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cheynovak · 5 months ago

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Forged - Part one

Summary: Calista is a young woman who lives with her uncle and nephew since her parents died, one day 'the God king's' guards under the leadership of a knight come to town. Looking for young women to present to the crown prince Cyrus (Luke Evans) , who is in search of a wife before he can claim the throne. Calista meets the handsome Knight Ezra (Jensen Ackles) who doesn't seem to be who she thinks he is. Will she fall for the dark intriguing prince, or will she fall for the guidance and warmth of Ezra?

Warnings: Nothing too explicitly in the story.

English is not my first language

Words: 7900

Part 1 out of... I'm sorry I want to put so much into it, that it is getting to long for one shot.

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

The forge was always hot, always alive. It was a place where sweat and strength melded with metal, transforming raw material into objects of beauty and utility. My uncle Henry thrived here, his rough hands and muscled arms constantly engaged in the ceaseless dance of the smith. My young cousin Micah and I lived in the small cottage behind the forge, where the clanging of hammers was our lullaby.

Today was like any other, or so it seemed. I was sweeping the front of the shop when the silence was disturbed by the sound of hoofs, many, many hoofs. A royal knight of the gods arrived, with a few guards. All working to protect the kingdom of the Gods.

Guards where humans who wanted to become godly in hope to claim the title of knight one day.

Their arrival was announced by the shimmering of their armour, so brilliant in the sunlight that it appeared forged from gold itself. Micah, who was playing with a wooden sword nearby, stopped mid-swing, his eyes wide with wonder.

"Calista! Look at them!" he exclaimed, dropping his toy and running over to me. His face was alight with excitement, a stark contrast to the sooty, sweaty atmosphere of our world.

"They are quite a sight," I agreed, smiling at his enthusiasm. “Why do you think they are here?” I had no idea. Uncle Henry emerged from the forge, wiping his brow with a cloth. The heat and soot of the forge clung to him.

When he saw the royal guards, his expression shifted from one of routine fatigue to wary alertness. It was unusual for the them to stop in a town like ours unless there was trouble. They were notorious for their strict enforcement of the gods' laws, but to children like Micah, they were heroes in shining armour.

"Calista, Micah, get back into the shop," Uncle Henry ordered, his voice firm.

Micah hesitated, his eyes glued to the guards. I gently tugged his hand, leading him back toward the shop. As we retreated, my eyes met briefly with the leader, the knight. His helmet obscured most of his face, but his piercing green eyes were unmistakable. There was something about him, a depth that both intrigued and unsettled me. I quickly looked away, ushering Micah inside.

"Why did we have to leave?" Micah asked, his voice tinged with disappointment.

"It's not safe to be around them," I explained, closing the door behind us. "Uncle Henry just wants to make sure we're out of harm's way."

Micah's shoulders slumped, but he didn't argue. Instead, he moved to the window, peeking out at the guards as they talked to my uncle and tended to their horses. I could see the longing in his eyes, the desire to be part of their world. I understood that longing, anything was better than this dusty place, though I would never admit it out loud.

Inside the shop, the air started to cool down, the familiar smell of metal and soot providing a strange comfort. Uncle Henry joined us shortly after, his expression serious. "They're looking for young women to attend their prince his party.” After that he mumbled something about finding the right coal to press a diamond from.

Uncle Henry said quietly. "Best we stay out of their way until they leave. They are staying the night and asked to take care of their horses."

"The God prince?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. We heard stories all our life, but never seen the sons of the God King. Uncle Henry shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Just stay inside and keep an eye on Micah."

That night, we stayed inside, the usual warmth and clamour of the forge replaced by a tense silence. As I lay in my shared bed with Micah, my thoughts moved back to the knight with green eyes until Micah spoke sleepy "I want to be like them,"

"I know," I replied, holding him closer to me. “And one day you will prove the Gods you are worthy.” "I will," he promised himself before drifting to sleep.

The next morning, after making sure the fire was hot enough for my uncle to work, I took Micah to the market. He skipped beside me hoping we would see some guards.

The market was bustling with activity, and as we moved through the stalls, I noticed a few of the guards buying food. They looked at me, their eyes lingering longer than necessary. I scanned their faces, but he wasn't among them.

I knew what they must see, the ugly poor girl with ashy dark long brown hair and brown eyes, and a dress stained from the coal I carried for my uncle. I hated the way I looked, except for my eyes. I had my mother's eyes, big and dark, and they were the one part of myself I took pride in.

As we continued through the market, I saw the Jamerson sisters flirting with the guards. They welcomed their attention, giggling and tossing their perfectly white blond curled hair, batting their bright blue eyes. The guards seemed to enjoy the attention, smiling and chatting with them. I wondered if it was like this everywhere the guards went. Did people always fawn over them, despite their notoriety?

The Jamerson’s were part from beautiful also the richest families in this town, the gems of our community, every man would want their hand in marriage, and they knew. While me, just a working-class girl with dirt under her fingernails and dirty straight hair couldn’t even dream of marriage.

"Calista, can we get some apples?" Micah's voice broke through my thoughts. "Of course," I said, smiling down at him. We approached the fruit stand, and I handed over a few silver coins to the vendor, who gave us a friendly nod.

As we picked our apples, I couldn't help but overhear snippets of conversation from the guards nearby.

"...only the blonds? The captain wont be pleased."

"Keep looking. The one he wanted has to be here somewhere."

Micah and I moved on, but their words stayed with me. They were searching for 'The one” and it seemed urgent. I wondered who it could be and what she had to be like. Maybe even dreaming of what it would be, living like a god. But I wouldn’t or couldn’t leave my family.

Micah reached for an apple with too much enthusiasm, and it slipped from his hand, tumbling onto the ground. Several others followed, scattering across the cobblestones. The marketeer, a stout man with a furrowed brow, immediately rounded on us.

"Hey! You need to pay for that!" he barked, his eyes narrowing in irritation. "I'm so sorry," I apologized, quickly bending down to pick up the fallen apples. Before I could gather them all, a pair of strong hands joined mine, lifting the fruit from the ground.

I looked up and found myself staring into those same piercing green eyes from the day before. The knight handed the apples back to Micah, but his gaze remained locked on me.

I was baffled, unable to speak as he turned to the marketeer and paid for the fruit. "No harm done," he said, his voice steady and commanding. I took in his face, unable to look away.

His eyes were bright yet commanding, a few fine lines on his face, his eyes an intense emerald green that seemed to see right through me. His brown hair slightly longer and hung partly in his face but was just a little shorter on the sides, catching the sunlight and giving off a slight golden silky shine. His beard added a ruggedness to his godly features.

He notices me staring, "T-thank you," I stammered, finally finding my voice I saw the crest on his armour, he was the captain.

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Be careful next time," he said to Micah, ruffling his hair gently before turning back to me. "It's easy to get lost in the hustle of the market."

I nodded, still stunned. " Thank you." He lingered for a moment, his gaze softening. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Calista," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Calista," he repeated, as if tasting the sound of it. A small smile curved his lips, making his eyes even more captivating. "Is your father a good smith, Calista?"

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me. "He’s my uncle, actually, Micah's father." I corrected, my voice stumbling slightly as I held my nephew close in front of me. "But yes, he's the best." His smile widened. "I'll be sure to remember that. It's rare to find skilled people these days."

Micah clung to my side, his eyes still wide with admiration. “I want to be a knight someday." he blurted out, unable to contain his excitement. “I’m sure you will.” he said, ruffling Micah's hair again before kneeling to match his height. "But even knights have to start somewhere. Helping your family is a good beginning."

Micah nodded vigorously, as if receiving the most important advice of his life. "I will! I promise!" he said grabbing my bags from my hands. Showing the Knight he meant it.

He nodded once more and then turned to rejoin his comrades, who were finishing their purchases. As he walked away, I couldn't help but watch him, his commanding presence standing out even in the bustling market.

"Calista," Micah said, tugging at my sleeve. "Can we get some sweets too?" I said we didn't have the money for sweets today, Micah lifted a coin, gold with the emblem of the gods. I looked at the knight. He nodded once more and then left with the other guards.

I smiled, the tension of the moment easing. "Alright, let's get some sweets," I said, leading him towards the candy stall. As we made our way through the market, I couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes on me, the way he had looked at me as if seeing something more. It was a feeling both thrilling and unsettling, and I knew it was one I wouldn't forget anytime soon.

Back at the forge, Uncle Henry was busy at work, the rhythmic sound of his hammer echoing through the air. Micah ran inside to show off the sweets we had bought, but I lingered at the door, my thoughts still on him.

