The Forsaken Heir

The clanging of iron echoed through the dimly lit jail as the heavy door creaked open. Lorian sat in the corner of his cell, bruised and still simmering from the brawl. He raised his eyes as Thaddeus Aeloria stepped in, flanked by two stern-faced guards. His father's presence was overwhelming, even here. The disappointment and fury etched on his face struck harder than any fist from the tavern fight.

"Of all the ways to disgrace this family, Lorian, you've truly outdone yourself this time."

Thaddeus’s voice was cold, cutting through the silence like a blade. Lorian remained silent, biting down the retort that threatened to spill from his lips.

Thaddeus paced, his steps slow and deliberate. "You've always been a disappointment in the magical arts, but I had hoped you'd at least manage to stay out of trouble long enough to avoid sullying our name." He turned, his eyes burning into Lorian. "And now, in front of the entire city, you've made it clear you're nothing more than a reckless fool."

Lorian clenched his fists. The familiar surge of shame and frustration rose inside him, but he forced himself to meet his father's gaze.

"While you were brawling in a filthy tavern, your sister—your heir—was being accepted into the Royal Academy early. Not because of her connections, but because of her raw talent and mastery over the magical arts," Thaddeus said, his tone laced with pride that stabbed at Lorian's already wounded heart. "Elara will be leaving for the capital, Valeria, to begin her training. And you—" he paused, letting the weight of his next words sink in— "will be going with her."

Lorian’s breath hitched. His father's words hung in the air. For a moment, a flicker of hope sparked in his chest—was he being given another chance to prove himself?

But then Thaddeus continued, his expression darkening. "You will not be going as a student." His voice dripped with disdain. "You will be barred from participating in the Grand Melee."

The blow hit Lorian harder than any physical strike. The Grand Melee, the prestigious competition in Valeria where the most talented fighters and magic users displayed their skills, was one of the few things he had been looking forward to. It was supposed to be his chance to prove himself, to show that he wasn't just a failure in his father's eyes. But now, that hope was gone.

"No," Thaddeus went on, his voice sharp and final. "Instead, you will accompany Elara as her Shieldbearer."

Lorian blinked, confused and paralyzed by the words. Shieldbearer—the ancient title was a mark of servitude, a protector bound to serve another. It was an honor in theory, but in practice, it was a humiliating position for the son of House Aeloria, meant to elevate Elara while diminishing him. His father had not only stripped him of his future but reduced him to nothing more than a shadow.

"And make no mistake," Thaddeus said, stepping closer to loom over him, "you are there to ensure Elara's rise to greatness. You will support her, serve her, and make sure that your failures do not tarnish her path."

Lorian’s throat tightened, words forming but refusing to leave his mouth. The shock, the humiliation, the anger—it all swirled inside him, choking him. For the first time in his life, he had no words to respond.

The silence was shattered when Caelan, who had remained silent beside Lorian throughout the exchange, finally spoke up. "My lord, with respect, Lorian doesn't deserve—"

Before he could finish, Thaddeus's aura flared—an intense, suffocating force of magical energy that filled the small jail cell. Caelan's words were cut short as he gasped, falling back a step under the weight of Thaddeus's presence. The guards shifted uneasily, and even the air seemed to thrum with power. Lorian could feel it pressing down on him too, but he remained motionless, still too stunned to react.

"You will speak when spoken to, boy," Thaddeus said coldly, his eyes locking onto Caelan with such ferocity that the younger man paled. "Your loyalty is commendable, but do not forget your place."

Caelan fell silent, his face pale, his eyes darting toward Lorian in apology, but Lorian didn't meet his gaze. He couldn't. The weight of his father's decision and the shame of what had just transpired hung too heavily on him.

Thaddeus turned back to the guards, his voice calm once more, as though nothing had happened. "Keep them here for a few more hours. Let them dwell on their mistakes." His words carried an unmistakable edge, meant for Lorian just as much as Caelan. "Then release them. They'll need to be ready for tomorrow."

Without another glance at his son, Thaddeus strode out of the cell, leaving Lorian and Caelan in stunned silence.

As the heavy door clanged shut behind him, Lorian remained seated, his mind reeling. He had been stripped of everything—his honor, his chance at the Grand Melee, even his identity within the family. Tomorrow, he would travel to Valeria, not as the heir, not even as a student, but as his sister's Shieldbearer, her protector, her shadow.

He had no voice left to speak, no strength to argue. But somewhere deep inside, a quiet, smoldering anger began to stir. He would find a way to make this right—somehow.

