A Few Days Earlier

"Absolutely out of the question!" Atlantis growled, his voice echoing through the chamber. His golden eyes burned with angry fire, the molten intensity of his glare fixed on the hunched figure before him.

Destan leaned against the polished black stone wall, his expression unreadable, though a flicker of amusement danced in his diamond-blue eyes. Aceso stood beside him, her hand resting protectively over her growing belly, her lips pressed into a thin line as she watched her husband's calm demeanor contrast with Atlantis's boiling rage.

"It must be done," Aceso murmured, her voice soft but firm. Her fingers absently traced circles over her stomach as she glanced at the sorcerer crumpled in chains. "The Diamond Goddess has decreed it."

Atlantis turned his furious gaze on her, his golden eyes sharp and cutting. He inhaled deeply, his anger momentarily tempered by respect for the queen. Still, the tension in his broad shoulders remained as taut as a bowstring. He turned his attention back to Elric, his lip curling in disgust.

The prisoner sat slumped against the cold stone floor, his wrists shackled, and his head hung low. Dark hair clung to his sweat-slicked face, and his hollow eyes darted nervously between his captors. He looked more like a broken shadow of a man than a threat, but Atlantis's hand still tightened around his spear.

"This is absurd," Atlantis spat. "He's a danger to everyone here. You're asking me to trust the man who nearly killed Morgan and betrayed entire kingdoms?"

Morgan chuckled softly, his lithe frame drifting gracefully across the room to stand by Atlantis's side. He slid an arm through Atlantis's, the warmth of his touch enough to momentarily cool the prince's fury. "It's all right, love," Morgan said, his green, cat-like eyes glinting with quiet amusement. "This is necessary."

"Necessary?" Atlantis growled, his voice low and dangerous. His spear remained firmly gripped in his hand. "And what happens when he turns on us again?"

Morgan raised a hand, gesturing toward Elric, who flinched under the attention. "Look at him," Morgan said, his voice laced with pity. "He's too tormented to harm anyone. Whatever loyalty he had to his master is gone. All that's left is regret."

Atlantis frowned but said nothing, his jaw clenching tightly as he stared at the pathetic figure before him. His heart told him Morgan might be right, but his instincts screamed otherwise. Trusting Elric was a gamble he wasn't willing to take.

Destan, who had been watching the exchange in silence, reached into a leather bag at his side and produced a pair of ornate handcuffs. They shimmered faintly, runes etched into the silver metal glowing with subtle light.

"These will help," Destan said, leaning forward. His calm voice carried the weight of authority. "They suppress magic. With these on, he'll be powerless."

Atlantis snatched the cuffs from Destan's outstretched hand, holding them up to inspect the runes. The glow seemed to intensify under his golden gaze. His fingers tightened around the cuffs as he turned to Aceso, his voice colder now. "What else did this Diamond Goddess say?"

Aceso hesitated, her eyes flicking toward Destan before returning to Atlantis. "The Goddess said Elric's path is intertwined with ours. She didn't say why, only that he is essential to what's to come."

Atlantis's laugh was bitter and humorless. "Essential? The last time we trusted him, he left destruction in his wake. Do you not remember?"

"I remember," Aceso said quietly, her eyes softening. "But the Goddess sees farther than we do. There are forces at work we cannot understand. We must trust her."

"Trust her?" Atlantis barked. "I'm supposed to trust this broken shell of a man because of a prophecy?"

"He has to atone," Aceso said firmly, her voice steady. "He has a part to play in this. It's not for us to question why."

Atlantis glared at her, then at Destan, before his gaze settled on Morgan. The witch met his eyes with a calm, unwavering expression.

Morgan reached up, brushing his fingers against Atlantis's cheek. "I trust you," Morgan said softly. "And I trust the Goddess. This is bigger than us, love. We must take this chance."

Atlantis closed his eyes for a moment, the tension in his shoulders finally loosening as he exhaled a slow, measured breath. "If he steps out of line," Atlantis murmured, his voice deadly, "I won't hesitate to kill him."

"Understood," Destan said, inclining his head.

Atlantis crouched down in front of Elric, holding the cuffs inches from the man's face. "Put these on," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

Elric's eyes flickered with fear and something else—resignation. His trembling hands moved forward, and the cold metal snapped around his wrists. The runes flared brightly for a moment before fading to a dull glow.

"Thank you," Elric said, his voice hoarse, barely audible.

Atlantis's lip curled in disdain. "Don't thank me. You're not forgiven. Not yet."

He straightened, turning to Destan and Aceso, "Don't expect me to babysit him."

With that, he strode toward the exit, his spear clutched tightly in his hand. Morgan lingered for a moment, his green eyes flicking between Elric and the others.

"Come along, love," Atlantis called, his voice softening slightly.

Morgan smiled faintly, giving Destan a small nod before following the prince. The tension in the room lingered like smoke, heavy and suffocating. Aceso glanced at Elric, who sat motionless on the floor, his shoulders slumped.

"We all have a role to play," Aceso said quietly, her hand resting once more on her stomach. "Even you."

Elric didn't respond. The only sound in the chamber was the faint hum of the runes, a constant reminder of the fragile truce they had just forged

******

Elegance draped over the scene, the soft light of the amber lanterns casting a warm glow over the intricately carved walls of Ava's private chambers. She could feel the muscles of her lover shift beneath her fingertips as their bodies collided, his deep groan echoing in her ears. Large, calloused hands gripped her hips with possessive strength, and his hot lips trailed hungrily along the curve of her neck. Ava let out a soft cry as she reached her climax, her nails sinking into Ro's taut skin.

