FROST
Chapter 120: A King’s Burdern, A Demon’s Oath

Chapter 120: A King’s Burdern, A Demon’s Oath

Caspian stood still as stone in the dimmed chamber of the Queen, the velvet curtains drawn to a close, suffocating the light that dared try to soften the truth between them. The cold, faintly metallic scent of old magic and blood still clung to the air, lingering like a shadow too stubborn to leave.

He wore his maroon ceremonial robes, heavy with woven enchantments and lined with deep obsidian threads that shimmered when caught in the candlelight. A mantle of silver phoenix feathers hung across his shoulders, its edges dusted with imperial gold.

The polished amethyst brooch that clasped his cloak pulsed faintly—his crest, the symbol of the Celestial Court reborn under his reign. His long violet hair was tied in a precise half-knot, the strands threaded with fine stardust beads, marking him once more as ruler of the Lunar Kingdom.

But despite his regality, his gaze remained pinned to the polished marble floor—unmoving, unflinching, and filled with unspoken weight.

On the bed, The Queen lay half-upright, swathed in white sheets damp with sweat. Her skin, usually radiant, was pale and translucent under the spelllights, her breaths ragged. Her once-sturdy voice trembled now, laced with pain and disbelief. "Caspian! How could you do it?!"

Her voice cracked like thin glass. The room pulsed with tension.

She grasped at the sheets, knuckles whitening as she tried to sit higher, a task that pulled a wince from her lips. Her legs refused to cooperate.

Her body still remembered what the mind begged to forget. Her silvery blue hair, once pristinely combed, now stuck to her temples in damp tangles. Tears rimmed her eyes—not just from pain, but betrayal.

"I had to," Caspian whispered, his voice low but firm. "Otherwise, the High Circle would never have allowed me to clear your name. Not in the way it needed to be done. They were going to strip your title, declare you unclean, and exile the child. I couldn’t let that happen."

Eleana let out a soft, anguished groan. "And what price did you pay, Caspian? What did it cost?" Her eyes, dim but still sharp, searched his. "You got your throne back. You got your kingdom. Did it cost you my child—our child?"

Silence.

Caspian’s jaw tensed. "Yes," he admitted. "The child was the cost. My name, my right to rule, your protection—all of it weighed against a newborn boy. And in their eyes, I did the only thing a king could do."

"And you expect me to accept this?" Eleana’s voice rose, hoarse and full of fire. "You tell me a demon confirmed I was never touched. That Asmaros—the same demon who once cursed your ancestors—spoke up for me?" Her voice cracked with disbelief. "You trusted him?!"

Caspian didn’t look up. "Asmaros has changed."

"He’s a demon!"

"So am I," he murmured, finally lifting his head. "And yet I’m the one ruling this court now, aren’t I?"

Eleana recoiled slightly at his words, breathing unevenly. "Being cursed by a demon and being born as a demon was never the same thing," she argued. "Demons are demons for a reason, Caspian," she hissed. "They lie. They manipulate. They take things. That’s their nature."

Caspian’s amethyst eyes flickered with restrained fury. "And yet—when I asked for understanding from High Circle, pleading for mercy on your behalf—they hide their faces away. When your body trembled and your womb bled under the weight of their false accusations, not a single voice among them rose to defend you. Their silence was louder than any verdict."

His voice grew darker, more strained, trembling with a storm barely contained.

"They even dared to place the burden of a crown on Cloud’s head—our son—a mere child, forced to ascend the throne while his mother lay dying and his father stood condemned. They knew. They knew, Eleana, that a king’s magic is not just a symbol—it is the lifeblood of the kingdom, the only force keeping the barrier intact. That shimmering veil that protects our people from plague, famine, invasion... it feeds on his soul."

Caspian’s hand trembled slightly as he spoke, voice dipping into a low bitterness that cracked his noble composure.