Uncle Henry glanced up and saw me standing there. "Everything alright, Calista?" he asked, wiping his hands on his apron. "Yes," I replied, finally stepping inside. "Just thinking."

"About that knight ?" Micah asked, uncle looked at me, a confused look in his eyes.

I nodded. "He's different. There's something about him..." Uncle Henry chuckled. "Be careful, Calista. The guards, especially the knights of the gods are not like us. Their lives are full of duty, danger and women."

"I know," I said softly. "But he was kind. And he paid for the apples and gave us a gold coin." Uncle Henry's expression softened. "Kindness is rare in their world. And rarely comes for free."

As the day went on, I tried to focus on my chores, but the knight's face kept appearing in my mind. His green eyes, his smile, the way he had spoken to Micah and me—it all felt like a dream. A small part of me hoped I would see him when he picked up his horse. As evening approached, I heard voices outside the forge. One was deep and steady, unmistakably the knight’s, but my uncle sounded upset.

Curiosity got the better of me. I sneaked to the door and peeked out. He saw me immediately and smiled. "Why don't you ask what she wants?" he said to my uncle, his voice calm and steady.

Uncle Henry looked defeated, his shoulders slumped. "Ask me what?" I stepped out hesitantly. The man turned to me, his eyes gentle but serious. "Calista, I've come to offer you an invitation. There is a ball at the palace in honour of Prince Cyrus. He is searching across the realms for the most beautiful women, hoping to find his bride."

I was in shock, unable to process his words. "But I'm not beautiful," I blurted out, my insecurities surfacing. His lip twitched, almost a smile. "All diamonds were carbon once," he said softly.

I felt a sting of offense. I knew I wasn't beautiful, but to call me that... "So, you think I'm like a piece of coal?" I retorted, my voice tinged with hurt.

He stepped closer, his expression earnest. "Calista, I didn't mean to offend you. What I mean is that you have the potential for greatness and beauty. If you were to be chosen, your family could live on the palace grounds. Your uncle would become the royal smith, and Micah would have a greater chance to become a knight."

"But why me?" I asked, still incredulous. He smiled again, a warmth in his eyes that made my heart flutter. "Because I see something special in you. You may not see it yet, but I do."

I hesitated, torn between doubt and the possibilities he offered. The chance to improve our lives, to give Micah a better future... it was tempting. "What would I have to do?" I asked finally.

"Attend the ball," he said simply. "Let the prince see you. The rest is up to fate." I looked at Uncle Henry, seeking his guidance. He nodded slowly. Micah must have sneaked up on us. His face lit up with hope. "Please, Calista! Say yes!"

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his expectations, I would do anything for my family, for those who were left. "Alright," I said, my voice steadying. "I'll go to the ball."

"Wonderful. I will make the arrangements. We leave tomorrow at first light." As he turned to leave, I felt a mix of excitement and fear. The future seemed suddenly uncertain, filled with both promise and peril.

That night, as I lay in bed, I couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead. The thought of the palace, the ball, and the prince filled my dreams, but it was the nameless knight’s emerald eyes that stayed with me.

The journey to the castle was on horseback, and I found myself escorted alongside the Jamerson sisters. We rode in a silent procession towards a portal that would take us to the palace. The knight kept quiet, not even looking at us, while the other guards constantly talked and flirted with the two sisters. I couldn't help but wonder how many girls they had invited.

As we approached the portal, an uneasy feeling washed over me. The air shimmered with a magical energy, and a drowsiness began to settle over us. I realized it must have been magic by the gods, a means to ensure their safety and to keep mortals from discovering the portals and borders of their realm. My eyelids grew heavy, and before I knew it, I was slipping into a deep sleep.

When I woke up, I was lying in a bed so large that I couldn't touch the ends even if I wanted to. The sheets were silk, soft against my skin, and the room was bathed in a gentle light. Roses adorned the walls, and golden details highlighted the exquisite furniture. It was a room fit for royalty, far beyond anything I had ever imagined.

I sat up slowly, taking in my surroundings. The bed canopy was adorned with delicate lace, and a chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow. The scent of roses filled the air, and I felt a mixture of awe and nervousness.

A soft knock at the door startled me. "Come in," I called out, my voice still groggy from sleep.

A maid entered, her demeanour respectful but warm. "Good morning, miss. I hope you slept well. I am here to help you prepare for the day."

"Thank you," I replied, still a bit dazed. "Where am I exactly?"

"You are in the guest quarters of the palace," the maid explained as she approached the bed. "The ball in honour of Prince Cyrus will be held tonight. There are many preparations to be made."

I nodded, still trying to process everything. The maid helped me out of bed and led me to a dressing area where a beautiful gown awaited. It was a deep royal blue. The fabric shimmered with an almost ethereal glow.

As the maid helped me bath and dressed, I couldn't help but ask, "How many girls were invited?"

"Quite a few from all over the realms," she replied. "The prince wishes to meet as many as possible in his search for a bride." I took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety. "And the guards, do they often bring girls here?"

The maid smiled knowingly. "They do their duty, but each guard is different. Some are more honourable than others. And as long as the guard hold on to their duty the King and his sons don’t mind who they spend their time with."

I thought of the ones I met, and him, his quiet, steady presence, I couldn’t picture him in any brothels or a different girl by his side every night... But he was still a man. Even if there was something about him that felt different, more sincere.

Once I was dressed, the maid led me to a grand hall where other young women were gathered, including the Jamerson sisters. They looked as excited as ever, their faces glowing with anticipation. The guards were present too, their demeanour more formal in the presence of so many guests.

As I stood there, waiting for the day to unfold, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of hope. The palace was a place of magic and possibility, and though I still felt out of place, I was determined to make the most of this opportunity.

The day passed in a blur of preparations. We were groomed, pampered, and taught the proper etiquette for the evening. The other girls chattered excitedly, their nerves evident. I tried to stay calm, focusing on the promise I had made. This was a chance to change my family's life, to give Micah a better future.

As the sun began to set, we were finally led to the grand ballroom. The room was magnificent, with chandeliers casting a golden light over everything. Every girl was presented to the King and his sons. Yes, plural—no one knew he had two.

Al though the other one seemed to be running late? The king and the prince seemed similar dark haired men, but I was too far out of sight to really take them in. I waited till it was my turn.

My nerves made my hands tremble as I watched the floor, trying not to trip over my own feet in the unfamiliar heels. When my turn came, I approached the King, my heart pounding in my chest. I knelt before him, expressing my gratitude for the invitation. Then I looked up, seeing the prince on his right side.

Prince Cyrus had pitch-black hair and cold, piercing green eyes. His jaw was sharp, and he was stunning in his black, simple yet elegant ensemble with golden details. His lips lifted slightly in a reserved smile. "It is an honour to meet you, my prince" I said, my voice steady despite my nerves.

"The honour is mine" he replied curtly, his gaze assessing me. Then I heard a familiar voice, and my head snapped towards the left side of the King. "I'm sorry I'm late, Father." He kissed the ring of the King. It was him, the nameless knight. The realization hit me like a bolt of lightning.

The king waved at him, “Take a seat, Ezra. You haven’t missed much.”

He smiled softly and nodded for me to look back at Prince Cyrus, who raised an eyebrow, curious about my distraction. I managed a clumsy curtsy, my heart racing, and stumbled slightly as I walked away, trying to process what I had just learned.

As I stood there, taking it all in, lost in thought, looking at all the women trying to earn the prince his attention, many far more beautiful than me. A hand gently touched my shoulder. I turned to see Ezra, or rather, Prince Ezra, standing before me. His eyes were warm, and his smile reassuring.

"Calista," he said softly, "I'm sorry for the deception. I wanted to get to know you without the title and the expectations. I hope you can forgive me."

I nodded, my heart still pounding. "I understand. It’s just a lot to take in."

Ezra smiled, his eyes reflecting genuine warmth. “I wanted to find a girl who is good for my brother, not one who is throwing herself at royalty,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly to the Jamerson sisters.

I looked down, feeling a pang of self-doubt. “I’m afraid I’m too plain for your brother. He won't see me amongst these beautiful women."

Ezra thought for a moment, then extended his hand towards me. “May I have this dance?” My nerves fluttered. “I’ve never danced before,” I admitted.

“That’s alright,” he said with a reassuring smile. “I’ll guide you.”

As the music changed to a soft, elegant waltz, Ezra led me to the dance floor. The room seemed to hold its breath as everyone else left the floor, their eyes turning towards us. The attention was both exhilarating and daunting.

