, but Aryan could barely contain his laughter. His eyes danced with amusement at the fiery look Anemone gave him. 

"Would you believe me if I told you I came here because I missed you?" Aryan asked boldly, leaning back in his chair.

Anemone didn't even acknowledge him. His fingers skimmed through the documents with practiced ease, his expression calm and focused. Aryan couldn't help but be fascinated by the way Anemone's long braided hair swayed with each turn of his head. The sight was so compelling that for a brief moment, Aryan lost himself in it, forcing himself to quickly look away. 

With a deep sigh, Aryan decided to change the tone of the conversation. "I'm here because of the reports I received from my men."

Anemone's eyes flickered up for just a moment, a knowing expression crossing his face. So that's why.

Aryan pursed his lips, watching him closely. "So, you've heard about it, then?"

Anemone nodded slightly. "Yes. But I'm still not sure who or what attacked your men."

"And what's the king going to do about it? Three of my best men returned broken and battered, unable to hunt, which, I might remind you, is their livelihood," Aryan pressed, his voice tight with frustration.

Anemone didn't answer right away, feeling the weight of the situation. He understood Aryan's frustration but knew he hadn't yet had the time to discuss the matter with the king. They had no solutions, and he couldn't bring himself to give Aryan false hope. 

Aryan let out a long sigh, rubbing his face. "So the king's not going to do anything about it, huh? Why am I not surprised?" 

Anemone's patience snapped. "Hey, watch your tone. The king is a busy man. We'll look into this and get it sorted as soon as possible. Until then, you'll have to be patient."

Aryan met Anemone's glare, his hazel eyes full of doubt. He didn't voice it, but it was clear he wasn't convinced. 

"How long is 'as soon as possible,' exactly?" he asked, his voice tinged with skepticism.

Anemone paused, his expression momentarily faltering. "As soon as possible."

"Right," Aryan muttered, glancing at the stack of documents on Anemone's desk. His gaze softened with a mix of pity and understanding. "The man's got you working to the bone. I don't know why you waste your precious talents on him. You could be doing so much more at the guild. You could make better use of your skills there."

Anemone felt a strange tightness in his chest at the comment, but he didn't show it. 

"I won't have this conversation with you again Aryan. I choose to work for His Majesty and I will continue to fulfill my duties here. Get it through your thick skull already." 

Aryan's eyes flared. "Even at the expense of your health?! Your well-being? That man treats you no better than a slave!" He yelled.