The cell was quiet, save for the low flicker of the torch burning just beyond the bars. Lorian barely moved, his mind swimming in the stillness. He wasn't thinking about his father anymore. His father's disappointment, the family's expectations—those things had lost their hold over him. Instead, his thoughts turned to Captain Aric, the man who had believed in him when no one else had.

Aric had taught him discipline, had instilled in him the values of honor and restraint. And Lorian had thrown it all away in a single night of recklessness. He hadn't just let himself down—he had let Aric down, too. That truth weighed more heavily than anything his father could say.

A shift in the silence drew Lorian's attention. Across the cell, Caelan sat hunched over, his head in his hands. He hadn't spoken since Thaddeus left, but the guilt radiated off him. Finally, Caelan sighed deeply and looked over at Lorian.

"I'm sorry," Caelan said, his voice low. "I never should have dragged you out last night. I thought... I thought it'd be good to celebrate after everything." His eyes were filled with regret. "But I didn't think it'd come to this. I just... I should've known better."

Lorian turned to look at his friend, and for a moment, he felt a pang of guilt—not for the fight, but for how much Caelan was blaming himself. "This isn't your fault," Lorian said, his voice rough but steady. He leaned forward, shaking his head. "I wanted to go. I needed to get out of the estate. You did what any good friend would do—try to cheer me up."

Caelan grimaced, shaking his head. "Yeah, but look where it got you. Thaddeus banning you from the Grand Melee... making you Elara's Shieldbearer. It's not right."

Lorian exhaled slowly. "Caelan, I didn't fight because you brought me to the tavern. I fought because I couldn't stand being in my own head anymore. I'm the one who lost control. Not you."

The words felt heavy, but they were true. Lorian knew, deep down, that this wasn't about his father's approval or the expectations placed on him. It was about his own anger—anger at himself for always feeling like the lesser son, the failure. Aric had tried to teach him better, but in one moment of carelessness, he had thrown all of that away.

Caelan leaned back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling with a wry smile. "Well, I guess we're both pretty good at messing things up, huh?"

Lorian chuckled lightly, despite the weight of everything pressing down on him. "Yeah, maybe we are. But don't think for a second I blame you. You're the best friend I've got."

Caelan glanced at him, a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes. "Thanks for saying that. But it still doesn't sit right with me. You should be in the Melee, showing them what you can do. Not playing second to your sister."

Lorian let out a slow breath. "It doesn't matter. The Melee's not the path for me anymore." He wasn't sure he believed his own words, but they were the truth for now. "My father's made sure of that."

Caelan frowned but didn't press further. He knew that once Lorian had made up his mind, there wasn't much else to say. Still, the sense of injustice lingered between them, unspoken but palpable.

As the hours stretched on, Lorian's thoughts drifted back to Captain Aric again. What would he say if he knew what had happened? Would he understand? Would he be disappointed?

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. It was the thought of Aric, more than anything, that stung. Lorian had always cared about his approval, about living up to the ideals Aric had set for him. That was where the real shame lay. Not in failing to live up to his father's impossible standards, but in failing to live up to Aric's quiet belief in him.

"I'll make it right," Lorian whispered, more to himself than to Caelan. "Somehow."

Caelan tilted his head. "What was that?"

Lorian shook his head, pushing himself up from the cold stone floor. "Nothing. Just... thinking."

Before Caelan could ask more, the guards returned, opening the cell door with a loud creak. One of them glanced at the two of them and spoke curtly. "You're free to go. Don't make us regret it."

Lorian nodded but said nothing as he and Caelan stepped out into the hallway, the cold air of the night brushing against their faces as they were led out of the jail.

The city streets were quiet, the remnants of the previous night's revelry fading into the distant memory of dawn. Lorian walked beside Caelan, the weight of his father's words still heavy on his shoulders. Tomorrow, he would leave for Valeria with Elara. But not as a student, not as someone bound for greatness—he would leave as her Shieldbearer. A protector in title, a shadow in practice.

Caelan glanced at him as they walked. "What happens next?"

Lorian exhaled, his breath visible in the cold morning air. "I don't know. We go to Valeria. I play the part. Support Elara, like my father expects."

"But that's not you, Lorian," Caelan said, his voice almost pleading. "You're not just... a servant."

"No," Lorian said quietly, his voice low and determined. "I'm not. But that's how they want to see me. And if that's the role I have to play, I'll play it—for now."

Caelan didn't push further. He could hear the edge of defiance in Lorian's voice, a fire that hadn't quite died despite everything that had happened.

As they reached the outskirts of the estate, Lorian stopped, turning to look at his friend. "Thanks for sticking with me," he said, his voice softer now. "And don't ever think I regret going out. You did what a good friend should do. If anything, I needed it more than I realized."

