Crowns of Darkness- First Chapter

This chapter is raw (unedited) but I wanted to share it with you! The blog will change once the editing is done with an updated version, but for now, enjoy <3

Chapter 1

He didn’t want to be here. The pronouncement hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, even thicker than the navy blue velvet drapes that lined the throne room. Rhamiel stood stiffly before the obsidian dais, his gaze fixed somewhere between the intricate carvings on the floor and the formidable presence of his parents. Their black angel wings, usually spread in a majestic display, were folded neatly behind them, doing nothing to quell the storm brewing within him.

"...and therefore," his father's voice boomed, echoing off the vaulted ceiling, "the union with Princess Naomi of the Starfall Court will take place in a fortnight."

A fortnight. Fourteen days. Enough time for his world to tilt irrevocably on its axis. Rhamiel blinked, dragging his attention back to the conversation he’d only half registered, a painted image of a beautiful Nephilim princess in his hand. Starfall? He’d only ever read about them in the ancient scrolls in the library- they were a reclusive clan that possessed celestial magic and the last dragons of the north. He’d assumed they were nothing more than legend.

"A princess?" he finally managed, his voice betraying his disbelief. "But…I didn't even know the Starfall Nephilim still existed."

His mother, Seraphina, her usually serene face etched with a hint of impatience, offered a tight smile. "Their isolation has been their strength, Rhamiel. This alliance will bring unprecedented power to Tenebris and to the House of Twilight."

"But…marriage?" The word felt foreign on his tongue. "I'm not ready for this. I'm barely a man."

"Nonsense," his father scoffed, his dark eyes glinting. "You are of age, and this is your duty. This union is vital for the stability of our people."

"But why her?" Rhamiel persisted, a knot of frustration tightening in his chest. "Why not someone from our court? Someone with black wings?" The unspoken words hung in the air: someone like us.

The ensuing silence crackled with unspoken tension. His mother’s delicate fingers tightened on the armrest of her throne. Then, the fragile stillness shattered.

His father’s hand slammed down on the polished obsidian, the sharp crack making Rhamiel’s mother flinch. "Enough!" Rune, the King of the Night Court roared, his voice laced with icy fury. "Your task, Rhamiel, is not to question, but to obey. To uphold the expectations of your parents and this throne. When you sit upon it yourself, then you can indulge in your own whims- go fuck whoever you want, but this marriage is happening."

A matching growl rumbled in Rhamiel’s throat, his hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles turned white. He met his father’s furious gaze, his own dark eyes blazing with defiance. "When I am king," he retorted, his voice low and dangerous, "I will never be like you."

The air thrummed with the unspoken challenge. For a long moment, father and son locked eyes, the already wide chasm between them widening with each passing second. Finally, Rhamiel gave a stiff, jerky bow, his hands stiffly at his side.

"Your Majesties," he clipped out, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. He turned sharply on his heel and swept out of the throne room, his long strides eating up the distance as his wings flexed behind him. The heavy oak doors swung shut behind him with a resounding thud, but the weight of his parents' announcement pressed down on him-the suffocation of their demands constricting the very air in his lungs.

Rhamiel marched through the echoing corridors of the castle with his guards behind him, the ornate tapestries and ancestral portraits blurring into meaningless shapes as he felt the roaring in his ears reach a crescendo. His wings itched with the desperate need to feel the wind beneath them.

He reached the grand arched entrance of the castle, the vast expanse of the cavern that they lived in beckoning to him. Without a backward glance, shutting his ears to the startled cry of his guards, Rhamiel broke into a run, his feet pounding on the cobblestones as the doors to the castle opened. He needed to feel the air-the raw, untamed freedom of the skies above, to clear the suffocating anger and confusion that churned within him. 

With a powerful surge, his black wings unfurled, catching the dusky light, and he launched himself into the cool evening air towards the tunnels outside. As he breathed out, he felt the roaring in his head fade away. As Rhamiel spun out of a barrel roll and spread his wings to soar over his kingdom-his home- he looked below at the city of Tenebris teeming with life. 

His face softened as he looked over to the Nephilim village on the outskirts of the city. He sighed and turned, heading towards a particular hut nestled beside the training grounds for the Nephilim army.

As he landed softly, he barely had time to tuck his wings in before he was tackled and shoved to the ground in a cloud of dust. He grunted in surprise as his back slammed against the ground, his hands reaching to grab whoever had tackled him. As his hands grabbed the shoulders of his assailant, he grinned and pulled her towards him, crushing his lips to hers.