7. Dutys Chains, Destinys Call
CHAPTER 7
Duty's Chains, Destiny's Call
Hawke Stormblood
By the time I leave Camelot, night has draped its cloak over the land, shrouding my journey to Vandimoor—the largest of all Fae cities on Avalon, and my home just a couple hours from the castle.
The ride is uneventful, no signs of distress from fellow travelers and no sign of the beast that hunts along the road and has been stalking our city over the last few months.
I hand my horse over to a stable boy and venture into the solace of my mother’s gardens, my steps guided by the familiar well worn stone path. The gardens, veiled in moonlight, are a silvery realm of peace after the chaos of my day. The sweet fragrance of night-blooming jasmine permeates the air like a ghostly whisper. These gardens are filled with memories of childhood laughter and my mother’s tender smiles. But the gravity of my impending kingship and other worries, like the woman in my vision, dampens the joy I usually enjoy by walking through here.
My heart races. My jaw clenches. I fight the internal battle growing inside me. The vision of the woman, her face etched with fear and desperation, haunts me, her pleas tug at my soul, calling me. I need her. It’s become a silent scream in the face of the duties that loom ahead. Need her. Need her. Need her.
There’s also the weight of my impending coronation. It presses on me like a tangible force, gnawing with sharp teeth, a relentless reminder of my deepest fear–the feral nature lurking within, threatening to break free.
My hands tremble slightly. I make a fist and take a deep breath. The thought of failing my people, of succumbing to the darkness… there is no worse outcome in my mind than in becoming king, I become the monster I fear most.
The Changing of the Guard ceremony looms near. In just two days, Camelot will slip from my grasp, falling under the complete control of the Upir.
In five days my father relinquishes his crown and the weight of the Fae kingdom will rest on my shoulders. Whatever is going on with me in my head needs to be put right.
And quickly.
I straighten up, squaring my shoulders. The fear remains, but so does my resolve. I am Hawke Stormblood, heir to the bloodline that created Camelot itself. Rising to this challenge isn't just an option—it's the only path forward.
I make my way through the rest of the gardens up to the private family door into the palace. The quiet of night is replaced by the low hum of activity. Servants glide through the grand corridors. The rich history of our people, captured in portraits and tapestries, looks down at me. Their silent judgment, whether real or imagined, is a heavy cloak around my shoulders.
The flickering torches on the walls cast a warm glow on the ancient stone, creating a dance of light and shadow that plays upon the intricate carvings and statues lining this hallway.
The scent of burning pine from the hearths mingles with the faint aroma of jasmine trailing in from the gardens.
I pass clusters of advisors and nobles, their hushed conversations put my mind on alert. They recognize me, the heir apparent. They give respectful nods, but they don’t trust me yet, not really. It will take time to earn their respect and loyalty.
The sound of a quill scratching on parchment seeps through the heavy oak door of my father's study. I push it open and enter, each step heavy with the weight of the conversation to come.
The striking room, with its high ceilings and shelves lined with ancient books my family saved when we fled Earth, envelops me in a sense of purpose and destiny. His study holds important history. This is where the future of the Fae people has been shaped for the last two millennia.
This is the room where I will eventually plan how the Fae will finally return to Earth after so many centuries in exile… if I can keep my mind from shattering into a thousand pieces.
One step at a time. One problem at a time. One solution at a time.
"Hawke," he says, my name carrying the full weight of his authority in that single, loaded utterance.
I hesitate at the threshold—a knot tightening in my stomach. “Father,” I reply, my voice soft but firm. I refuse to let on how unstable I currently am.
He closes a book with deliberate slowness, the sound resonating in the quiet room. His eyes, usually so full of fire, now hold a flicker of something similar to sorrow.
“I heard about your incident at the Earth door,” he says, his voice measured and even. His fingers drum against the desk, a rhythmic tapping that seems to mirror my racing heart. His gaze is intense. He knows. He knows what happened earlier.
Of course he does. Why would I think my incident would remain unknown to my father–to the king of the Fae.
“It was a vision, nothing more.” I say, choosing my words carefully. I purposefully stand still, refusing to shift my stance beneath his scrutinizing gaze.
He studies me for a moment, his expression as unreadable as I hope mine is. “We cannot afford such distractions. They said you touched the Earth Realm door,” he continues. “They said you fell to the ground like it hurt you.”
“I am well, father, and I understand.” I speak with confidence I don’t possess at the moment, each word is like a stone in my mouth. “Yggdrasil was trying to show me something. There was a woman. I think she was on the other side of one of the Earth Realm doors. She was scared. Something terrible was happening around her. She was begging me to help her open the door.”
He shakes his head and releases a low sigh. “My son, Earth is banned. You cannot dream of what cannot be. The High Council would have your head and where would the Fae people be without their prince? Without their future king?”
I bow my head respectfully, gritting my teeth against telling him my concerns. I cannot show him weakness. “It is not that simple, father.”
“Yes it is.” His voice is harsher. “You must put this from your mind. The mystery woman. The vision. Everything. Your mother and I have arranged a strong marriage for you. Vencia Darkwood will make a good wife. She will help you be a good king. And it will give our family good standing with the High Council.”
I suck in an angry breath. That’s a lie. Vencia may look good on the outside, but she’s vapid and shallow. She won’t make a good wife or a good queen. “Father, you know how I feel about this match. We’ve talked about it before. It won’t work. I don’t want Vencia.”
“You haven’t brought your mother or I a suitable replacement. Therefore the alliance with the Darkwoods stands. They are a strong family. They have a member sitting on the High Council. You need to think about our family’s position, Hawke.” He sinks into the great leather chair behind his desk and runs his hands through his long silver hair. The beads in his braids clink together.