I whispered to Ezra, “Everyone’s watching us.” He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against my ear. “Even my brother’s eyes are on you now,” he murmured.

I glanced towards Prince Cyrus, who was observing us with a thoughtful expression. Ezra’s words made me even more nervous, but I focused on the warmth and steadiness of his hand as he guided me through the steps.

The first few moments were shaky, but Ezra’s calm presence made it easier. He moved gracefully, his confidence providing a steady rhythm for me to follow. As we twirled and glided across the floor, the initial awkwardness faded, replaced by a surprising sense of ease. Ezra’s touch was gentle but firm, leading me with a skill that seemed almost effortless.

“You’re doing beautifully,” he said softly, his eyes meeting mine. “Just follow my lead.” I nodded, trying to relax into the dance. The music swirled around us, and with each step, I felt more at ease. The elegant movements and the rhythm of the dance began to sweep away my anxieties.

Ezra’s gaze remained fixed on me, and despite the many eyes on us, I felt like we were alone in the ballroom, lost in our own world. His smile was encouraging, and there was a warmth in his eyes that made me feel special and valued.

As the dance came to an end, Ezra twirled me gracefully and led me back to the edge of the floor. The applause and whispers from the guests blended into a soft hum, but all I could focus on was Ezra’s reassuring presence.

“Thank you,” I said breathlessly. Ezra’s smile was gentle before he stepped away. I glanced around at the other guests, feeling a new sense of confidence. Prince Cyrus’s gaze still lingered on me, I bowed softly, and the Jamerson sisters looked at me with a mix of surprise and jealousy.

As the evening continued, I felt a renewed sense of hope. The palace, once so intimidating, now felt less daunting. Ezra's presence had transformed the grand, overwhelming space into something more manageable and welcoming. I no longer felt like a stranger in a foreign world but rather as though I had found a tentative ally in the midst of all the opulence and formality.

As I mingled with the other guests, I kept glancing over to where Ezra was conversing with his father and Prince Cyrus. Each time our eyes met, he offered a reassuring smile or a subtle nod, a reminder that I wasn’t alone in this grand and unfamiliar environment.

The evening wore on with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. I tried to engage with others, learning more about the palace and its guests, but my thoughts frequently drifted back to Ezra. He seemed to be making an effort to ensure that I felt included and valued, a gesture that was not lost on me.

Dinner was served, and the grand dining hall was filled with the clinking of silverware and the murmur of conversation. The long, opulent table stretched across the room, lined with guests in their finest attire. I had been placed at the far end of the table, a position that felt both isolated and distant from the heart of the evening’s events.

Prince Cyrus, seated at the head of the table next to his father, seemed to be in deep conversation with Ezra. After a brief exchange, a servant approached me, a polite but firm expression on their face. “Excuse me, Miss Calista. Prince Cyrus requests that you switch places with Lady Eliza.” My heart skipped a beat my eyes darted to Ezra, who was seated at the opposite end of the table. He met my gaze with a reassuring nod, and I took a deep breath, rising from my seat.

As I moved to the seat next to Prince Cyrus, I felt a mixture of nerves and excitement. Sitting closer to him, even if he wasn't directly engaging with me, felt like a small but significant shift in my favour.

The dinner continued, and Prince Cyrus and I sat in silence while he conversed with his father and brother. The conversation was animated, and though I was not directly involved, I could sense the undercurrents of the evening’s discussions. I kept my posture upright and my demeanour composed, doing my best to blend in and make a positive impression.

Ezra, seated across from us, seemed to notice my quiet discomfort. He leaned forward slightly, catching my eye with a supportive glance. “Lady Calista,” he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear, “you should know that your uncle is indeed highly regarded as a horse smith. His work is impressive, even by our standards.”

I smiled gratefully at Ezra’s attempt to include me in the conversation. “Thank you, your highness.” I replied softly. “He’s dedicated to his craft. It means a lot to me that you think highly of his work.”

Ezra nodded, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Perhaps he can find a spot amongst our staff at the tables.” Prince Cyrus glanced briefly at our exchange but quickly returned to his conversation with his father. I took comfort in Ezra’s presence and his efforts to make me feel more included.

As the dinner continued, the plates were cleared, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics. I found myself more at ease, aided by Ezra’s occasional attempts to draw me into the discussion. His kindness and the small gestures of support helped me feel less like an outsider.

At one point, Prince Cyrus turned his attention to me, his piercing green eyes assessing me with a new curiosity. “So, Calista,” he said, his tone polite but distant, “what do you think about the palace so far?”

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, trying to keep my response genuine yet tactful. “The palace is incredibly impressive,” I said, glancing around at the opulent surroundings. “It’s a world so different from my own, but it’s fascinating to experience it firsthand. I’m grateful for the opportunity.”

Prince Cyrus nodded, seeming to consider my words. “I’m glad you’re finding it intriguing. It’s not often we have guests from such different backgrounds.” the way he said those words, I had no idea if he liked of dislikes it. But the side eye to his brother was clear.

As the evening drew to a close, I retired to my chambers, my mind still buzzing from the day’s events. The opulence of the palace and the complexity of court life had left me both exhilarated and overwhelmed. The next morning, after a restless night, I decided to take a stroll through the palace grounds to clear my head and find some solace in the beauty of my surroundings.

I wandered through the vast corridors and winding paths until I discovered a hidden garden, a serene oasis of lush greenery and blooming flowers. At the heart of the garden was a tranquil lake, its surface reflecting the soft morning light. The atmosphere was peaceful, a stark contrast to the grandeur of the palace’s interior.

As I approached the lake, I spotted Prince Cyrus sitting on the edge, leaning on his hands, face towards the sun, his black shirt was slightly open, revealing a glimpse of his toned chest.

His presence was striking, and for a moment, I was captivated by his beauty. The sight of him in such a relaxed, informal setting was a departure from the formalities of the previous evening.

He looked nothing like his brother and yet, in some subtle ways, they were very much alike. My gaze must have lingered longer than intended, as Prince Cyrus turned and noticed me staring. I felt a flush of embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly, my cheeks heating. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Prince Cyrus’s eyes softened slightly, and he gestured for me to come closer. “No need to apologize, Calista. Please, join me.”

I hesitated for a moment, my heart racing as I approached him. The garden was peaceful, and the tranquillity seemed to offer a moment of reprieve from the grandeur of the palace. As I reached the edge of the lake, Prince Cyrus patted the grass beside him, inviting me to sit.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” he said, his voice warm and welcoming. I gingerly sat down on the grass next to him, the soft blades cushioning my weight. The morning sun cast a gentle glow over the scene, and the ripples on the lake shimmered in the light. Despite the initial awkwardness, the atmosphere felt surprisingly relaxed.

Prince Cyrus leaned back on his elbows, his gaze fixed on the water. “I often come here to find some peace away from the formalities of palace life. It’s a rare moment of solitude.”

I looked at him, noting how different he appeared. "It’s beautiful here,” I said, taking in the serene surroundings.

“It is,” he agreed, casting a sidelong glance at me. His expression grew more curious as he asked, “So, why are you here, Calista?”

I looked at him, slightly confused by his question. "I get the sense that you’re not entirely comfortable with attention and spotlight.” he added. “I suppose you’re right. I’m not used to being in the centre of attention. I’ve always been more of a behind-the-scenes kind of person.”

Cyrus smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I understand... Although, from what I saw last night, you handled the attention quite well while dancing in my brothers arms.” I felt a flush of warmth at the memory of our dance. It had been a moment of unexpected connection, and the compliment, even indirectly, made me feel good. “I suppose I did manage to hold my own,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Cyrus’s smile faltered slightly, and I noticed a flicker of displeasure in his eyes. “I see,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “Well, perhaps it’s not entirely surprising given the circumstances, he did meet you first.”

“Tell me,” Cyrus continued, his gaze intense and probing, “are you here for the throne, me, or my brother?”

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, trying to navigate the delicate balance of honesty and diplomacy. “I’m not here for the throne,” I began, choosing my words carefully. “I’m no queen, but my dream is for my family to have everything they can dream of."

"And hoping to be wed to a man who truly cares for me. Your brother must have seen something in me to bring me here, but beyond that, I do wish to meet you, my prince. Maybe next time, you could be faster and ask me to dance first.”

A flicker of something—perhaps surprise or amusement—crossed Cyrus’s face. His cold green eyes softened slightly, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips. “You certainly have a way with words, Calista.”

