The Cursed Dragon and His Bride

A Veiled Cage

It could not be true. Lyria did not want to believe it. She clutched the piece of paper in her hand hard. The rough parchment slightly tore apart at her strength.

“Princess…,” Raon called her gently. He stretched out his hand. But his gloved hand stopped shortly before Lyria’s trembling shoulder.  

Raon had been Lyria’s knight since she was but a babe. Her father, the King of Tollyria, was the one who appointed Raon as Lyria’s sole protector. Raon, who had protected Lyria through the dark times.

How did this happen? Why? Lyria could not answer her own questions.

Tollyria was a prominent country full of history on the western continent. Its prowess lied heavily on the kingdom’s magicians which were also the royals and nobles of Tollyria. The royals were said to hail from the ashes of The Phoenix. Each of the royals has magical abilities, mostly revolving around elements.

Lyria’s father, Rob, was a Wind Elementalist. He could wield the wind to his bidding, creating destructive storms or refreshing afternoon breeze. He used to lead other Wind Elementalists to periodically stir the wind to the advantage of Tollyria’s farmers and seafarers.

He was a magnificent leader. The people looked up to him, adored him. And he was a great father. One with huge compassion and love. He even brought in girls from various conflicted places and raised them as his own. There were three girls in total that Rob brought up as princesses. He taught Lyria to treat everyone equally, no matter their status, including her stepsisters. Lyria learned to treat her stepsisters as family, and in return, her sisters vowed to serve Tollyria as best as they can.

At least that was before the demons came into this world. Before the Hell Gate appeared.

As luck would have it, the gate appeared in the land of Tollyria. And the only way to subdue them was to chain the Demon King to Rob’s body. In the beginning, everything was fine. But day by day her father started to change. The fatherly figure Lyria knew disappeared little by little until what was left was only residues of the former owner of the body.

No one knew of this at first. Because there was little change seen on the surface. But underneath the skin, darkness had devoured Rob’s heart entirely. Before long, even if the body belonged to Rob, the gaze and smile belonged to the Demon King.

Sania, one of Lyria’s stepsisters, was the first to know. It was because of her that Lyria and a few Tollyrians were able to escape the dreadful night when demons attacked their kingdom. As Sania saw that her father was no more than a shell to the Demon King, she arranged a ship to transfer children, the elderly, few nobles, and Lyria across the land.

“Come with me,” Lyria had begged her. Sania had the same age as Lyria, but among the sisters, she had always been the wisest and most mature. Not only the sisters, but the soldiers and people of Tollyrians looked up to her as a leader figure.

Lyria, of course, wanted Sania to come with her for Sania’s own safety. Although Lyria could not deny that some part of her wanted Kania to be near as assurance. Lyria was unsure she could make it out safely outside of Tollyria. She did not believe in herself as a leader.

Sania looked at Lyria straight that night. As the fire started to spark in the distance. As the roar of demons erupted from the hill and the screams of unlucky people deafened her ears, there was a look of understanding in Sania’s eyes. Lyria swore Sania must have known exactly what she was thinking. Sania knew her deep and selfish fear. Yet Sania did not curse her for it.

“Lyria,” Sania said hoarsely, “You are the only royal blood left of Tollyria.”

Her sister’s lips trembled as she continued, “You have a chance to save us all. Only you can do it. If Rob could turn three rebellious girls into faithful servants of Tollyria, you can do it. But only if you get out of Tollyria.”

“Wh– What about Scarlett? A– and Nakia?”

Lyria turned her gaze to her other two stepsisters. They were all wearing their nightgowns underneath dark-colored cloaks. Confusions were seen on their faces, but their voices were firm.

“If Sania stays… then I will stay,” said Scarlett. Her hair, which has the same color as her name, blew gently on her face. She was the most beautiful of the sisters.

“I will too,” said Nakia as her bronze skin glistened under the moonlit. “But you should go. For Tollyria.”

Lyria shook her head. “B– but what will you do?”