“Being king isn’t just about getting what you want, it’s about understanding every thread that weaves our people together. Every thread that connects all eight worlds,” he says, his voice quieter now. He’s trying to diffuse the situation. Trying to trigger the deep responsibility he knows I feel to our people and plight. It’s a low blow and strategic of him, but I refuse to let him win on this.
I take a step closer to the desk and put my hands down on the front edge. I lean toward him, holding his gaze. “Father, I know. That’s why I’m against the marriage. Becoming King…the responsibility and power of the position is enormous and important. Vencia will be a weakness, not an asset.”
My father shakes his head. “She will give our crown security. This is not a negotiation.”
My mouth twists into a sneer for a moment before I’m able to flatten it back out and respond respectfully without anger. “Everything is a negotiation, father. Tell her family no . I will not be marrying her. You and mother can bring someone else to the table or I will, but it won’t be Vencia Darkwood.”
I swallow hard, my thoughts racing. Becoming king, shouldering that responsibility while battling my own inner demons—it's daunting. I can't let my feral nature take over, can't let it control me. I have to be strong, for my people, for my kingdom, and for the woman in my vision—the one my very soul insists holds the key to my destiny.
I know she is, I just can’t argue that point with my father. He’ll never accept an unknown as a possibility. So I have to figure out how to make the woman from my vision a known quantity.
My father and I stare in silence at each other for a moment until the door swings open and my mother sweeps in like a fresh-jasmine-filled breeze.
“Oh, excellent. I’ve got you both. Hawke, have you spoken with the cooks at Camelot about the updated feast menu for the Ceremony?” she asks, her voice light but carrying an undertone of importance. She walks gracefully toward us, her eyes briefly connecting with my gaze, communicating a mixture of concern and affection.
She touches my arm and leans against my side. “I heard about the… incident ,” she adds softly. “Are you well, my son? I wanted to be here when your father spoke with you. I see I’m probably too late.”
“I am well, mother,” I say, forcing a smile for her benefit.
“Then why do you two look like you want to draw swords and duel? We don’t have time for this. The Ceremony is in two days and the coronation in five. Everything must be perfect for the Changing of the Guard, we can’t let personal problems affect such a significant event. Our guests expect more from the Fae, not less. We have to over-deliver. What about the guest quarters?”
“Everything is moving along well. Destrien and I are on top of it.”
She smiles, seemingly satisfied with the response. “Good. Good. I know you likely have it well in hand, I just worry about these things. Having these two events so close together is stressful.
“The Ceremony and the Coronation will be excellent, Isolde. We will all make sure of it, my love.” My father’s voice is softer for my mother, reassuring.
“I hear you trying to dismiss me, Theon, but it won’t work. Every single servant and noble in the corridor heard you arguing about the Darkwoods.”
I wince, wishing I’d considered we likely had eavesdroppers. But I prefer not to lie, so if my stance against the marriage filters into the public, so be it. I’ll never pretend Vencia is a good match.
She turns to me and puts a gentle hand to my cheek. “My son, this is the best alliance we can make for you and for the good of all Fae.”
I take her hand from my face and gently press it between mine. “No, it is not. I can’t explain to you how I know, but I need you to trust me. Both of you. The marriage with Vencia is the worst thing that could happen. I just need time.”
“We’ve already discussed terms with her parents. They are expecting an announcement at the Changing of the Guard ceremony.” My father’s exasperated tone makes me grind my teeth together.
He’s going to do this whether I like it or not. And it's going to get even uglier, because I’ll end the engagement after the coronation and it will embarrass them both. And they will be so angry and disappointed, but they just don’t understand what’s really at stake. I won’t risk losing my soul and going mad to make our family’s political position better.
My mother squeezes my hand. “Son, this is part of being heir. Sacrifice comes with responsibility.”
I wish I could explain everything to her… to both of them. But I can’t risk them thinking I’m not capable of being king. It’s everything I’ve been raised for my whole life. I want it. I will be an amazing king. Our people need me.
“I just need a little more time.” I turn to look at my father. “Just don’t announce it. Not yet. Please.”
The air in the room thickens, charged with unspoken words and the weight of my impending responsibility. My father’s gaze is steady, but behind his eyes I sense a turmoil that mirror my own. He wants to give me what I’m asking for, but struggles against the duty of his position.
My mother’s touch is gentle, yet insistent, her concern for our family’s legacy is palpable.
I’m about to speak again when a sudden, inexplicable feeling washes over me–a familiar sensation. The same driving need. An urge that’s both compelling and unnerving. Something or someone is calling to me, resonating with the very core of my being.
“I… I have to go,” I murmur, more to myself than to my parents. The sensation is growing stronger, pulling me towards something I don’t yet understand. It’s similar to the feeling that drew me to the Earth Realm door, but this time, it’s different, stronger, more urgent.
My father’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Hawke, what is it?”
I shake my head, struggling to articulate the feeling. “It’s the door… perhaps, or something like it. I need to see it again. There’s something I have to find out.” The words tumble out in a rush, my heart pounding hard in my chest.
I squeeze my mother’s hand and then release it.
My mother’s blue eyes are filled with worry, but there’s a flicker of understanding there too. “Be careful, Hawke,” she says softly. “The monster hasn’t been seen in a week. Riding at night is dangerous.”
“I’ll be careful.” I assure her automatically, barely registering both their concerned glances as I turn and hurry from the room. The halls of the palace and the people in them blur past me. All I know is that I have to get back to Camelot. The troublesome beast we’ve yet to hunt down in the woods is the last thing on my mind.
The feeling inside me is overwhelming now, a magnetic pull I can’t resist. A whisper in my mind that I can’t quite understand. But whatever is happening, it’s important–not just for me, but for the fate of Avalon itself and all the Fae.