I smiled, hoping to defuse any lingering tension. “I only speak from the heart. I’m here to experience and to learn, and if that includes getting to know both you and your brother, then I’m open to it.”

Cyrus studied me for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “It’s not often that someone expresses their intentions so candidly. I suppose it’s refreshing in its own way.”

The brief moment of shared understanding seemed to bridge the gap between us. Despite his usual reserved demeanour, Cyrus appeared to appreciate the honesty and directness I had offered.

“I’ll keep your suggestion in mind,” Prince Cyrus said, his tone hard and final. It was clear that the conversation had reached its end, and I took it as my cue to leave. I bid him a polite farewell and made my way back through the palace, feeling a mix of emotions.

In the following days, the atmosphere in the palace grew increasingly tense. Only five girls remained from the initial group, and each of us had been assigned to participate in various courses designed to test our skills and suitability. Each night was filled with grand balls, and tonight was no exception.

I stood in the ballroom, surrounded by a sea of elegant gowns and glittering chandeliers. The air was thick with anticipation as guests mingled and the orchestra played a lively tune. Despite the festive atmosphere, I felt a pang of unease. I hadn’t seen Ezra in what felt like forever, and his absence was a notable void.

As I scanned the room, I noticed a distinct emptiness where Ezra's throne usually was. I had grown accustomed to his reassuring presence, and his absence was keenly felt. The remaining girls, each vying for the prince’s attention, were not particularly kind or supportive. Their whispers and glances were sharp, and I felt the weight of their scrutiny.

Prince Cyrus, dressed in his customary black, eventually stood and walked onto the dance floor. My heart skipped a beat when I realized he was making his way toward me. The realization came late, and I almost missed the opportunity to prepare myself.

He approached with a measured stride, his expression inscrutable. “Calista,” he said, extending his hand. “May I have this dance?”

I hesitated for a moment, then placed my hand in his. His touch was firm and commanding, and I felt the strength in his grip through the layers of my heavy gown. We began to move in sync with the music, and as we danced, I could feel the eyes of the other girls on us.

Prince Cyrus leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “You dance well,” he murmured. “Though, of course, the competition is fierce. It’s interesting to see how some of you handle the pressure.”

I tried to focus on the dance and not let his words unsettle me. “Thank you, Your Highness,” I said softly, attempting to maintain my composure.

His whispers continued, each one laced with veiled criticism. “You have a certain grace, though it’s clear you are still learning the ways of the court,” he said, his voice carrying an edge. “It’s a challenging environment, and not everyone can adapt as quickly as others. May I suggest you spend some time in our library, learning about our past.”

I felt a tightening in my chest as he spoke. His compliments, though seemingly kind on the surface, were undercut with reminders of my perceived inadequacies. The way he spoke made it clear that while he acknowledged my presence, he saw me as still falling short of the expectations of court life.

Despite the sting of his words, I tried to focus on the positive aspects of our interaction. The dance itself was a reprieve from the tense atmosphere, and the closeness of our bodies in motion provided a rare moment of connection.

As the music came to an end, Prince Cyrus guided me back to my seat beside him. The transition was smooth, but the weight of the moment felt heavy. The other girls—those remaining in the competition—shot me sharp, envious glances. I could feel their eyes on me, a mix of irritation and speculation.

I took my seat, trying to steady my breathing. Despite the intimate dance and the seemingly special attention from Prince Cyrus, he remained silent, his gaze turned toward the dance floor or engaged in conversation with other guests. His aloofness was disheartening, especially after the whispered comments he had made during our dance.

The silence between us was palpable, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I had done something wrong or if I was simply not meeting his expectations. The discomfort of being so close to him while receiving no further attention made me feel uneasy. I glanced at him occasionally, hoping for some sign of recognition or a hint of his thoughts, but he remained distant.

Despite this, I tried to focus on the positive. The fact that I was sitting beside him, even if it felt uncomfortable and isolating, indicated that I was still in the running. Prince Cyrus��s silence was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it meant there was less chance of making a misstep in conversation. On the other, it left me wondering about his true feelings and whether my efforts were making any impact.

The hours passed, and eventually, the event began to wind down. Prince Cyrus remained reserved, his interactions with me minimal but polite. As the guests began to depart, he offered a brief nod in my direction, a gesture that felt both formal and dismissive.

I stood up, preparing to leave, and took one last look at the prince. Despite his earlier remarks and the chilly distance, I hoped that my persistence and adaptability would eventually be recognized but he did not once look at me again.

In the solitude of my room, the grandeur of the palace felt like an empty shell. I missed the warmth of my family, the comfort of familiar surroundings, and, oddly enough, Ezra’s reassuring presence. The opulence of the palace, though dazzling, seemed hollow without the connections that truly mattered.

The next morning, my maid who seemed to wake me every morning needed to be my ally for the day, hoping to learn more about Ezra. “Where is Prince Ezra?” I asked, trying to keep the concern out of my voice.

She looked up from brushing my hair, her expression somber. “He is out on a mission for the King. It’s one of his frequent duties. The King relies heavily on him.”

I nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment. I had hoped to see Ezra soon, to find some solace in familiar company. “Can you tell me more about Prince Cyrus, he seems slightly younger than Ezra, yet I hear he is crown prince?” I inquired, curious about the prince whose presence seemed to dominate the palace.

The maid hesitated, as if choosing her words carefully. “Prince Cyrus is indeed the one who will inherit the throne, if he finds a wife." she began. “However, it’s known that he is not well-liked by the people. He’s very much like his father—stern, cold, and focused on maintaining power through conflict.”

I listened intently, trying to piece together the dynamics of the royal family. “And Prince Ezra?” I prompted gently.

“Ezra is the oldest son,” she continued, her voice softening. “He chose not to take on the role of crown prince. He believes he is not fit to rule, and his decision has caused quite a bit of tension. He’s more like his mother, who was kind and compassionate, ruled with her heart, but she passed away some years ago.”

Her words painted a clearer picture of the complex relationships within the royal family. “So, Ezra does a lot of the King’s work?”

“Yes,” the maid confirmed. “Ezra often handles tasks and missions that the King delegates, especially those that involve delicate or dangerous matters. The King values him for his skills and dedication, though it means Ezra often bears the brunt of the Kingdom’s more difficult affairs.”

The maid’s explanation helped me understand the dynamics I had witnessed. Ezra’s absence now made more sense in the context of his role and responsibilities. It also shed light on the strained relationship between the princes and their father.

“Is there anything else I should know about Prince Cyrus or the royal family?” I asked, seeking more insight into the world I was navigating.

The maid glanced around to ensure no one else was listening, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Rumor has it that Prince Cyrus is hesitant to marry, or at least, he’s reluctant to make anyone his queen. There’s a lot of speculation about why.”

I leaned in, my curiosity piqued. “Why is that?”

She continued quietly, her eyes darting around to make sure we weren’t overheard. “There’s talk that Cyrus fears betrayal. His former lover only wanted to marry him to kill him. Since he ordered to kill her former husband. The incident left a mark on him, and he’s wary of trusting anyone who might have the ambition or opportunity to undermine him.” I felt a chill at the mention of such intrigue. “So, is that why he seems so distant and guarded?”

The maid's eyes flickered with a hint of caution as she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “There’s another version of the story that circulates among the servants and courtiers. Some say that Prince Cyrus’s former lover ran off with Prince Ezra.”

I was taken aback. “Ran off with Ezra? What do you mean?” She nodded gravely. “Yes, it’s said that she shared a bed with him, no longer being pure, it would also explain why Ezra stepped down.”

“Cyrus’s feelings toward Ezra are clouded by resentment and suspicion. Not only affected their personal relationship but has also created a rift within the royal family. Ezra, despite his own sense of duty and honour, bears the brunt of Cyrus’s distrust.”

This new perspective on the relationship between Cyrus and Ezra deepened the intrigue surrounding the palace. It was evident that personal betrayals and rivalries had significant impacts on the dynamics within the royal family.

"What if Cyrus doesn't marry? My maid looked at me and said. "If the King dies and the crown prince isn't married, the other gods in this realm will get a chance for the thrown via politics. And both Ezra and Cyrus will be killed."

“Thank you for sharing this,” I said, trying to process the gravity of what I had learned.

That night, rest was elusive. The weight of the day's revelations and the uneasy atmosphere in the palace made sleep nearly impossible. Driven by a mix of curiosity and a need to clear my mind, I wandered through the castle’s quiet corridors, my footsteps echoing softly on the marble floors.

