The tension in the dining hall was stifling, thick enough to cut with a knife. The room remained quiet, save for the faint, rhythmic clinking of cutlery against porcelain as those seated forced themselves to focus on their meals. Even that small sound seemed too loud in the queen’s presence, her very aura making the atmosphere all the more unbearable. Five people sat around the long dining table, yet not a single word had been exchanged for what felt like an eternity.

The day Nheera had been quietly dreading since news of the rescued people reached the palace was finally upon her. Later that day, the king would hold court with the gathered courtiers to discuss Ragnar’s deeds. She wished, more than anything, that she could simply absent herself from the proceedings altogether.

She knew better. Publicly praising Ragnar would not be enough for the king; it never was. He would seize the opportunity, as he always did, to parade his bastard’s success before the court and, in the same breath, measure it against her sons’ shortcomings. It would be a spectacle carefully crafted to spite her. It would not be the first time he had done such a thing, and it most certainly would not be the last.

"I would like to let you know that I will not be there when Father meets with the courtiers." Hairan’s voice cut through the silence. He did not bother to glance up from his plate, his cutlery gripped tightly in his hands as though he needed something to hold onto in order to stop him from venting out his frustrations. "I would rather not waste my time watching him fawn over his bastard. I have far better things to do."

"No." Nheera’s response was immediate, delivered bluntly and she offered no further explanation. The single word fell cold and final between them.

Hairan slowly lifted his head, his gaze locking onto his mother, who sat at the head of the table several chairs away. A faint frown tugged at his brows, disbelief flickering across his features.

"What did you say?" he asked, his tone edged incredulity. He wanted to hear her repeat it, if only to be certain that he had not misunderstood.

"What is so difficult for you to understand?" Nheera replied, meeting his stare with a bored one of her own. "You asked if you could absent yourself from court, and I said no. It is quite straightforward."

Hairan let out a quiet, humorless scoff, setting his cutlery down with a muted clatter. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

"And what do you suppose I do?" he pressed, frustration bleeding more clearly into his voice now. "Stand there in the throne room and listen to Father list all of Ragnar’s accomplishments while reminding me how lacking mine are in comparison?" His jaw tightened. "Thank you, but I would rather not."

He could already picture it, just like the last time, when Ragnar had ambushed the rebel encampment and captured their leader. The praise, the admiration, the subtle comparisons. It had all been insufferable. He had no desire to endure it again. Especially given the fact that Hairan had spent countless years of his life seeking his father’s approval, even when it always felt out of reach.

"True kings do not tuck their tails and run at the first sign of discomfort," Nheera said coolly. She understood her son’s reasoning. She had also considered avoiding the proceedings altogether. But she also understood the cost of such absence.

"If we all must stand there and watch him applaud his bastard," she continued, her voice steady and unwavering, "then that is precisely what we will do."

Their absence would not go unnoticed. The court thrived on gossip and speculation, and any perceived slight or weakness would be seized upon and twisted into something far more damaging. Avoidance would not protect them, it would only make them appear small.

"You speak as if Ragnar doesn’t deserve whatever praise father will offer him." Jayran’s voice broke into the exchange. Until that moment, he had remained silent, his attention seemingly fixed on his meal. Now, he finally looked up, his gaze shifting between his mother and brother. "He single-handedly solved the very problem that has plagued this kingdom for months. A problem that, if I recall correctly, Father himself was unable to resolve. And since then, there have been no further reports of people going missing. I would say he has more than earned that praise."

His gaze dropped briefly to his half-eaten meal, though he made no move to continue eating. His appetite had long since faded, worn away by the sharp tension in the room and the bitterness lacing every word exchanged. Listening to Hairan and their mother speak as though Ragnar’s accomplishments were some personal affront had become increasingly unbearable.

The corners of Nheera’s mouth tightened ever so slightly, the only visible sign of her irritation. Otherwise, her composure remained perfectly intact.

"I do not care what he has done," she said sharply. "He could single-handedly rescue a hundred children from drowning in a frozen lake, and it would change nothing." Her gaze shifted, settling fully on Jayran now, her eyes narrowing just enough to carry a warning. "He is a bastard. That alone renders him irrelevant."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop further as her voice lowered, turning dangerous. "I sincerely hope that your defense of him is not born from any lingering loyalty. Because I assure you, it will not end well for you if it is. I will make certain of that."

The weight of her words settled heavily over the table, her threat unmistakable.

Nheera pushed her chair back and rose gracefully to her feet, her gaze lingering on her youngest son for a moment longer before she finally looked away.

"Elka," she called softly, her tone shifting to something more gentle. "Come with me, my dear."

Without hesitation, Elka rose from her seat. Though her plate remained unfinished, she did not protest, nor did she so much as glance back. Like a dutiful daughter-in-law, she followed the queen out of the dining hall. In recent days, Nheera had taken to keeping Elka constantly at her side, treating her less like family and more like one of her ladies in waiting.

A moment later, Hairan stood as well. Without another word, he turned and strode out of the hall, his expression dark, his anger barely contained. The heavy doors closed behind him, leaving only Jayran and Azul seated at the table, surrounded by half-eaten meals and abandoned chairs.

A few minutes had passed since their mother’s exit, and yet Jayran still glared at the door she left through.

"Had you been anyone else, that look on your face would have surely landed you in trouble," Azul said, his tone calm but edged with quiet warning.

"She is unbearable," Jayran forced the words out through gritted teeth. But Azul didn’t seem fazed by his brother’s irritation.

"Most people can’t stand her, so you won’t be the first," Azul replied evenly. "But unbearable or not, she’s still our mother. Neither of us can change that." He turned his gaze fully on his twin, his expression becoming more serious. "There are much smarter ways to disagree with her. What you said today was very reckless. I wouldn’t do it again if I were you."

"I have never wanted to be you," Jayran shot back.

Azul didn’t seem offended in the slightest. If anything, there was the faintest trace of indifference in his expression.

"And it’s a good thing too."