“We will fight.” Sania’s voice had regained her normal composure. She spoke with determination. “You can bring other kingdoms to help. Fight from the outside. While we… we will crush them from the inside.”

Sania forced a small smile. When Lyria was not convinced, Sania added, “The people that are stuck here. They need us to guide them. And they need you to be alive. You are their only hope left. You must survive, Lyria. Do whatever you can. But survive.”

Those were the last words Lyria heard from her sister. Before the ship took her away from the shore. She stood at the edge of the ship long enough until her sisters turned their back and greeted the burning night. Everything that Lyria knew fell apart that night.

Her father sacrificed his soul. Her sisters, who stayed behind for her people. Her kingdom that was ravaged by demons. And she who ran away to gain help.

It had been five years. Five years since she arrived in Voltaire. As Tollyria had a great bond and friendly history with Voltaire, the kingdom accepted Lyria and her people, although not very openly. After all, Lyria had come with a little number of soldiers and not an ounce of gold. Only her status as a princess and her familial relationship with Marquis Bollein allowed Voltaire to accept them.

But Marquis Bollein’s influence was not enough for Voltaire to gather their army to safe Tollyria. For five years, Lyria tried to appeal to the King of Voltaire to help her country. And for five years, the royals had given her the cold shoulder. Instead of meeting with Lyria himself, The King always sent his advisor, Duke Frelie, to negotiate with her. Yet instead of negotiation, Duke Frelie always gave excuses as to why Voltaire could not take arms against the demons. 

"Besides," Duke Frelie once said in a council meeting, "We cannot be exactly sure that Rob had been influenced by demons."

"What?" 

Duke Frelie was a man in his fifties with backward views on women and he had been wanting to take over Tollyria for the rich natural resources on the land. His tone had always been degrading to Lyria. As if he never believed her, not even once in five years. It was he who spread the rumors that Lyria was a madwoman who ran away from her own kingdom.

"After all, Rob was seen perfectly healthy and talking to the demons as if they were his subordinates."

"I have told you again and aga–"

"Yes, yes," Duke Frelie cut her off. "You told us since the very first time you arrived that the Demon King had taken over your father."

He rested his chin on the back of his palms. A mocking smirk was clearly visible on his face. "You also said that you owed it to your sisters to let you out of Tollyria."

Lyria was unsure of how the conversation was going. She nodded as to validate Duke Frelie's statement.

"If that so, Princess, please tell me...," Duke Frelie's smile grew broader, "Why then our spies saw your sisters leading armies to pillage other countries?

What? 

"Th– that's not po– possible...," Lyria stuttered.

"What's not possible? Are you going to say that the demons have taken over your sisters too?"

"N– no..."

"You see, Princess," he gestured his hands to address every people sitting in the council meeting. Lyria suddenly felt that she was cornered as she stood in front of their scrutinizing eyes. Only Marquis Bollein, who had blood ties with Lyria as her far uncle, gave her a look of pity.

"It is much more believable for us that your father along with your sisters tricked you to get rid of you from Tollyria."

"That's absurd!" Lyria felt herself shouting, "Why would they–"

"Or," the middle-aged man continued, "That you ran away of your own accord because you did not agree of them working together with the demons."

Lyria gritted her teeth hard that day. Her fists had clenched to the point of her palm bleeding and her knuckles turned white. She finally understood Duke Frelie's intention. Voltaire never had the intention to help Tollyria purely. If they could pin the blame for letting demons enter this world to her father and sisters, Voltaire could take over Tollyria and be the world's hero. Lyria would then be their trophy. But in order to do that, they needed Lyria to accuse her own father and sisters. It had to come from her own lips. So that Voltaire would easily subdue the people of Tollyria when their army marched and conquered the entire land.

Bastards.

"Tollyria's grace had fallen for letting the demons enter this world. Tollyria had given the demons a place to stay, supported them with armies. Your father and sisters along with the demons had taken over country after country. For now, they have only invaded small countries. But one could only wonder what's next?"