I decided to do more research on the god and theor powers, learning only the god king and his childres posses the magic, the divine that gives them power to rule. When killed the power is giving to the one who killed, Marriage of the crown prince will secure the bloodline, Children can only be born from a mortal and a god...

After reading all the books I could, since the others were is foreign languages. I found myself hungry and drawn to the kitchen. The grand palace, despite its splendor, felt eerily empty at night. The only light came from the flickering lanterns, casting long shadows that seemed to dance on the walls.

Approaching the kitchen, I heard the soft rustle of movement. When I peered inside, I was startled to see Prince Ezra standing by the pantry, his shirt off and his back to me. His movements were slow and cautious, and it was clear he was in pain.

I hesitated for a moment, but then stepped inside. “Prince Ezra?” I called softly, not wanting to startle him. “What are you doing up?”

He turned to face me, his expression a mixture of surprise and discomfort. His usually confidents were replaced with a look of weariness and distress. “Calista,” he said, his voice strained. “I didn’t expect to see anyone. Please just Ezra.”

I noticed the fresh bandages wrapped around his ribs, but they were not sufficient for the injuries I could see. “You’re hurt,” I observed, taking a step closer. “Let me help.”

Ezra seemed to hesitate, but then nodded, resigned. “Thank you.” He sat down on a nearby stool, and I fetched a first-aid kit from a cabinet. As I prepared the supplies, I couldn’t help but notice the freckles scattered across his chest, mirroring the ones on his face. The contrast between his rugged exterior and the vulnerability he displayed was striking.

Carefully, I began to clean the wound on his ribs. Ezra winced slightly as I worked, but he remained still, his focus on the small plate of food he had taken from the pantry. The warmth of his skin against my fingers was unexpected, and I felt a flush of warmth spread through me, mixing with the concern I felt for his injuries.

“I didn’t expect to find you here,” I said, trying to keep the conversation light despite the seriousness of the situation. “How did this happen?”

Ezra sighed, looking away. “It’s nothing too serious. Just a skirmish with some troublemakers. It’s part of the job.”

I nodded, concentrating on cleaning the wound and applying a fresh bandage. The silence between us was punctuated only by the soft rustling of fabric and the occasional clink of the utensils as I worked. The intimacy of the moment, combined with the vulnerability he displayed, created a strange but comforting connection.

As I finished bandaging his wound, I looked up at Ezra, my hands lingering on his shoulders. “You should be more careful, Ezra. The palace needs you.”

He met my gaze, his green eyes warm in the soft yellow light of the kitchen. A faint smile touched his lips. “Only the palace?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint something deeper.

I felt a flutter of warmth spread through me at the way he looked at me. It was as if his eyes were trying to understand something more than just the immediate situation. My pulse quickened, and I felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

I handed him his shirt, but he didn’t immediately put it on. Instead, he took a step closer to me, closing the space between us. The proximity made my heart race, and I could feel the heat of his body, a contrast to the cool night air.

I shifted uneasily, unsure of what to do. “You should—” I began, but my voice faltered as he stepped even closer. His presence was both comforting and overwhelming, and I felt a surge of emotions that I wasn’t entirely prepared for.

Ezra’s gaze remained fixed on me, his expression serious but gentle. “Calista,” he said softly, his hand reaching out to gently touch my arm. The warmth of his touch made my heart race, and I felt a surge of emotions that were difficult to suppress. His eyes landed on my lips.

I stepped forward, my hand instinctively finding its place on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath my fingertips. His eyes held mine with an intensity that seemed to search for the right words.

He swallowed, his voice steady, the atmosphere changed again. “You are exactly what my brother needs.” Confusion clouded my thoughts, and I blinked, trying to make sense of his words. “Only what your brother needs?” I asked feeling bold yet afraid to speak louder than a whisper.

I swore I saw Ezra's lips part while he ever so slow bended down towards me. His hand dropped to my side. My body leaned into him by lifting me on my toes.

Ezra’s expression softened as he looked away, he looked down for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I have to go. T-thank you for...” He pointed to his side before he pulled his shirt over his head and left in the dark hallway.

Leaving me alone, in the kitchen.

-------------------

What do you guys think? Good enough to continue?

Tag list:-> If you want to be added let me know.

@jackles010378 @headinthemoon87

#Forged #Jensen Ackles #luke evans #original story idea #original character #Calista #FMC #love triangle #gods #knights

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cheynovak · 5 months ago

Text

Forged - Part six (final)

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral sex, fighting, bloodshed, ...

English is not my first language

Words: 6300

Part 6 out of 6

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

“What got into you?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with curiosity.

I turned to face him, a smile playing on my lips. “I’m done being a pawn for your brother, and I don't want you to be one either.” I said, his eyes softened as he took in my words. A deep, genuine smile spread across his face, reflecting the joy and relief that matched my own. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead, his touch tender and affectionate. my voice steady and filled with conviction. “It is my turn to take what I want.” I added and kissed him again

And what I wanted, from the beginning, was Ezra.

I woke up to the gentle warmth of sunlight on my skin... No, it wasn’t the sun. It was Ezra's warmth, radiating like the morning light, I slowly opened my eyes, not wanting to let go just yet. I realized he was still asleep, his arm draped protectively over me.

His presence felt like a safety I hadn't known I needed, grounding me in a way that made the world outside of this room seem distant and unimportant. My face rested against his toned chest, and I could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips.

I smiled to myself as I traced the soft freckles scattered across his chest, my fingers moving lightly over his skin. The memories of last night played vividly in my mind. We couldn’t get enough of each other, our passion overwhelming and undeniable. It wasn’t just physical; it was something deeper, something that finally aligned my mind and heart.

For the first time in a long while, everything felt right. My doubts, my fears, they all faded away in the light of the truth I had found. Ezra was who I wanted, who I needed. The thought filled me with a sense of peace and certainty I hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever.

Ezra shifted slightly in his sleep, his arm tightening around me as if he sensed my thoughts. I nestled closer, closing my eyes again, content to stay wrapped in this moment for as long as I could.

By the time he woke up, it was almost noon. We had shifted during the morning, and I had fallen asleep again, my body still tucked against his, his arm under my head, but I lay on my stomach. I felt a soft pressure on my back, waking to the sensation of gentle kisses trailing along my bare skin. “Good morning,” he whispered in my ear, his voice warm and tender as his other hand rested on my hip.

I turned toward him, still drowsy but filled with a sense of contentment, and kissed him deeply, pulling him closer, wanting to lose myself in him again. But he held back slightly, his expression shifting as he gently asked, “Ready to tell me what happened last night.” I tried to joke and said, "I don't know about you, but I had mind blowing sex with a god." He smiled softly but was still concerned. "Calista..." he whispered to show he expected a real answer from me.

My mood darkened, and he noticed the change immediately. I hesitated, the words catching in my throat, but I knew I had to tell him. “I saw Cyrus... and Sara,” I began, my voice trembling. “They’re romantically involved, I that I don’t even care about.” I had to clarify before he thought I wanted him only for payback. “I overheard them talking... Cyrus admitted that the poison was hers. He is the one who has been poisoning me from the start. I don’t know why, but now he wants me gone. I don’t know if your aunt even had anything to do with the poison...” Or your fathers dead I thought.

The air seemed to thicken with tension as my words sank in. Ezra’s face went from concern to a cold, controlled fury. He sat up, his muscles tensing as he processed what I had just revealed. His eyes darkened, and I could feel the anger radiating from him like a storm about to break.

“He’s been poisoning you, hurting you... I thought he wanted you.” His voice was low, but the fury in it was unmistakable. He clenched his fists, his breath shaking with rage. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Ezra, please—”

“No, Calista,” he cut me off, standing up from the bed, pacing with an intensity I hadn’t seen before. his anger still simmering beneath the surface. I jumped out of bed, the sheets still wrapped around me, and moved to stand in front of him, blocking his path. His eyes met mine, and I could see the storm within them starting to calm, though it hadn't completely subsided.

“I need to find out exactly what happened, what he is planning.” I said softly, trying to reach him through his anger. “If you go after him now, it’ll only make you look like the jealous brother who wants the throne.”

He paused, his jaw clenched, clearly struggling with the idea. His hands, which had been balled into fists, slowly relaxed. “You’re right,” he finally admitted, though the reluctance was evident in his voice. “But I can’t just stand by and do nothing.”

“We won’t,” I assured him, placing a hand on his arm. “But we have to be smart about this. We need to gather evidence, find out what their plan is and ask the council to reconsider his title, to help us. If we confront them now, without proof, it’ll be our word against theirs.”