Caelan gave him a crooked smile. "Well, if that's the case, I guess I'm the best bad influence you could ask for."

Lorian managed a small, genuine smile in return. "Something like that."

Together, they walked in silence through the quiet streets, the weight of the night still hanging over them. As they neared the edge of the city, where the towering walls of the Aeloria estate loomed in the distance, Caelan slowed his steps.

"Well," Caelan said, glancing sideways at Lorian with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, "this is where the noble heir returns to his palace, and the humble commoner slinks back to his rat-infested hovel."

Lorian snorted, shaking his head. "You live in a decent house, Caelan. No rats."

"Ah, you've got me there," Caelan said with a mock sigh. "No rats. A tragedy, really. Keeps the place from having any real character."

Lorian's lips twitched upward, though the weight of the conversation with his father still pressed heavily on his mind.

"Anyway," Caelan continued, his tone shifting slightly, "you sure you don't want to crash at my place for a bit? I mean, it's not a palace, but there's enough room for a fallen noble. I've even got a couple of blankets that aren't scratchy."

Lorian gave a faint smile, appreciating the offer, but shook his head. "I need to go back. Tomorrow's... tomorrow, after all."

Caelan grimaced, the joking slipping away from his face for a moment. "Yeah. Tomorrow." He let out a breath, ruffling his hair. "Well, you know, if you need anything—anything at all—you can just show up. Day or night. I've got snacks. A bit of terrible wine. Moral support."

Lorian looked at his friend, feeling a warmth in his chest despite everything. "Thanks, Caelan. Really. But this mess... it's mine to figure out. I appreciate everything, though. I mean it."

Caelan nodded, but not before firing off another grin. "Alright, fine. Just know that when you get tired of being your sister's 'glorious Shieldbearer,' you can always come help me with my rat problem that doesn't exist. Could be a nice change of pace."

Lorian chuckled softly. "I'll keep that in mind."

They stopped at the crossroads where their paths would diverge. Caelan looked at the sprawling estate in the distance and then back at Lorian. "Seriously, though," he said, his voice softening. "Don't hesitate to drop by if you need to get away from all this. I'll keep the wine terrible just for you."

"I'll survive," Lorian said, his smile small but sincere. "And don't think I regret going out tonight. You did what any good friend would do—try to help me forget for a bit."

"Yeah, well," Caelan said with a shrug, "next time, maybe we'll find a place that doesn't end in brawls and jail time. Although, honestly, jail's not that bad. Quiet. Cozy. Good for reflection."

"Yeah, I'll pass on that."

Caelan laughed, then clapped Lorian on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself. And don't let them keep you down. You're a lot stronger than you think, Lorian. Even if it feels like everything's stacked against you right now."

Lorian nodded, feeling that warmth of friendship again, even as the heaviness of tomorrow loomed ahead. "Thanks. For everything."

Caelan flashed him one last grin. "Anytime. Now go be the best Shieldbearer Valeria's ever seen." He gave a mock salute. "See you in Valeria. I'll find my way there somehow. Probably won't involve brawling next time, though no promises."

With that, Caelan turned and began walking back toward the heart of the city, his carefree steps masking the concern still lingering in his gaze.

Lorian watched his friend disappear into the shadows of the winding streets, feeling the faintest tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth. But as the echo of Caelan's footsteps faded, the cold reality of the estate ahead pulled him back.

The path ahead was empty, the early morning mist beginning to creep along the edges of the stone road. Each step he took echoed in the quiet, the faintest whisper of the city fading behind him.

Lorian's thoughts turned inward once more, circling back to the decision that awaited him. Shieldbearer. His father had spoken the word with such finality, as if Lorian's fate had been sealed. But could he truly resign himself to that role?

The estate gates loomed before him now, cold and imposing, just like everything else in his family. He slipped through them quietly, the guards giving him little more than a passing glance as he made his way through the familiar, winding gardens.

There was no pride in returning here, only the gnawing realization that tomorrow he would leave this place—not as the man he had once imagined, but as a servant to the very destiny his father had crafted for Elara.

But Lorian's mind continued to churn, the smoldering ember of defiance flickering beneath the weight of everything pressing down on him. He wasn't just disappointed in his father's decision; he was angry with himself, with his inability to live up to the standards Captain Aric had set for him.

As he reached the main doors of the estate, he stopped, taking in the towering stone structure in front of him. His father's words still echoed in his mind, but Lorian pushed them aside. Thaddeus could cast him in the shadow of Elara, but Lorian knew deep down that his journey was not over.

With one last glance at the dark sky above, Lorian pushed open the doors to the estate and stepped inside, the cold halls awaiting him.