In the beginning, this was a trap. Voltaire accepting Lyria and a few of her people as asylum was a veiled cage for Lyria. The only thing Voltaire and Duke Frelie saw was the opportunity for glory and land. To them, Lyria was nothing but a moth stuck to their spider web.

"I wish to speak to the king," said Lyria in a small and defeated voice. 

"The king had delegated the affairs between Voltaire and Tollyria to me. He is recuperating from his terrible illness as we are talking. He only goes outside for important matters."

Lies! They are all lies! The king did not make appearances frequently. But once a year he would show up on the most auspicious day of Voltaire, the commemoration day of Voltaire establishment as a kingdom. He would address his people during the day festival and chat with the nobles during the party. It was only after the third year of her stay in Voltaire that Lyria realized the truth. 

The king was a mere doll to Duke Frelie. The man did not hold any power and he was nowhere to be seen other than the assigned day.

In Voltaire, the duke had the highest authority. And that man just insulted Lyria yet again.

Isn't this important?? Lyria felt like screaming. Demons have entered our realm and they are bringing horror to my people!

She tried... Goddess, she really tried to stand tall and kept her head held high. For her kingdom, for her people, and for her family. But at that moment, she felt like a bird trapped in a cage with broken wings.

She was not Sania who was wise and quick on the wit. She was not Scarlett, who is charming. She was not Nakia, who is sharp-tongued. Above all, she was not her father who could lead these people. 

Five years... And she could not even bring a single army to rescue the rest of Tollyrians. 

She was a failure of a princess.

"What do you want, Frelie?" She asked in a desperate voice. 

As she saw his grin widened yet again, Lyria felt hopeless. She fell right into his trap, and there was nothing she could do. 

"Of course, if you were to marry me...  When we rescue Tollyria from the demons, I would make sure that I would rule Tollyria as a wise and just king."

I, he said. There was no room for Lyria. To him,  Lyria was nothing but a stepping stone. 

If gaze could burn, Lyria would have already made Duke Frelie to ashes by now. She was fuming with anger. And yet she had to think cooly. For her people... for her sisters, she reluctantly nodded. 

Lyria was a failure of a princess. But at least, she could do this much. Her happiness was of no importance other than the safety of her people. They deserved her sacrifice after waiting for so long. 

It did not mean Lyria would stop fighting. She would not let Duke Frelie tainted her father and sisters' images easily. Because there was no way that they sided with the demons. Lyria believed without a doubt that Sania acted for a reason.

"We will fight from the inside," Lyria recalled what Sania said. She tried so hard to suppress the growing rumors of her father, Rob, acting as the Demon King himself. And that her sisters became his trusted generals. 'The Queens of Hell,' people started to call them. Yet as much as she tried, the rumors kept on spreading.

Until something happened that shook the world. One unfortunate event validated Lyria's effort to deny the rumors.

The only problem was that her validation had come in the most terrible form a few weeks after Lyria agreed to marry Duke Frelie. Written on the parchment commonly used by messengers was the astounding news of the death of Sania. 

"Princess, are you okay?" Raon asked again in a. gentle voice. He still refrained from touching her. The girl in front of him had become ghastly pale. Her pupils widen in disbelief. She kept reading the words over and over again. 

"This can't... be..." Her voice was hoarse and small. Raon had never seen her this fragile since the day they had to leave Tollyria. 

They were alone in Lyria's parlor, inside Marquis Bollein's mansion. Marquis Bollein was the only noble in Voltaire who wanted to help Lyria wholeheartedly. Even so, his power was not enough to outmaneuver Duke Frelie's plans. Raon made sure that no one would get in the room until Lyria would calm herself down. 

'One of Tollyria's generals who are commonly referred to as the 'White Witch' and the King of Tollyria burned her entire army with hellfire.' 

Lyria read the words for what seemed like the thousandth time. The parchment had ripped apart to pieces the more she reread the words.

Something crumbled inside Lyria as the obnoxious words finally settled in her mind.