Chương 2: Prologue: Regret is a luxury

CW: 18+ violence

"Now that we've established some order," Ragnar declared, his voice echoing through the chamber, "I suggest you all reflect on the consequences of defiance. Cescil is now under new rule, and any disobedience will be met with swift and severe consequences."

"You'll regret this," Queen Oda declared, her voice laced with defiance.

Ragnar chuckled, a cold and merciless sound. "Regret is a luxury, my dear Queen. A luxury you can no longer afford."

Arn raised his sword high, its gleaming edge catching the ambient light as he awaited Ragnar's signal.

With a mere nod, the blade descended swiftly, and Queen Oda's anguished scream echoed through the chamber as her leg was ruthlessly severed.

"ARGHH!"

The room was filled with the gut-wrenching sound of pain. The metallic tang of dense blood hung heavily in the air, assaulting the senses of all those who remained bowed on the cold, unyielding marble floor.

Their faces pressed against it, bodies quivering with a mix of fear and submission, they bore witness to the brutality that accompanied the dawn of a new reign.

"Oda!" King Reinald's cry pierced the air, but the firm boot of Reeves, a dragon rider, forcibly pressed his head down, ensuring he remained kissing the cold floor.

Queen Oda's breaths became labored, and her cries erupted, a symphony of pain and despair. The sharp, stabbing agony in her leg defied description, an excruciating torment that felt like an impending demise.

In the throes of agony, Queen Oda could only weep and wail, her body contorting in a futile attempt to escape the searing pain.

The blood flowed relentlessly from her injured leg, creating a macabre tableau on the marbled floor.

She struggled and pleaded, but not a single soul in the room dared to defy Ragnar's tyranny or offer solace to the fallen queen.

The oppressive silence that followed bore witness to the ruthless grip of power and the anguish that accompanied the fall of a once-mighty kingdom.

"Father!!!" Sophia's anguished cry cut through the solemn ranks of Gamaaloth soldiers as she desperately pushed her petite frame through the imposing figures, determined to reach the heart of the throne hall.

"Princess Sophia, welcome," Ragnar's greeting, though seemingly cordial, held an undercurrent of coldness that sent shivers down Sophia's spine.

Arriving at the Cescil Kingdom palace, Sophia's heart pounded wildly. She paid no heed to Ragnar's words, her sole focus finding solace in the sight of her father, King Reinald, among those who bowed before the new tyrant.

Yet, her momentary relief crumbled to despair as she collapsed to her knees, her eyes widening in horror at the gruesome state of Queen Oda, her step mom.

"No! No!!!" Sophia's cries rang out, her voice filled with a potent mixture of disbelief and anguished despair.

Queen Oda's form was a grotesque testament to the brutality that had unfolded. Her survival was reduced to a mere torso and head, surrounded by pools of blood originating from the severed stumps of her hands and legs.

Her wide-open eyes gazed upward, capturing the horror and despair of the moment, as each shallow breath brought a haunting echo to the room.

Her mouth hung agape, a grotesque tableau that showcased the inhumanity of the situation. Left to linger on the precipice of life, Queen Oda's existence became a chilling manifestation of prolonged suffering.

In this grim scene, a silent understanding permeated the room – no one was permitted to end her torment. The cruel tableau stood as a macabre testament to the heartlessness of Ragnar Clementine.

Sophia struggled to rise, determined to reach her father, though stumbling several times in her effort.

"R-Reinald," Oda's voice emerged as a strained whisper, "g-guard our children, Navarro ans C-halde...," Her words were labored. Oda, though severely wounded, clung to life intentionally.

She had pleaded to be released from her prolonged suffering, but King Reinald found himself unable to grant her request. His reluctance was a manifestation of a compassion that ran deep, conflicting with the duty that bound him.

As Sophia approached, her eyes filled with desperation and confusion, she questioned her father, "Father, why won't you end her suffering? Why let her endure this torment?"

Reinald's response was a conflicted murmur, "There are things you don't understand, Sophia."

His gaze was clouded with an internal struggle between love for his queen and the complexities of royal duty.

Unbeknownst to anyone, hidden beneath the veneer of compassion, Reinald nursed a silent grudge.

He found a perverse satisfaction in Oda's torment, a twisted response to the three days and three nights of brutal torture that Lady Severa, his secret lover and Sophia's mother, had endured two decades earlier.

Oda, driven by the illicit affair between Reinald and Lady Severa, sought vengeance. Accusing Lady Severa of witchcraft and treason against the kingdom, she subjected her to relentless torment.

The pain was not only a punishment for Lady Severa but also a manifestation of Oda's deep-seated resentment for the betrayal she felt.

While Sophia remained blissfully ignorant of this dark chapter in her family's history, Ragnar, the astute observer, recognized the intricate web of deceit woven by Reinald.

"You continue to be a coward in this timeline, Reinald. You only displayed a semblance of true courage when you were on the verge of losing your daughter, Sophia. But redemption comes too late. Your daughter had to endure a similar destiny to her mother's," Ragnar seethed, his words laden with bitterness.

The royal court, entangled in a web of secrets, revenge, and impending tragedy, unraveled in the shadows, hidden from the unsuspecting eyes of Princess Sophia.

The dragons of Gamaaloth unleashed a symphony of roars, their mighty voices reverberating through the air outside the palace.

In unison, they emphatically stomped their colossal feet, sending tremors that resonated within the very foundations of the Cescil Kingdom's palace.

The sheer power and threat they posed were palpable, a forewarning that the palace itself would be reduced to smoldering ruins if anyone dared to oppose the ascension of Ragnar as the new king.

Inside the chamber, Ragnar's voice cut through the tense air, echoing with authority. "So, who else dares to reject my claim as the new king?"