"Father, I heard you were looking for me?" Princess Helena stepped into the grand chamber, her footsteps soft against the marble floor, her head inclined ever so slightly in respect and unease.
"My dear daughter, Helena." King Alexander's face brightened at once as he rose from his ornate throne, "The sun of my life," he added warmly, "Come, sit with me, my beautiful child."
Helena smiled despite herself as she crossed the chamber and took the chair opposite her father. Throughout the kingdom, their bond was well known. Of all his children, King Alexander's affection for his second-born was unmistakably fierce, protective, and deeply personal.
She folded her hands in her lap and waited.
"My daughter," the king began at last. His expression had shifted and tightened into something Helena had never seen before, "You are aware of the trials our kingdom has endured these past thirty-seven years. Endless wars. Famine. Families driven from their homes."
He stopped, his gaze lingering on her face. Moisture gathered in his eyes, unbidden, betraying the weight of his words.
"Father?" Helena leaned forward, alarm creeping into her voice, "Are you saying we are going to war again?"
He shook his head slowly and offered a strained smile, "No. The kingdom stands stable now." His breath hitched, "But that stability was not achieved by human strength alone. Our victories, our prosperity, were born of a pact I once made with a being some would call a devil."
Helena gasped, her breath catching as she leaned back in her chair. Shock froze her features, but she said nothing, silently urging him to continue.
"I know this is difficult to hear," King Alexander said quietly, "Only your mother, Joseph, and I were ever aware of it. I was barely twenty when I inherited the crown, thrust into war by your grandfather's death. Your brother was only two. Your mother carried you in her womb. Our people were suffering beyond endurance."
His voice faltered, "I was told this being could secure our victory. That he could save the kingdom." A pause, then he continued, "But nothing comes without a price."
Helena's gaze sharpened, her spine stiffening.
"He demanded my eldest daughter," the king said, "Promised in marriage… to his eldest son."
The air left Helena's lungs in a violent cough. She bent forward, choking, as King Alexander sprang from his seat, rubbing her back and thrusting a glass of water into her trembling hands. It took several moments before she could breathe properly again.
She lifted her eyes to him, disbelief written plainly across her face.
"You promised me," she said hoarsely, "to a devil? You agreed that I would marry the devil's son?"
King Alexander could not look at her.
At that time, he had convinced himself it would be different, that the child yet unborn would be weak, warped by war and hardship. A necessary sacrifice. A distant abstraction. He had never imagined Helena would grow into this radiant, brilliant, compassionate. His favorite child, and the only one in his heart.
"You promised me to the devil?" Helena repeated, her voice cracking, "How could you, Father?"
Tears slipped free as King Alexander bowed his head, shame crushing his shoulders.
"Why me?" Helena demanded, "Why not Henry? Why not offer him to your demon acquaintance instead?"
"Helena!" His voice snapped, trembling with anger and despair, "Watch your tongue!"
She rose at once, smoothing her skirts, and offered a flawless curtsy, hands pressed to her chest, posture rigid with restrained fury.
"Forgive me, King Alexander," she said coolly, each word edged with pain, "I was never taught the proper etiquette for discussing devils or for accepting one's fate as a devil's bride. But it seems that lesson is now unavoidable."
"Helena..." he reached for her.
She did not stop.
Her face flushed, her eyes shining with unshed tears, Princess Helena turned and left the grand chamber, her steps echoing through the hall, leaving her father alone upon his throne, drowning in regret and sorrow.