Their breaths slowed into quiet pants, the intensity of their union giving way to a momentary silence. Their legs unwound, tails slowly reforming in place of limbs as their arousals subsided. Ro leaned back against the headboard, his amber tail catching the light, still halfway between its shift.

A sudden knock shattered the stillness, its urgency cutting through the quiet intimacy.

"Your Majesty?" came a timid voice from the other side of the door.

Ava sighed, her composure slipping back into place like a well-worn mask. "What is it, Grara?" she called, reaching for the amber-hued robe draped across her nightstand.

"Your royal advisor requests your presence," Grara replied hesitantly.

Ava rolled her eyes, irritation bubbling under her carefully maintained exterior. "Tell Fro I'll be there shortly."

She slipped the robe over her shoulders, tying it securely at her waist. As she turned to leave, Ro's voice stopped her.

"My queen," he murmured, his tone honeyed and seductive. "Do you wish to make love again? To relieve the stress that seems to weigh on you?" He leaned back lazily, a satisfied smirk gracing his features as he gestured toward himself.

Ava's lips curled in disgust, her tone cold and clipped. "Let's be clear, Ro. We didn't 'make love,' as you so eloquently put it. It was just sex. An itch we both needed to scratch."

The smirk vanished from Ro's face, replaced by a stormy expression. His lips parted as if to protest, but Ava cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"I want you gone by the time I return," she said sharply, her voice brooking no argument.

Ava swept from the room, her handmaidens falling into step beside her as they prepared her for the day. Jewels adorned her neck and arms, and amber paint traced intricate patterns along her smooth skin. By the time she reached the grand doors of her library, she was every inch the queen her kingdom expected her to be.

The doors swung open with a groan, and her servants scattered like minnows in the presence of her commanding stride. Fro, her royal advisor, floated near the shelves, his slender frame leaning casually against the wall as his sharp eyes darted over the scrolls.

"It's necessary you take a mate," Fro said after a moment, his voice calm but insistent.

Ava ignored him, her focus on the scattered documents littering her desk. "The council is growing weary of your... encounters," Fro added, his tone measured but laced with judgment.

"I'm young, Fro," Ava said with a huff, brushing aside the comment. "I wish to live a little before settling down."

"The council fears the rumors," Fro pressed, adjusting his gold circlet. "They whisper of a child born out of wedlock. You know they won't accept a bastard heir."

Ava shot him a glare, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "I take special care to avoid such complications. I am not my father, nor will I let his failures dictate my reign. My focus is on restoring this kingdom, not playing house for the council's peace of mind."

Fro shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, but his voice remained steady. "Your Majesty, an heir would stabilize the kingdom. It would provide reassurance to the people, to the nobles."

Ava massaged her temples, her patience fraying. "Let them suffer a little longer. I will choose when I'm ready to take a mate and have a child. Not them."

Fro sighed, sensing the futility of pressing further. Instead, he pulled a sealed letter from his satchel and placed it on her desk. "Then perhaps this news will interest you. The Onyx King has found a mate and forged alliances with the Emerald and Diamond Kingdoms. They've invited you to the wedding."

Ava's frown deepened as she broke the seal, her brown eyes scanning the elegantly penned words:

You are cordially invited to the wedding of His Royal Majesty Caspian of the Onyx and his mate, Marcus.

Ava's lips quirked in amusement. Marcus, she thought, the name rolling oddly through her mind. "What a strange name," she murmured.

"This could be an opportunity," Fro suggested. "The Onyx Kingdom is reopening its gates. Trade negotiations could benefit us greatly—luxury goods for weapons, perhaps."

Ava nodded thoughtfully. "Prepare an escort. Ensure the finest gifts of our kingdom are sent with us. We'll make an impression."

"As you wish, Your Majesty." Fro bowed and left, his movements efficient and silent.

As the door closed, Ava's gaze lingered on the invitation. A strange feeling tugged at her chest, a sense of something waiting for her beyond the black gates of the Onyx Kingdom.

"Ava?" a soft, familiar voice broke her reverie.

She turned to find a timid figure peeking out from behind a curtain. Blonde hair framed delicate, almost ethereal features, and large brown eyes brimmed with adoration. A thin gold circlet adorned his head, and a matching necklace rested on his collarbone.

"What are you doing hiding back there?" Ava asked with a chuckle, patting her lap. "Come here."

He hesitated before moving toward her, his slender frame slipping easily into her embrace. His golden tail glittered under the soft light as he tucked himself against her chest.

"Did you hear everything?" she asked, stroking his hair.

He nodded shyly, his voice small. "Will you be leaving?"

"I have to," Ava replied, her fingers brushing through his soft locks. "But you won't be alone."

His head shot up, his eyes wide with hope. "I get to go with you?"

Ava smiled, cupping his face in her hands. "Of course, my little spy. What disguise shall you wear this time?"

His lips curved into a mischievous grin. "How about a slave?"

Ava laughed softly, her thumb brushing over his lips. "Very well. But remember to stay out of sight."

He kissed her cheek before darting off, his golden tail vanishing into the shadows.

Moments later, a knock sounded at the door. Her handmaidens entered, carrying armfuls of fabrics and jewels. "Your Majesty, what shall we prepare for your journey?"

Ava sighed, her regal mask slipping back into place. "Let us begin."

As her attendants busied themselves, Ava's thoughts drifted back to the invitation, the name Marcus, and the curious pull that seemed to beckon her toward the Onyx Kingdom.