Chapter 5: A Life for a Life
The grand hall of Regina's castle was filled with the vibrant hum of nobility, each family from the five kingdoms presenting their finest—draped in silks and jewels, banners fluttering in the soft breeze that wafted through the open windows. The pomp and circumstance surrounding each arrival made Regina's stomach churn with discomfort. She sat at the head of it all, feeling like a lamb led to slaughter. The eyes of the entire realm were on her, assessing, judging. She felt exposed, vulnerable, a prize to be claimed by men who knew nothing of the weight of the crown she bore.
Her hand instinctively tightened around the armrest of her throne. Her only comfort was Graham, standing tall and silent at her side, his presence steady as it had always been. He had grown older, his hair streaked with silver, his movements less swift than they had been in his youth, but his loyalty had never wavered. To Regina, Graham had become more than just her head of protection—he had filled the void her father had left behind. He was her guardian, her rock in this storm of uncertainty.
Yet even with Graham beside her, Regina felt suffocated. The future of her kingdom, her very existence, now hinged on this ridiculous competition. Her power, her autonomy—reduced to being a prize to be won by the strongest or most cunning man. The only thing that kept her from fleeing was the knowledge that she, at least, held the final say. She could still reject whoever won the tournament, though how long that defiance could last, she wasn't sure. Today would be terrible, that much she knew.
The sound of the trumpets blaring echoed through the hall, announcing the first arrival. "Presenting the noble family of the Western Kingdom, and Prince William Scarlett!" the announcer's voice boomed, making Regina's teeth clench.
The Western Kingdom—isolated, cold, and treacherous—was known for producing warriors, men of iron wills forged in battle. Yet as Regina's eyes fell upon Prince William, she stifled the urge to sneer. He was nothing like his family, nothing like the legends of their fierce bloodline. Behind him marched his brothers—eleven hulking, battle-hardened men, scars of war etched across their faces, their armor gleaming with the wear of countless battles. They strode with confidence, powerful and sure, a testament to the kingdom's fearsome reputation.
But William… William was an embarrassment.
He stood at the forefront of his family, but he was physically opposite in every way. Tall and lanky, his thin frame was half the size of his brothers. His limbs seemed too long, his movements awkward, as though he had never truly learned how to carry himself. His face, pale and sickly, bore no scars of war, no sign of battle or struggle. Where his brothers looked like they had fought for every inch of their kingdom, William appeared as though he had spent most of his life sheltered in the shadows.
As he approached, Regina's keen eyes caught sight of a balding spot on the top of his head when he bowed deeply before her. The bow itself was awkward, unbalanced, as though he had practiced it in front of a mirror and still hadn't managed to get it right. It reminded her of a child trying to imitate his elders, clumsy and unsure.
There was no confidence in him. No power. No presence. Everything about him screamed weakness, and Regina's gut twisted with disgust. She had expected the Western Kingdom to send someone formidable, someone who could at least pretend to be worthy of her hand. Instead, they had sent the runt of their litter.
Graham shifted slightly beside her, his face impassive, but Regina could feel the tension in his posture. He must have seen what she did—the lack of strength in the boy before them, the clear sign that William Scarlett would not last long in this competition.
"Your Majesty," William's voice was thin, trembling as he spoke, his eyes fixed on the ground beneath her throne. "It is an honor to stand before you."
Regina forced a smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "The honor is mine, Prince William," she replied coolly, her voice steady. She glanced at the eleven brothers standing behind him, their gazes sharp and full of judgment, as though they knew they were presenting their weakest sibling to the queen.
William shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure of what to say next. He was out of his element, and it showed in every twitch of his hands, every uncertain glance toward his brothers for silent approval. Regina's suspicions were confirmed. This man—this weakling—had no place on the battlefield, nor by her side. His kingdom might be strong, but he wasn't.
He will be the first to fall, she thought coldly, her lips pressing into a thin line.
The next announcement echoed through the grand hall, louder than the last, as if to underscore the importance of the family about to enter. The trumpets blasted once again, and the herald's voice rang out with flourish:
"Presenting the noble family of the Eastern Kingdom, and Prince Ali Ababwa!"