"Now look at him. Cloud can barely lift a brow, let alone a sword even for just a day or two, because he’s not ready yet. His eyes are hollow. His aura flickers like a dying star. And still—they watched. They let it happen. All for the sake of protocol. Of politics."

He stepped closer to the bed, his gaze searing.

"But it was Asmaros—a demon—who uncovered the truth and the High Circle had confirmed it themselves when they examined the child. Even if he’s at risk, Asmaros even came to prove your innocense. It was a demon who stood in your defense when even the gods would not speak."

Caspian’s voice quieted then, laced with bitter awe.

"It wasn’t heaven that intervened, Eleana. It was hell. And somehow... it showed us more mercy than the divine."

Eleana trembled, her hands clenching the sheets as the blood-spheres—those crimson orbs floating above—pulsed with a quiet, eerie glow. Left behind by the healers, yet still tirelessly mending her body, they bore the mark of demonic blood magic—crafted to heal what divine spells could not.

It had been Asmaros who whispered the counter-curse, unraveling the remnants of Yami’s malignant curse buried deep within her. That was why no Kingdom sorcerer could heal her—because the damage was never meant to be undone by holy hands.

Caspian motioned toward them with a sweep of his arm. "At least he tried to help, my queen. Not like the High Circle. All they did was stand above us, cloaked in their self-righteousness, judging us like chess pieces—never lifting a single hand to help. They sit in their ivory towers and declare what is sacred and what is filth."

The words fell heavy between them.

Eleana’s lips trembled. "So what now?" she asked, voice breaking. "What happens to the boy?"

"I don’t know," Caspian answered quietly, his voice low with weariness. "But I will not let them use him. Not as a sacrifice. Not as a pawn. I’m going to get him back, even if it costs me my throne for good."

His eyes met Eleana’s—two sovereigns bound not just by a crown, but by the grief and quiet rage of what they’d endured. Her gaze, dimmed by exhaustion and pain, still bore the fire of a mother unwilling to surrender. And his, hollowed by the burden of kingship and a father, shone with a single certainty: he would burn kingdoms before letting his child be taken again.

The silence stretched.

Outside, the bells of the High Tower rang—distant, cold, and mechanical. Not in celebration, not in mourning. Just the empty rhythm of a world that moved on, uncaring.

Caspian exhaled, stepping closer. He brushed a strand of Eleana’s silver-azure hair away from her cheek, his voice softening. "Don’t worry, my queen. You take your rest in here, and I’ll handle the rest."

Eleana’s lips quivered as she took a trembling breath and slowly nodded. Her fingers gripped the sheets in a final plea for reassurance. Caspian leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips, light and reverent. Then one to her forehead, lingering for a moment longer.

When he turned and exited the chamber, the weight of his vow clung to the air behind him.

"Aww, that’s sweet—"

"Oh, hell—!" Caspian recoiled like he’d stepped into a snake pit. Asmaros stood right beside the doorframe Caspian exited from, arms folded, grinning like he’d been waiting for hours.

"You son of a demon—how’d you get in here?! You’re supposed to be confined within the High Circle’s chamber walls until Estes and the other elves arrive!"

Asmaros clicked his tongue and casually scratched his chin with one of his long, obsidian-black nails, each glinting like sharpened onyx.

"Confined is such a strong word. I prefer ’politely discouraged from leaving.’ And I got bored." He stretched like a cat, wings twitching slightly behind him—sleek, leathery, and currently curled like a half-cape around his shoulders. "Also, I had this teensy feeling they might try to annihilate me if I stayed too long. You know how judgmental old people can be."

"You’re not supposed to be anywhere near this floor—"

"But I have good news for you, Lunar King Caspian, my forever-and-eternally-locked-in-rivalry arch-nemesis-slash-bestie—"

"Ew," Caspian muttered, recoiling again just as Asmaros attempted to sling an arm over his shoulder.

They were nearly the same height, but Asmaros had more... mass. Not in bulk, but in theatrical presence. The kind of presence that came with curved black horns, faintly glowing tattoos across his collarbones, and a tail that definitely slapped Caspian’s ankle on purpose.

