To say he was infuriated was too much of an understatement. His only daughter had just announced to him that she was to wed. To a human from the filth-ridden kingdom of Gouba. No matter what lineage they were, no human was worthy of the hand of his daughter. He exhaled sharply, dragging his hand down his face as he paced around his study. The room felt stifling, the air heavy with the weight of his frustration. The polished wood of his desk gleamed in the low light of the candles flickering weakly around the room. His eyes, normally a picture of restraint, were now wide with disbelief. A human. The very thought sent a wave of disgust through him. He halted abruptly, turning to face the map spread across the wall, the intricate markings of Uhithouya’s borders and territories barely registering in his mind. His thoughts were consumed by the image of his daughter smiling with that... human. He had heard whispers of this man, a commoner, no less, from the kingdom of Gouba. A kingdom steeped in squalor and ruin, where the streets were lined with filth and crime. How could his daughter—a child of the Moon Grove, a descendant of elven royalty—possibly desire such a thing? His fist slammed onto the map with a force that shook the frame of the table. He could feel his control slipping, his elven grace faltering under the weight of his emotions. He never thought he would have to face this day—never imagined that his legacy, his bloodline, would be reduced to such folly.

With a tight breath, Braegen forced himself to regain some semblance of composure. He turned away from the map, walking slowly to the window where the full moon bathed the world in its ethereal light. For a moment, he let the cold serenity of the night calm his mind, though the fury still simmered beneath the surface. This couldn’t stand. Not now. Not after everything they had worked for. She could not marry a human.

Braegen's gaze hardened as he thought of the consequences. The entire elven court would be scandalized. The nobles would be up in arms. His advisors would question his judgment. And worse—if his daughter were to marry outside their kind, it would shatter the fragile unity he had so painstakingly built in Uhithouya. There would be those in the kingdom who would see it as weakness, as a crack in the royal line. His thoughts turned to the future, and he knew what had to be done. He would have to step in—softly at first, but firmly enough to steer her back onto the path he had envisioned for her. He would speak with her. Reason with her. And if she refused to listen, then... there would be other means. Braegen had been a king for centuries. He knew the ways of power, of persuasion, and—if necessary—coercion. He looked up at the moon once more, his features hardened. "No human," he muttered to himself, "will claim her." Braegen's mind began to work through a strategy—his next steps. He would meet with the boy, discover his true intentions, his worth. If he proved unworthy, if his heart was anything but pure, Braegen would not hesitate to eliminate the threat. There were ways to make sure his daughter saw reason without breaking her spirit... yet. But that was for later. For now, he needed to face her. And he would. He would remind her of who she was, of the legacy she carried, and the responsibilities of a bloodline that could never be tainted.

His jaw clenched as he prepared himself for the confrontation ahead. He stormed out of his study and began to make his way towards her bedchambers, his boots thudding on the floor. Each step seemed to echo louder in the corridors, the sound of his fury reverberating through the stone walls of the castle. He passed servants and guards, their eyes lowering respectfully as he strode past, none daring to speak or even look at him for too long. He was a king—unquestionable, unyielding—and they knew the storm that brewed within him. The soft glow of torchlight flickered as he turned the corner, the high ceilings of the castle towering above him, as if the ancient stone itself was bearing witness to his wrath. The air felt heavier, suffocating in its silence. The night outside had settled into a quiet stillness, but inside, the tension crackled like a tempest ready to break. When he reached her door, Braegen paused, steadying his breath for a moment. The old wood beneath his hand was cool, its grain worn by time. He could hear the soft rustling of movement inside—perhaps she was preparing for bed, or simply lost in her thoughts. A pang of guilt shot through him, but he quickly shoved it aside. This was not the time for tenderness. She had made a grave mistake, and now, as her father, it was his duty to correct it.