A sudden ripple of excitement swept through the grand hall, as musicians, adorned with purple head pieces and jewels around their necks came bounding in, playing a dancing tune as performers flooded in behind them. Some of the performers weaved their way in and out of the crowd, dancing closely to some and putting on an intricate show.
Gasps filled the air, and a woman screeched from closer to the entrance. Regina felt her pulse quicken as she tensed, her eyes wide. The sound of large, padded paws echoed off the stone floors, and from behind Ali's performing entourage emerged something that made the room collectively hold its breath—a massive tiger, its fur shimmering with orange and black stripes, prowled into the hall. The tiger was majestic, its muscles rippling beneath its sleek coat as it walked, calm yet dangerous. For a moment, the room stood frozen in fear, everyone keenly aware of the beast's power. The tiger's eyes flickered around the room, sharp and intelligent, and Regina couldn't help but feel a surge of apprehension. Even Graham, standing stalwart beside her, shifted his stance, clearly prepared to act if the creature showed the slightest sign of aggression.
One of the trainers, a tall man with striking features, produced a hoop made of thick, golden metal, and held it high in the air. At a silent command, the tiger's body coiled, its gaze fixed on the hoop as its muscles tensed. In one graceful, powerful leap, the tiger sprang through the hoop, landing silently on the other side. The room erupted in nervous applause, but the awe was unmistakable. Regina found herself gripping the armrest of her throne, heart racing as the spectacle unfolded.
The tiger, fully under control, circled back, leaping through another hoop, and then another. Each time, it moved with perfect precision, obeying every command from its trainers with ease and elegance. The fear that had first gripped the room slowly turned into astonishment. The beast's wild, predatory nature was unmistakable, but the control over it, the mastery of its handlers, was even more impressive.
Regina's breath caught as the tiger moved closer to her, its eyes momentarily locking with hers. For a fleeting second, she felt a jolt of fear, as if the beast could break free at any moment, tearing through the hall and devouring anyone in its path. But the trainers remained composed, completely unfazed by the proximity of such raw power.
"Fear not, good people, or my Queen!" Prince Ali emerged from the crowd, dressed in white and gold robes. He bowed. His voice rang through the hall that had grown terrifyingly quiet. "For I bring gifts from my kingdom, and the might and beauty of the great tiger, Raja." He patted the tiger's head affectionately and the animal obediently laid down at his feet. The prince strode confidently closer to Regina, higher than the others had dared approach, his eyes locking with hers, his presence commanding. He knelt before her, a dazzling smile on his face, close enough to take her hand in his own. The room felt like everyone had taken a sharp breath. "Your beauty is beyond comparison." He knelt down and gently kissed the back of her hand.
Regina found herself impressed, though she kept her expression cool and composed. It wasn't just the tiger that had caught her attention—it was the entire display of power and control. The Eastern Kingdom hadn't just sent a prince; they had sent a demonstration of what they were capable of. Taming the wild, turning chaos into elegance, mastering the uncontrollable. And perhaps even more striking, it was done with ease, as if commanding such wild power was second nature to them.
She took in his appearance more closely now. He was undeniably handsome, his dark hair and striking features giving him an air of both mystery and strength. His presence was commanding, but not in the brutish way many other princes were. There was something refined about him, something that made him stand out even more amidst the spectacle. The ease with which he handled the situation, combined with his natural charm, was enough to make Regina pause in her initial cold assessment.
For all the pomp and show, Prince Ali was not just a man of charm—he was someone who knew how to wield influence. His kingdom's wealth, their mastery over wild creatures, and his own sharp mind made him more formidable than she had anticipated.
Regina, still impressed despite herself, gave him a slight smile, keeping her tone measured. "I must admit, Prince Ali, your kingdom clearly has a unique mastery over the wild."
Ali's smile widened just enough to show his satisfaction. "The wild, Your Majesty, can always be tamed—if you know how."
With a final nod, he stepped back, leaving Regina with much to think about.