He looked at me, the fire in his eyes still flickering but controlled now. “I won’t let them hurt you, Calista. I’ll won’t be able to hold myself back if he does.”

“I know,” I whispered, my heart aching with the weight of everything that had happened. “But we have to be careful.” I rested my head against his chest, feeling the angry fast beat of his heart. Ezra spoke, voicing the thought I had been dreading all morning.

“You have to go in a minute,” he said quietly, his hand gently stroking my hair. “He’ll be wondering why you didn’t spend the night with him.” I huffed, a bitter edge to my voice as I replied, “He probably stayed with Sara, he didn’t miss me. I hope you know I don’t spend every night with him.” Ezra shook his head, doubt etched in his features. “But you did spend at least one together.” he said while his finger moved through my darkened hair and he looked deep in my eyes, I knew he saw the divine swirling deep down mixed in the brown color. But all he said was “He sent me to search for you last night. He’s suspicious, Calista.”

The reality of the situation hit me like a cold wave. As much as I wanted to stay in this moment, wrapped in Ezra’s warmth and safety, I knew he was right. I had to return before Cyrus became too suspicious, before he started asking questions, I wasn’t ready to answer. I sighed, pulling away from Ezra slightly to look up at him. “I hate this,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,�� he said softly, his fingers still brushing over my hair. Though the thought of leaving him felt like a weight in my chest. “I’ll go,” I said reluctantly, “but promise me you’ll be careful too. We can’t let them know we’re onto them.” Ezra’s expression softened, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. “I promise,” he said. “I’ll keep my distance and gather what I can. You just focus on keeping up appearances.”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the role I had to play. “I’ll do my best,” I said, pulling away from him completely. As I dressed, the reality of the situation settled heavily on my shoulders. But I knew one thing for certain: I wasn’t going to let Cyrus and Sara’s schemes destroy everything. Not without a fight.

The next few days were awful, a twisted game of pretence that drained every ounce of my energy. I forced myself to be the perfect wife, smiling and playing the role I was expected to, even as my heart was heavy with betrayal and anger.

Cyrus held me close whenever we were together, his touch sending cold shivers down my spine instead of the warmth I once felt. He asked me about that night, suspicion flickering in his eyes as he questioned where I had been.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” I lied, keeping my voice steady. “I needed some air, so I walked outside. By the time I got back, it was late, and I didn’t want to disturb you, so I stayed in my own room.”

He studied me for a moment, his eyes searching mine for any hint of deception. I held my breath, praying he would believe me, that he wouldn’t see through the facade I had carefully constructed.

Finally, he nodded, though I could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced. “Alright,” he said, his tone more resigned than trusting. “But next time, let me know. I don’t like not knowing where you are.”

I forced a smile, nodding in agreement. “Of course,” I replied, though the words tasted bitter on my tongue.

I planned an afternoon in the garden with Micah, hoping for some semblance of normalcy in the midst of the chaos swirling around me. The sun was bright, casting a warm glow over the meticulously tended flowers and lush greenery. Micah, with his boundless energy and infectious laughter, was a welcome distraction from the heavy burden I carried.

As we wandered through the garden, stopping to admire the blooming roses and chase after butterflies, I caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. Turning my head slightly, I saw Cyrus and Sara walking in the hall that overlooked the garden.

They were the picture of decorum, keeping a respectful distance from one another as they casually talked. From an outsider's perspective, they appeared nothing like the intimate, conspiratorial duo I had witnessed on the night of the coronation. Their body language was impeccable, carefully calculated to project an image of professionalism and politeness.

But I knew better.

Seeing them like this only deepened the pit of anger and resentment that had been growing inside me since that night.

Micah tugged on my hand, drawing my attention back to him. "Come on, let's go see the pond!" he exclaimed, his eyes bright with excitement. I forced a smile, nodding as I let him lead me away, trying to push the image of Cyrus and Sara out of my mind.

As Micah tossed bits of bread into the pond, delighting in the way the fish eagerly swarmed the surface, I felt a presence behind me. Turning slightly, I saw Sara approaching, her steps cautious and her expression carefully composed. There was something almost predatory about her demeanor, a subtle hint of calculation in her eyes as she drew closer.

"Calista," she began, her tone unusually soft, almost contrite. "I wanted to apologize. Cyrus and I had a conversation, and he convinced me that I should give you the respect you deserve." She offered a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, as if she were trying to portray sincerity but failing to hide the underlying tension.

I returned her smile, though mine was edged with the knowledge of her true intentions. This was no genuine apology; it was a move in the game she and Cyrus were playing. But two could play at that.

"It’s wise of you to recognize that," I replied smoothly, my voice carrying a calm authority. "After all, I am your queen now." I allowed the title to hang between us, letting it sink in. "And going forward, I think it would be more appropriate for you to address me as such, rather than by my name."

Sara’s smile faltered for the briefest moment, a flicker of something dark passing through her eyes. But she recovered quickly, bowing her head slightly in acknowledgment. "Of course, Your Majesty," she said, the words coming out a bit stiffly, as if they were difficult for her to utter.

Satisfied, I turned my attention back to Micah, who was still engrossed in feeding the fish, oblivious to the tension between the two of us. But I kept Sara in my peripheral vision, aware that this interaction was just another step in the silent war that had been brewing since the night of the coronation.

Sara may have come to play her part, but I was no longer the naive girl who could be easily manipulated. I had seen through their game, and now I was determined to play it on my own terms.

That evening, as the dinner progressed, I noticed Cyrus leaving the table earlier than usual. He mentioned a council meeting, his voice smooth and nonchalant, but there was a glint in his eye that made me suspicious. He'd been doing this often lately, slipping away with vague excuses, and each time, my frustration grew.

I waited a few minutes after he left, then excused myself from the table as well. I hurried through the corridors, trying to catch up to him. But once again, as I turned the corner where I was sure he had gone, I found nothing but an empty hallway. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. My pulse quickened, a mix of anger and determination burning within me.

This pattern had been repeating itself over the past few weeks, and each time I tried to follow him, I ended up lost or misled. Cyrus was careful, too careful, and it was driving me mad. I needed to know where he was going and what he was doing, especially now that I knew the truth about his treachery. But no matter how hard I tried, he always managed to slip away, leaving me with nothing but unanswered questions and mounting frustration.

I returned to my chambers, the heavy weight of suspicion and helplessness pressing down on me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever he was up to, it was something that could put me in even greater danger. I knew I had to be smarter, more strategic, if I wanted to uncover his secrets.

A knock on the door startled me, pulling me out of my thoughts. My heart leapt, thinking it might be Cyrus, but when I opened the door, I found Ezra standing there, looking over his shoulder hoping no one saw him. Relief washed over me, quickly followed by a surge of longing. Without a word, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his eyes filled with a desperate need. Before I could say anything, his lips crashed into mine, a kiss with an intensity that made my knees weak.

We had been apart for over a week, Cyrus had sent Ezra away on some mission, and the longing we felt was palpable in every touch, every breath. I could feel how much he had missed me in the way his hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer as if he couldn’t bear the thought of being apart any longer.

I responded with equal fervour, my fingers tangling in his hair as I deepened the kiss, our bodies and hearts reconnecting after the forced separation. The need, the desperation, the love, it was all there, woven into each kiss, each touch. This had been our way of coping, sneaking away to a room, pulling him aside in a dark hallway, sneaking around in the night in the castle, all while stealing passioned kisses and occasionally even making love when there was time. All though he never let himself go like the first night. The idea of me having his child, it would mean the end of us all, especially since I refused to sleep with Cyrus anymore.

Finally, we pulled apart, both of us breathless, our foreheads resting against each other as we tried to steady our racing hearts. His hands were still on my waist, holding me close as if afraid I might slip away.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. “I missed you too,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. Ezra’s gaze softened as he looked at me, a mix of concern and desire in his eyes. “Did you find anything?” he asked while I guided him to the edge of the bed and pushed him gently to sit down, his eyes following my movements with an unreadable expression.

I shook my head in response to his question as I knelt in front of him, I worked at the fastenings of his pants. His hands found my chin, tilting it up so he could look directly into my eyes. “It’s not the best time for this, Calista,” he said, his voice filled with a combination of urgency and tenderness. “Cyrus wants me to report what happened.”

I smiled, my eyes glinting with mischief and determination. “Then let’s make this quick, just enjoy.” I replied, my tone laced with both playful defiance and a sense of urgency. I gently pulled his hands away from my face, guiding them down to his sides as I continued to work on his pants.

