Mated To The Cruel Prince-Chapter 795: Royal Coward

Aldric’s mind stirred back to consciousness, a dull ache throbbing at the base of his skull. His eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, his vision was blurred, the world around him swimming in a haze. He was lying on the hard, stone floor of a cell, the air around him damp and musty, and he slowly became aware of the heavy weight encircling his wrists.

Aldric glanced down, his eyes narrowing as they focused on the cuffs binding his hands. He gave an instinctive tug, the muscles in his arms flexing as he attempted to break free. The chains rattled, but the cuffs held firm.

A faint, bitter laugh escaped his lips knowing these weren’t ordinary restraints. He could feel the telltale hum of magic, the subtle buzz that indicated these were crafted specifically to contain him. His power.

The metal was engraved with runes designed to neutralize his abilities. Aldric stopped struggling, letting out a slow breath. He was familiar with these situation, with this sensation of powerlessness.

It wasn’t the first time he had found himself restrained like this, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. After what had happened in the arena, he had expected as much.

Aldric tilted his head back against the wall, his gaze unfocused as the memories of the arena flooded back. The blood, the screams, the fury that had consumed him when Islinda was attacked—he could still feel the remnants of that rage simmering beneath the surface, though now it was tempered by a cold, grim satisfaction. He had done what he needed to do. Revenge had been exacted, and for that, he had no regrets.

He had seen this coming. He knew they would come for him after the carnage.

They always did when he lost control.

Now he would gladly take the punishment. Nor did he regret his actions one bit. If given a chance again, Aldric knew he would do it over again.

Aldric made no further attempt to escape. He had learned long ago that resistance was futile. So instead, he remained still, conserving his energy, waiting for what he knew was inevitable. Someone would come to see him. They always did.

And as if on cue, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing louder as they approached. Aldric’s eyes snapped open, his gaze fixed on the door in front of him. The footsteps paused for a moment, then the heavy iron door creaked open.

A guard stepped into the room, but it was to let in someone else—a much more powerful figure, judging by the way the temperature in the room dropped instantly. Aldric felt it first, a chill creeping down his spine as the air seemed to freeze.

The figure stepped into the light, and Aldric’s gaze sharpened as he took in the sight of his visitor. It was King Oberon, his father.

That was unexpected. Aldric had been prepared for an encounter with Queen Maeve, who was undoubtedly behind what happened tonight. But to see his father here, in this cold cell, was surprising.

"Leave us," King Oberon commanded, his voice so frigid it felt like the very air around him obeyed.

Without a word, the guards all bowed in unison and exited the cell, leaving the Winter King alone with his son.

Father and son stood staring at each other, a momentous scene considering how rare it was for them to be alone like this. The resemblance between them was uncanny, from their cold blue eyes to the stern frown that seemed permanently etched on their faces. It was as if Aldric were looking into a mirror.

"Well, what a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the honor of having the esteemed Winter King in my little cozy cell? I mean—"

Aldric’s sarcastic remark was cut short when Oberon slapped him across the face.

For a moment, Aldric froze, the sting of the blow radiating through his cheek. He couldn’t believe that his father had actually struck him. But the ringing in his ears was proof enough. Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet his father’s, burning with fury.

But there was an equal fury in Oberon’s eyes as he yelled, "What the hell were you thinking?! Do you really want a death sentence?! Do you want to kill me before my time?!"

Oberon’s chest heaved as he stared at Aldric, his rage barely contained. Aldric, however, didn’t back down. If anything, his defiance flared even brighter.

"Do you know how hard I try to keep you safe, and yet you go ahead and ruin it!" Oberon said, his voice exasperated. "Are you really so dark and twisted? Is there really no redemption for you, Aldric? Talk to me!"

"And what exactly did I do wrong?!" Aldric shouted back, his patience snapping. "I didn’t start the fight; they did! So why am I the one being blamed for it? I wasn’t even the one who wanted the death duel in the first place—your favorite son, Valerie, did. And yet, in the end, I’m the one to blame?"

His anger made him bold, and he stepped closer to his father, daring him to answer. "Tell me, what should I have done? Stand still and let them attack me? Is that what you expected? To be their scapegoat because I’m a dark Fae?!"

Oberon answered aggressively, "No, don’t make this about you, Aldric! Don’t try to manipulate me—I won’t fall for it! I heard the story from the guards. If only you had let the witches put down the barrier, that fight wouldn’t have escalated!"

"And then what? Be trapped in there like some mouse?" Aldric beat his chest with pride. "In case you’ve forgotten, I am Aldric, Prince of the Dark Fae and heir to the Winter Court, and I am not a coward! If they bring a fight to me, I will fight it with no mercy."

"Aldric—"

"They attempted to murder a royal!" Aldric interrupted with such ferocity that it stunned Oberon into silence. "They tried to kill me, a prince. Isn’t the crime for that death? So then, why am I held down like some criminal..." He tugged at the chains, "like some pauper and not a prince? If it were your favorite, Valerie, would they have dared to attack him?" He dared his father to answer.

Guilt-ridden, Oberon opened his mouth to speak, "Aldric, I—"

"I don’t care what you do," Aldric cut him off, his tone flat and final. "Kill me or leave me, I don’t care. But I won’t be the fancy coward you all are." He turned away, closing himself off.

Oberon should have been angry that Aldric called him a coward, but instead, he felt only anguish and guilt. He had come here to confront his son, to give him a piece of his mind, but now he was the one returning to the palace with a heavy heart.