The tension in the hall shifted abruptly as the herald attempted to announce the next kingdom. His voice began to echo, "Presenting the noble family of the Southwestern King—" but before he could finish, a deafening bang thundered from the massive doors. The room fell into stunned silence, the air thick with anticipation. And then, a chorus of grunts and shouts filled the hall as the doors were flung open, revealing a procession unlike any other.
Wild, painted men—barbarians from the Southwestern Kingdom—stormed in, stomping their feet in perfect unison. Their bare chests gleamed under the torchlight, streaked with bold patterns of red and white, smeared across their skin like war paint. The rhythmic beat of their steps pounded through the hall, shaking the very floor beneath Regina's feet. They beat their chests in primal unison, shouting in a harsh, guttural language unfamiliar to anyone in the room. Their voices rose and fell like the clamor of war drums, each cry sending a shiver down Regina's spine.
The spectacle was as crude as it was chaotic, and Regina found herself both repulsed and reluctantly intrigued. She had heard rumors of the barbaric customs of the Southwestern Kingdom, but seeing it in person was overwhelming. These men, wild and untamed, seemed as far removed from courtly decorum as one could be. Her eyes darted between them, scanning the sea of brawny, battle-hardened figures streaked in paint. But where was Prince Leroy?
The cacophony reached a crescendo before the group stopped suddenly, halting in unison just short of the steps to Regina's throne. A brief silence fell over the room as the sea of wild men parted, revealing—Regina had to fight to suppress a groan of disbelief—a dwarf standing proudly at the center.
Prince Leroy was barely half the size of his companions, and yet, he strode forward with the confidence of a giant. His stature was small, but his presence was larger than life. Dressed in furs and leathers that looked as though they had been hastily thrown together, he raised his arms dramatically as if commanding an invisible army. His voice, when he finally spoke, boomed through the hall with an unexpected force that belied his diminutive size.
"Your Majesty!" Leroy declared, his voice much larger than his frame, echoing with theatrical flair. He swept into a bow that seemed exaggerated for effect, his eyes gleaming with self-assured mischief. "It is an honor beyond measure to stand in your presence, for none can compare to your beauty and elegance, which outshines even the brightest—"
Before he could finish his overblown praise, the doors to the hall slammed open once more, cutting him off. A ripple of confusion swept through the room as another family barged in unannounced, their entrance unceremonious and hasty. The crowd gasped as attendants scurried to make way for the interruption.
Prince Killian Jones, flanked by his ragtag crew of pirates, strode into the hall without a hint of decorum. There was no elegant fanfare, no grand procession—just the sound of boots scuffing against the polished stone floor and the careless jangle of swords and chains as his men followed him inside, laughing and shoving each other.
The announcer, flustered by the chaos, attempted to maintain some semblance of order. "Presenting Prince Killian Jo—" But before he could finish, Killian casually bumped into him, sending the poor man stumbling off balance.
"Oh, my apologies, mate," Killian slurred, waving his hand dismissively as he took another long, deliberate sip from the vessel hanging on his belt. The scent of rum wafted through the air, unmistakable even at a distance. Regina, watching from her throne, suppressed a groan and rolled her eyes. Pirates. Of course. She expected nothing less from them—no dignity, no grace, just drunken swagger.
Killian staggered forward, his eyes locked on Regina as he approached, his walk as casual and self-assured as if he were strolling through a tavern instead of standing before the queen of the Enchanted Kingdom. His black leather coat swished behind him, and though there was a rugged handsomeness to him, the smell of rum and saltwater clung to him in a way that made Regina squirm uncomfortably in her seat.
When he finally stopped in front of her, Killian gave an exaggerated, sloppy bow, barely managing to stay upright as he did so. "Lovely to see you… again," he drawled, his words slow and suggestive, his breath heavy with alcohol.
Regina's eyes narrowed at the insinuation. She felt her cheeks flush with a mixture of anger and discomfort as Killian straightened up and winked at her with an arrogant smirk. He was clearly referencing something inappropriate—an attempt at humor or flirtation that landed like a stone in Regina's stomach. The room grew tense, eyes flicking between them, wondering if there was some history that Killian was alluding to.