With a soft chuckle, he leaned back, his expression shifting to one of acceptance and eager anticipation. “You’re determined,” he murmured, his eyes dark with desire. “Absolutely,” I replied, my fingers deftly finishing their task. “I’ve missed you too much to wait any longer.”

The room was filled with the soft rustling of fabric and the quiet hum of anticipation as I settled myself in front of him, with a final, soft touch of my hands on his thighs, I looked up at him, my eyes locking onto his while taking his half hard member in my mouth. Ezra’s breath hitched as he watched me, his hands finding their way back to my hair, ready to respond to my every touch.

Knowing I had just enough time to pleasure him before Cyrus expected us.

I was sitting beside Cyrus in the throne room, I found it difficult to mask the tumultuous emotions that churned inside me. Especially after Ezra had the great idea a few nights back, before his task, to pleasure me right here, right on my throne, while kneeling before me, his face between my thighs, it took me everything in my power not to scream his name through these walls. The room now, was filled with the soft murmur of advisors and the occasional rustling of fabric as dignitaries moved about. Cyrus sat tall and imposing on the throne, his demeanour regal and composed, but his eyes betrayed an underlying tension.

The knowledge that Ezra had discovered Cyrus’s intentions on his trip, to expand territory through military force weighed heavily on me. Ezra's revelations had shaken my world. The notion of a coming war, the potential suffering, and the risk of losing everything we, humans had fought for plagued my thoughts.

In addition, Ezra had discovered a medicine woman in the town who offered him a medicinal potion that could prevent pregnancy, a revelation he had shared right before we walked out to the room we were sitting in now, I looked over at him, wanting to rip the clothes off and take him right then and there. The idea of being with Ezra, of escaping the harsh reality of my marriage and the impending conflict, was almost overwhelming.

Cyrus's attention was focused on a scroll that was being presented by one of his advisors. As he reviewed it, I leaned closer, my mind still preoccupied with Ezra’s words and the gravity of the situation yet unable to not stare at that beautiful man in front of me.

Cyrus's voice broke through my thoughts. "You seem distant, Calista. Is everything alright?" I turned to him, forcing a reassuring smile. "Everything is fine, my king," I replied, though my mind was far from calm. "Just... thinking about the future." Cyrus nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer. He returned to his scroll, but I could sense that he was still observant, his eyes occasionally darting toward me.

As the discussions continued around us, my thoughts wandered back to Ezra and the intimate moments we had shared. The urgency in his voice, the desire in his eyes, it all felt so real and immediate. The tension between us was palpable, a constant reminder of the unspoken bond we shared.

I knew that in this precarious position, I had to maintain my composure. I glanced at Cyrus, who was now engaged in a heated discussion with one of his advisors. Suddenly, Cyrus stood up abruptly, his anger palpable as he announced the cancellation of the meeting and stormed out. Confused but sensing an opportunity, I exchanged glances with Ezra. He gave me a subtle nod, signalling that I should follow him.

I trailed behind Ezra as he slipped through a concealed door leading into a tunnel. My curiosity and concern drove me to follow him into the dimly lit passage. As we moved deeper, we came upon a clandestine meeting where Cyrus was conversing with Sara and a few other high-ranking council members.

The conversation I overheard was shocking. They were plotting to invade my old world, with the intention of enslaving its people. Cyrus revealed that he needed me to act as a lure since the humans trusted me, given my past connection with them. Everything began to make sense. It was all part of Cyrus’s plan to use me for his own gain.

He had intended to keep me drugged to ensure my compliance and eventually use me to manipulate and betray my former world. If that plan worked, he was to keep me out of the public eye, with the ultimate goal of eliminating me once his objectives were met. The drugging had been a mistake; rather than merely making me ill, it had caused me to faint. His first real strategy was to avoid marrying me and claim the throne unchallenged, but that didn’t worked out, so now he was using me as a pawn to lure and then eliminate my people.

The older man in the group questioned Cyrus about Ezra’s involvement, noting that Ezra was stronger than him. Cyrus dismissed the concern with a confident tone, saying, "Once Calista is gone, Ezra will willingly end his own life."

Another member of the council asked how Cyrus planned held the people, not to turn against him if I was dead. Cyrus remained silent, his gaze shifting toward the door behind which I was hiding. Realizing I had been discovered, I panicked and fled, fearing that I might be caught.

I ran through the dimly lit corridors, my heart pounding as if it might burst from my chest. My breaths came in sharp, ragged gasps, and I felt a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm me. The weight of what I had overheard pressed down on me, making me feel lightheaded and unsteady.

Finally, I reached Ezra’s door, my trembling hand knocking urgently. When he opened it, his face shifted from confusion to concern as he took in my pale, distressed appearance.

“Calista, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice filled with worry.

“I... I overheard something,” I managed to say, my voice barely more than a whisper. I took a deep breath, struggling to steady myself. “Cyrus... he’s planning to enslave the humans, to have me killed. He’s using me to lure the people from my old world and then... He even said he wants you dead, you would end your own life once I’m gone.” My knees nearly giving way. “ I heard them talking. They’re planning to take over my old world and enslave the humans. Cyrus wanted to use me to manipulate them. I don’t know what to do... I’m so scared.”

As the night deepened, my anxiety grew. I paced Ezra’s room, my thoughts racing. Where was he? He had left earlier, saying he needed to make plans for our escape, but now the room felt suffocatingly quiet. I had hoped he would return by now with a plan or some news.

A soft knock on the door startled me. I opened it to find Marie standing there, her clothes torn and face bruised. Before I could react, two guards stepped out from behind her, grabbing me with rough hands. I struggled against their hold, but their grip was unyielding as they dragged me through the corridors.

My heart pounded as we were led to the throne room. The grand doors swung open, revealing a chilling scene. Ezra was on his knees in front of Cyrus, bound by some spell Cyrus casted, his hands and feet covered in a dark purple glow, Cyrus, who stood with a wicked, triumphant smile. The sight made my blood run cold.

Cyrus’s gaze locked onto me as I was roughly thrown into the room. “Spying on me, Calista?” he taunted, his voice dripping with malice. “I underestimated you.”

My eyes darted to Ezra, who looked up at me with a mixture of defeat and sorrow. My stomach churned with fear and helplessness. I tried to steady my voice, but it came out trembling. “What is this? What do you want?”

Cyrus's smile widened. “You’ve been quite a thorn in my side. I should have known you wouldn’t be easily controlled. Now, it seems we have a lot to discuss.” His eyes flicked to Ezra, then back to me. “You see, my plans have been set in motion, and you used to be a crucial part of them.” The guards held me tightly as Cyrus began to explain his scheme, and I could only watch in horror, knowing that Ezra and I were running out of time.

He approached me with a menacing calmness, his expression dark and unreadable. He cupped my face in his hands, his touch chilling against my skin. "Calista," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "if you kept my little secret to yourself, I wouldn’t have to end Ezra’s life...so soon."

I struggled to keep my composure, trying to process his threat. "I should have known it was him," he continued, his eyes narrowing. "I knew you were betraying me, but my own brother?" A harsh laugh escaped me, cold and hollow. "You betrayed me first," I spat out, unable to hide my bitterness. “ No no no, we made a deal.” he said walking over to Ezra. “You never said anything about slavery or invading a world not yours to take.” I spit out.

Cyrus’s face contorted with rage, his voice rising to a roar. "I am the king!" he bellowed, the authority in his tone echoing through the vast chamber. “You will do as I command, or you will suffer the consequences. No one defies me and lives to tell the tale.”

Cyrus’s face twisted into a sinister smile as he stepped toward Ezra, the blade in his hand glowing ominously with a deep purple hue. The air around us grew heavy with tension, the room seemingly vibrating with the dark energy of the blade.

Ezra, still kneeling, looked up at Cyrus with defiance and fear mingling in his eyes. Cyrus yanked Ezra’s head back roughly, exposing his throat. My heart pounded in my chest, a desperate panic rising like a wildfire. I tried to call out, my voice cracking with fear and desperation, begging Cyrus to stop.

“No, please!” I shouted, my voice trembling. “Don’t do this! I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt him!” I knew I wouldn’t be able to take him down, I wasn’t nearly as strong or fast. Especially now Cyrus his guard held me back.

Cyrus’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. He ignored my pleas, the blade cold and unyielding against Ezra’s skin. I watched in horror as the tip of the blade pressed into Ezra’s throat, a thin line of blood beginning to seep from the wound.