He could retract them if he wanted to, but then again, he likes showing off, so why not?

"I’m filing a complaint," Caspian grimaced. "To the entire Pantheon."

"They love me," Asmaros said with a dramatic hair flip—despite not having much hair to flip. "Now, about the good news—"

"Unless it’s you getting a permanent exile, I don’t want it."

"No no no," Asmaros wagged a finger. "It’s about the baby."

Caspian froze mid-step.

"What about him?" he asked, voice sharp.

Asmaros grinned, teeth just a little too pointed. "Well, that’s the dramatic part. I’ll tell you—but first..." He slowly pulled out a scroll, some crumbs, a slightly melted candy, and then finally: a tiny handmade plush of himself. "Permission to be officially dubbed godfather. I’ve already made merch."

Caspian stared. "I don’t know whether to slap you or burn that thing."

"It squeaks when you hug it!"

"Oh, gods..." Caspian groaned, rubbing his temples.

"Siiicckk... right?" Asmaros elbowed him with a smug grin, clearly proud of himself. With a flick of his wrist, both the scroll and the disturbingly detailed merchandise vanished into a flare of black and violet fire. The smell of sulfur and lavender lingered.

"So yeah~ about the baby."

Caspian raised a brow, tone immediately sharp. "What about him?"

Asmaros crossed his arms, wings flexing slightly like a cloak shifting in the wind. "I’ve actually convinced the High Circle to keep him within your kingdom instead of sending him back to me since they still declared him as a demon after all."

Caspian blinked, placing a hand on his chest. "Y-You did that?!"

"Of course. I’m the baby’s godfather, after all," Asmaros said, as if the title had been carved into the stars. "Oh! And take note—they’ve agreed to name the child Nixroth’Vael Zeir’malun, a.k.a. Nix. Credits to yours truly."

Caspian’s jaw dropped. "In what condition?" he asked, both impressed and deeply suspicious.

"He’ll be staying with Ezekiellus. You know... your eldest son’s mentor? The scary one who smells like ancient oak and disappointment?"

Caspian, still unsure whether he was dreaming or living through another royal migraine, nodded slowly. "T-That’s great! E-Eleana would be so happy—" He paused. His smile wavered. His eyes narrowed.

"Wait. How were you able to get the High Circle’s approval for all of this? I can’t even request a chair in their meetings without getting hexed with insomnia and back pain."

Asmaros shrugged, utterly unbothered. "Ahh, you know. I just talked to them. Heart to heart. Professionally. Kingly."

Caspian’s glare could have curdled stone that Asmaros swilled.

"—Okay," Asmaros confessed, clearing his throat. "I may have threatened to declare war between kingdoms if they didn’t agree to my terms."

"What?!" Caspian choked, half-coughing in royal horror.

"In a very diplomatic way!" Asmaros added quickly, making vague shapes in the air. "I even used words like repercussions, power imbalance, and unfortunate consequences. I sounded really smart."

"You threatened an inter-kingdom war for a baby name and babysitting privileges?!"

"And plushie rights," Asmaros nodded solemnly. "Don’t forget the plushie rights and of course, his rights to be a prince in the Lunar Kingdom."

Caspian dragged his hand down his face. "You’re going to get us all exiled. Or exploded."

Asmaros grinned wider. "Well, at least Nix will grow up with a kickass godfather and a kingdom that didn’t abandon him. You’re welcome."

Caspian stared at him.

Then exhaled slowly.

"You’re an idiot."

"An idiot with political finesse," Asmaros corrected proudly, as his tail flicked behind him like an exclamation mark. "Ahh~ I can’t wait to visit my godchild every day!!"

He then flicked a hand in the air. "Nixroth’Vael Zeir’malun, my perfect child."

Nixroth’Vael Zeir’malun

Nixroth’Vael Zeir’malun

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