Killian, oblivious to or perhaps delighting in Regina's discomfort, turned back toward the crowd. His voice boomed through the hall, breaking the strained silence. "What's a grand reception without some proper drinks, eh? Someone get me more rum!" he shouted, his hand slapping one of the servants on the back, sending him scrambling to fetch another bottle. "Whoa!" Killian laid eyes on the dwarf, Leroy. "A half-man." He stated plainly before shoving his way toward the rum. The larger men surrounding Leroy held him back, his face red hot with anger.
Regina's heart raced as the herald's voice rang through the grand hall, loud and clear: "Presenting King Charming, Queen Snow White, and their son, Prince August Charming."
Regina's breath caught in her throat. Their son? She blinked in disbelief, quickly glancing toward Graham for reassurance, but he looked just as startled as she felt. The Charming's had a son? This was impossible. She had always known they had only one child, a daughter. But no—before her, standing tall and proud, was a man she had never seen before.
Regina's eyes were immediately drawn to him, this mysterious "Prince August Charming" who strode confidently beside Snow White and King Charming. He was unlike anyone she had expected from their kingdom—his presence was regal, commanding, but also mysterious. His blonde hair caught the light, his expression unreadable, and the armor he wore… it was nothing short of perfection. His chest plate bore the finely crafted engraving of an eagle, wings spread in mid-flight, gleaming against the navy robes that flowed from his shoulders like a royal mantle.
Even Graham, ever watchful at Regina's side, seemed to take note of the craftsmanship of the armor, his eyes lingering on the delicate yet sturdy detailing of the wings engraved on the shoulder plates. There was a precision to his attire, a mark of someone who was not only a prince by name but by upbringing, training, and presence. The way he carried his helmet under one arm with an effortless grace, his body built muscular but not overbearing, made it clear that August was a man accustomed to both the battlefield and the court.
Regina's mind spun as she tried to piece together what this meant. The Charming's had never mentioned a son—there had been no hint of this mysterious prince in all her years of ruling. And now, as she stood here, vulnerable, her kingdom on display, the Charming's appeared with this perfect son in tow, as if they had been holding a secret weapon for this exact moment. Her thoughts darkened. What were they planning? They had tried to overthrow her once, in the days of her father's reign. Could this be another attempt? Another betrayal from Snow White?
Her lips pressed into a thin line as the three of them approached the steps to her throne. Despite the tension gnawing at her, Regina couldn't help but feel the weight of August's presence as he walked toward her. His gaze was steady, not filled with arrogance like Killian's, nor with the awkward insecurity of William Scarlett. No, August's presence was cool and composed, the kind of man who seemed to command respect by simply existing. And he was handsome, impossibly so—his sharp features were both rugged and refined, a blend of the perfect prince Charming that Snow and her husband represented.
Regina's thoughts tumbled through her mind, and for the first time that day, she felt self-conscious. She had endured the pomp, the arrogance, the bravado of the other suitors, but August was different. There was something about him that unsettled her. His grace, his composure, the way he carried himself—it made her feel exposed in a way she hadn't felt in years, or perhaps, ever.
As he reached the steps of her throne, August knelt down with a fluid, practiced motion, his head bowed respectfully. "My Queen," he said, his voice deep and rich, smooth but with a roughness that felt lived-in, real. "I humbly come before you, indebted to you for this opportunity."
When he rose from his bow, their eyes met, and the world seemed to tilt for Regina. His blue eyes, like deep pools, locked onto hers, and for a moment, everything around them faded. There was something in his gaze that stirred a sense of recognition deep within her—something unsettling, as though they had known each other for lifetimes. It wasn't a gaze of dominance or challenge, but one of familiarity, of something lost and found again. Her pulse quickened as she tried to understand what she was feeling. It was as though they had been apart for years, strangers, but also something more. And now, standing before her, they were reunited, though she couldn't explain why.
Regina held his gaze, her mind momentarily blank, her heart pounding in her chest. It was as if time itself had paused, and all that existed in that moment was the unspoken connection between them, something ancient, something… right. And yet, Regina couldn't afford to let herself be swept away by these feelings. Not now. Not when so much was at stake.