The sight of Ezra’s blood triggered something deep within me. It was as if an explosive force within me awakened, fuelled by the very power Cyrus had carelessly gifted me. I felt an immense surge of energy coursing through my veins, the power that had lain dormant now roaring to life.

I screamed in agony and fury, the sound escaping my lips like a primal roar. The room around us seemed to convulse with the force of my cry. The walls shook violently, and a powerful shockwave of energy erupted from my body.

The force of the explosion sent everyone—Cyrus, Ezra, the guards, and even Marie—crashing against the walls with bone-jarring impacts. The throne room, once a symbol of opulence and control, was now filled with chaos and destruction. The furniture shattered, the tapestries ripped from their hangings, and debris scattered across the floor.

Cyrus was thrown back, his wicked grin replaced by an expression of shock and rage as he struggled to regain his footing. Ezra, thrown off balance but still alive, looked at me with a mixture of awe and concern. Marie lay unconscious, her face pale and battered from the force of the blast. Breathing heavily, I stood amidst the wreckage, my body trembling from the exertion of the unleashed power.

Cyrus roared with fury, his eyes blazing with a wrathful fire as he advanced on me. The throne room, now became the stage for our final confrontation. His attacks were brutal and unrelenting, each blow landing with bone-crushing force. I staggered under the weight of his strikes, my body growing weaker with every hit, but through the pain, I maintained a wide, defiant grin.

Cyrus’s anger intensified as he pummelled me, his face a mask of rage and confusion. “You thought you could outsmart me?” he spat, each word punctuated by another vicious blow. “You thought your pathetic power could hurt me?”

I met his gaze, blood streaming from my wounds, my breath coming in ragged gasps. “I never needed to hurt you,” I said, my voice strained but resolute. “Just distract you.”

His confusion deepened, and for a brief moment, his guard lowered. It was in that crucial instant that the golden light began to fill the room. The air crackled with a newfound energy, an overwhelming radiance that pushed back the shadows and the oppressive weight of Cyrus’s malevolence. The power surged through the room, bathing everything in a brilliant, otherworldly blinding glow.

Cyrus’s expression shifted from rage to bewilderment as he looked around, recognising, understanding the source of this sudden, divine light. It was then that the sound of the blade piercing flesh sliced through the tension. Ezra, with a fierce determination in his eyes, had driven his sword through Cyrus’s chest. The golden glow intensified around the blade, searing through Cyrus’s defences.

Cyrus’s eyes widened in shock and pain, his strength faltering as the blade cut deeper. The purple haze in his eyes began to fade, replaced by a clear ash green. The blade glowed with an ethereal light, reflecting the purity of Ezra’s intent and the justice of the moment.

As the sword drove through Cyrus’s heart, the golden energy reached its peak, engulfing the throne room in a blinding brilliance. The air was filled with the sound of Sara’s piercing scream, a sound of horror and disbelief. The council members stood frozen, their faces pale and eyes wide, unable to process the sudden turn of events.

Cyrus gasped, his body convulsing as the life drained from him. The once-mighty king, who had seemed invincible just moments before, was now collapsing under the weight of his own hubris and the divine justice meted out by Ezra’s blade. His expression was a mix of rage, disbelief, and ultimate defeat.

Ezra stood over him, the blade still embedded in Cyrus’s chest, his own breath heavy with the exertion of the battle. The golden light slowly dimmed, the radiance fading but leaving a lingering warmth in the air. He pulled the sword free, wiping the blood from the blade with a grim expression.

I watched as Cyrus fell to the floor, his body lifeless, the throne room now silent except for the distant, echoing cries of Sara and the hushed murmurs of the council. The room was bathed in the last remnants of the golden light, casting a serene glow over the chaotic scene.

I saw Ezra’s gaze shift from Sara and the corrupt council members to the rest of the room. His expression was a blend of resolve and concern as he assessed the aftermath of the chaos. But just as I tried to focus on him, the world around me started to spin and blur. The strain, the adrenaline, and the overwhelming emotions were too much. Darkness closed in, and I fainted.

When I regained consciousness, the first thing I heard was Micah’s voice. “Will she wake up soon?” he asked, his tone filled with concern. The sound of his voice was soothing, a small anchor in the midst of my disorientation.

I stirred, my eyes fluttering open. The room was dim, the remnants of the golden light now faded to a soft glow. As my vision cleared, I saw Ezra standing near me, his presence both commanding and comforting. He looked every bit the god he was, his features illuminated with a serene and powerful aura. His eyes, a deep and intense shade, were locked onto mine with a look of profound relief and affection.

Ezra’s face softened as he saw me wake. “Calista,” he murmured, his voice a gentle caress against the backdrop of the room’s quiet. His form was like a beacon in the dim light, a pillar of strength amidst the remnants of turmoil.

I looked at him and knew I was safe.

A year had passed since the tumultuous events that had reshaped our lives. Ezra had locked away all who had followed Cyrus and ruled like a true king.

Today, I found myself standing on the cusp of a new chapter, enveloped in a sense of serene joy. I wore my mother’s simple white wedding gown, a garment that had seen decades of love and now draped over me with a poignant sense of continuity. The gown’s fabric was light and ethereal, with delicate lace trim and a flowing skirt that whispered with each step.

Marie, ever the diligent and loving friend, was meticulously arranging my hair. She worked with practiced hands, pinning delicate strands into place, and weaving in small, fragrant white roses that complemented the softness of the gown. The room was filled with the subtle scent of flowers and the soft rustling of fabric. The veil, a sheer cascade of white, gently obscured my face, but it could not conceal the happiness radiating from me. It was a happiness so profound that it felt almost tangible, a warm, comforting embrace that wrapped around my heart.

Outside, the villagers of my old town were bustling with activity, their excited chatter and laughter drifting in through the open windows. The familiar sight of the village, now adorned with flowers and festive decorations, was a reminder of the life I had come full circle to embrace. The streets were alive with the joyous energy of a community that had watched me grow and now celebrated alongside me.

Inside, Uncle Henry was assisting Micah, who had grown remarkably over the past year. The young boy, now on the brink of adolescence, stood patiently as Uncle Henry buttoned his shirt. Micah’s eyes, filled with a mix of youthful excitement and shy anticipation, met mine through the veil. He had blossomed into a handsome young man, his growth a testament to the passage of time and the many changes we had all undergone.

As I took my place at the beginning of the aisle, the soft murmur of the crowd faded into a distant hum. My heart raced with a blend of nervousness and exhilaration. I looked ahead and there he stood—Ezra. He was clad in a tuxedo that shimmered with golden details, a perfect match for the grandeur of the occasion. His eyes, warm and filled with a pride that made my heart swell, locked onto mine.

Ezra’s smile was a beacon of love and strength, a silent promise of the future we were about to build together. His presence, regal and confident, was the culmination of everything we had worked through, everything we had overcome. His eyes softened as they traced the outline of my figure, his pride evident in every line of his face. The happiness that danced in his gaze mirrored my own, a shared joy that seemed to light up the entire room.

As I walked down the aisle, each step was a step towards a new beginning. The veil, while delicate and translucent, was no match for the radiance of the moment. It was a symbol of the past, of family and heritage, but also a bridge to a future filled with promise and love. With each step closer to Ezra, my heart felt lighter, more certain, knowing that we were finally where we were meant to be.

Standing at the altar in the middle of my town’s square, I faced Ezra, and in that moment, time seemed to pause. Our eyes locked in a profound, unspoken connection that transcended words. His gaze was steady and full of warmth, a reflection of the love and commitment we had nurtured over the past year.

He reached out, his hand gently enveloping mine. The touch was electrifying, grounding me in the reality of this extraordinary moment. His fingers, warm and strong, intertwined with mine, creating a perfect, unbreakable bond. The simplicity of the gesture spoke volumes, conveying a depth of feeling that words could hardly capture.

As I looked into his eyes, I saw a future full of promise and joy. It was as if every trial and triumph, every challenge we had faced, had led to this very instant. I squeezed his hand gently, a silent affirmation of the commitment we were making to each other. His grip tightened reassuringly, as if to say that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together.

The events forged me to become a true queen to the people with the right king by my side.

And in that perfect, serene moment, I knew with all my heart that this was where I was meant to be.

This was my forever.

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Tag list:-> I keep a different list for this story because it is different from the other stories I write. If you want to be added please let me know!

@jackles010378 @headinthemoon87

#Forged #Jensen Ackles #luke evans #original story idea #original character #Calista #FMC #love triangle #gods #knights #jensen fucking ackles #fluff #smut #Ezra #Cyrus #fanfic #hurt #romance

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