Tale of a Hedonistic wizard

Vivianne reached across the table to take his hand, her magic wrapping around him like a warm embrace. "I have missed you, my boy. These halls are brighter when you're here."

The irony of her words – given his nocturnal activities and dark dealings – might have made Jaegar laugh, but instead he simply squeezed her hand. "And I've missed being here, with both of you."

The morning continued peacefully, the three of them sharing tea and conversation as the sun climbed higher in the sky.

They spoke of simple things – palace gossip, Jacqueline's plans, the latest updates in the crown system.

In these quiet moments, surrounded by the two women, Jaegar felt warmth inside and decided to be content with what he had now.

The enchanted roses in the garden below released another wave of fragrance, and somewhere in the distance, palace bells chimed the morning hour.

For now, at least, he could be simply their Jaeger—grandson, brother, prince.

"More tea, my dears?" Vivianne asked, and the maids served while glancing at Jaegar; his appearance can be quite distracting to them.

And Jacqueline made sure to tease about the maids blushing whenever Jaegar was around, adding a lightness to the atmosphere as they enjoyed their tea together. The bond between the three of them only grew stronger with each passing day.

-

Around noon, in the gilded heart of the imperial capital, where pleasure and decadence intertwined like gossamer threads, Ethan lay sprawled across silk-draped sheets.

The chamber breathed with opulent excess—crimson tapestries muffling the distant city sounds, crystal sconces casting prismatic reflections across marble floors. His sleep was a tangled realm of half-remembered dreams, deep and unyielding.

The servant's entrance was silent, almost spectral. Soft leather boots whispered against polished stone, barely disturbing the chamber's languid stillness.

A hand reached out, tentative fingers brushing Ethan's shoulder.

"My lord," the servant murmured.

Ethan's reaction was visceral and immediate. His arm lashed out—a blur of muscle and barely contained fury—striking the servant with a sharp, stinging blow that echoed through the chamber like a thunderclap.

The servant stumbled back, dark eyes wide but unexpectedly resolute.

Before Ethan could summon another wave of anger, a folded newspaper was thrust forward. The servant's hand trembled slightly but did not waver.

Whatever was printed on that page transformed Ethan's fury into something else entirely.

His bronze skin blanched, muscles locked in sudden, electric stillness.

He read the headlines of his family house being attacked, and he was instantly sobered up.

Then he noticed a figure standing in front of him, and he gasped.

Purple mist seemed to coalesce around the figure's form, his presence filling the room with a predatory intensity that made the very air feel charged and dangerous.

Ethan's stammered recognition—"Jae-jaegar!"—dissolved into a cascade of terror.

The newspaper slipped from his trembling fingers, drifting to the floor like a fallen leaf, forgotten in the face of impending doom. His body betrayed him, skin erupting in a cold sweat, muscles seizing with primal fear.

"Hello, senior," Jaegar's voice was a blade wrapped in silk, each word deliberate and cutting.

Ethan's retreat was pathetic—a cornered animal sensing the hunter's approach. He stumbled backwards, his movements ungraceful and desperate, until he collided with the wall.

Jaegar advanced, casting a shadow that swallowed Ethan whole.

"How did you like my present?"

The words were accompanied by a gesture toward a picture—a haunting snapshot of Ethan's family home.

In that moment, the pieces clicked into a horrifying mosaic. Ethan's accusation burst forth: "That was you?"

Jaegar's confirming nod was almost casual, which made it infinitely more terrifying.

Rage flared in Ethan—a momentary spark of defiance. "You bastard, you dare lay a hand on my family!"

But his anger was a candle against a bonfire. Jaegar's arcane energy pulsed—a tangible, oppressive force that made the very stones of the room tremble.

Ethan flinched, his bravado evaporating like morning mist.

His wand materialized, a desperate grasp at power.

But Jaegar was faster. A calculated kick sent the wand skittering across the floor, followed by a brutal crushing of Ethan's hand. The scream that erupted was part pain, part pure terror.

Survival instinct took over. "It wasn't my fault!" Ethan blubbered, "It was all Lorcan's doing!"

He knew Jaegar came for his revenge, and he had been anticipating his arrival ever since he was released. It wasn't for him to understand that Jaegar would leave them alone.

Jaegar's scoff dripped with contempt. "You and your fucked-up mind."

The final humiliation came swiftly. Faced with a true threat, Ethan's courage dissolved. He wet himself, tears streaming down his face—a pitiful display that seemed to disgust Jaegar more than any physical weakness.

"You stupid fuck," Jaegar muttered, stepping back in clear revulsion. "Acting high when the odds are in your favour, then crying when you don't win."

In that moment, the power dynamics were crystal clear. Ethan was not a player in this game—he was merely a piece to be moved, manipulated, and destroyed at will.

Jaegar, clearly disgusted seeing Ethan in such a state and him wanting to exact revenge on him, would now be like a predator toying with its prey, relishing in the fear and vulnerability he had instilled in Ethan.

Ethan was bowing and begging him to forgive him and to not kill him. Ethan knew very well that he was no match for Jaegar, and he would do anything if it meant staying alive.

Jaegar crouched down before him, close to his face. "You have done one thing which I can't overlook, though. Do you know what it is?"

He wouldn't forget even when he was asleep, the incident on the mountain, near the cabin. They held his aunt, and he had lived with the image of his aunt being held in their hands for more than a year.

Ethan didn't understand or remember what he had done exactly.

Jaegar sighed, "I will let you leave if you cut your hands."

Ethan's face paled, and he stuttered, "You—you... you wouldn't dare?"

"Of course, I would. You think I am afraid of killing you. You won't imagine the things I would do to you before I kill you." Jaegar had the most sinister expression on his face, and he was clearly enjoying the look of terror on Ethan's face.

"No, no, please, don't kill me," Ethan pleaded.

There was no one in the room. The servant from before had already disappeared when Jaegar appeared. And Jaegar had cast a spell to block the sound from leaving the room.

Jaegar got up and walked back to the windows. "Look, I don't have all day. If you just chop your hands, then you can live as much as you like."

He tilted his head, with a predatory grin and a dark glint covering his eyes. "Otherwise…" he left him hanging.

Ethan bit his lip, clearly frustrated, and he seemed to consider his options. If Jaegar had dared to lay a hand on his family, he couldn't go to his family for help; if he did, he didn't know what Jaegar would do then. And Lorcan was already a mess. He wouldn't help him.

He looked at Jaegar and he steeled himself and nodded.