She quickly broke eye contact, composing herself, her voice steady though her emotions were anything but. "Prince August," she said, trying to keep her tone diplomatic. "I had not expected your presence at this tournament. Your parents sadly never mentioned you."
He smiled then, a small but sincere smile, as though he understood her surprise. "My apologies, Your Majesty. My… circumstances have been complicated. But I am here now, to represent my family and my kingdom."
Regina's eyes flicked briefly to Snow and Charming, who stood behind him with unreadable expressions. What game were they playing? Was this another attempt to destabilize her rule? Or was something deeper at work here, something beyond her understanding?
She turned back to August, her voice cool but curious. "And what do you hope to gain from this tournament, Prince August?"
He didn't hesitate, his gaze steady. "I hope to earn your trust, Your Majesty," he said, his voice sincere.
Regina, her thoughts still swirling with confusion and suspicion, decided to test him. She leaned forward slightly, her gaze narrowing as she studied him, looking for any crack in his calm exterior. The idea of a perfect prince—especially one who had appeared out of nowhere—was impossible to believe. No one came to her court without ambition. Especially not when a crown was at stake.
"And tell me, Prince August," she said, her voice cool but edged with subtle challenge, "are you not here for the crown? Is that not the goal of every man standing before me in this competition?"
There was a flicker in his eyes, but he remained calm, collected. He didn't falter. In fact, he almost seemed to welcome the question, as though he had anticipated it. He took a breath, his gaze steady and thoughtful as he responded.
"The crown," he began, his voice smooth but resolute, "would certainly be an honor. A privilege, even. But no, Your Majesty, I am not here solely for that."
Regina raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his response. It wasn't what she expected. She had heard so many empty promises and flattering words today that this felt… different.
"I am here," August continued, his voice unwavering, "to do what's right. To support a greater cause—something that benefits not just my kingdom, but yours, and all the others. The Ogre Wars are upon us, and we all know what's coming. I know what lies beyond those mountains, I've seen brave men depart and never return, or return as shells of their former selves. What's at stake is the survival of us all. That's what I'm here for."
Regina's breath caught at the mention of the Ogre Wars. His words hit a nerve. The conflict looming over her kingdom had already begun to bleed into every decision she made. To hear him acknowledge the reality of it so openly, without flattery or posturing, was unexpected.
"If a crown is part of that cause," August continued, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that sent a chill through her, "then I will not deny it. But I do not seek power for power's sake. I seek to lead where leadership is needed. And if that means wearing a crown, then so be it. But if it does not… I am content knowing I did the right thing."
The hall was silent, as if everyone were holding their breath, waiting for Regina's reaction. Even Snow and Charming stood back, their expressions carefully neutral. But Regina felt the weight of his words settling on her, and for the first time in a long while, she didn't feel like she was hearing rehearsed lines or courtly niceties. There was an honesty in August's tone, a rare quality in men who came to court seeking power.
Regina found herself staring at him, trying to find the catch, the hidden ambition that surely must be there. But August held her gaze with steady conviction, his posture relaxed yet purposeful. He was, indeed, calm. Collected. As though he had nothing to prove, no game to play. It unnerved her, because she couldn't quite see through him.
"That's a noble sentiment," Regina said, her tone cautious, though something inside her stirred at his words. "How am I to believe you are different from the others? How am I to trust that your words are not just another play for power?"
August's lips curved into a small smile, and Regina felt a tingle she'd never felt before run down her spine.
"I don't expect you to trust me yet, Your Majesty," he said quietly, his voice low but sure. "Trust is earned, not given. And I intend to earn it."
Regina finally leaned back on her throne, her expression measured, but there was no denying the spark of curiosity that had ignited within her. "Very well, Prince August," she said, her voice steady once again. "Let's see if your actions speak as strongly as your words."
August had disarmed her with something far more dangerous—honesty. And though she didn't trust him, not yet, she couldn't ignore the feeling that he was here for more than just a crown. And somehow, that made him all the more intriguing.