The throne room of King Ares in the Kingdom of Midas was a spectacle of excess, a glittering mausoleum of bad taste. Gold-trimmed tapestries draped the walls, shimmering under the flickering light of a dozen chandeliers, each more ostentatious than the last. At the center of it all loomed the throne itself—a gaudy monstrosity of gilded carvings that practically screamed, “I’m overcompensating for something.” And there, sprawled across it with the lethargy of a man who’d long ago run out of things to conquer, sat King Ares. His crown tilted lazily on his brow, his fingers drumming a bored rhythm on the armrest, he looked every bit the petulant ruler of a kingdom drowning in its own opulence.
“Another day of nothing,” he muttered to himself, his voice echoing off the polished marble. “What’s the point of turning everything to gold if there’s no one to admire it with me?”
The heavy double doors at the far end of the hall swung open with a resounding thud, and in strode Lady Seraphina, his advisor and the only person in the kingdom who could make him feel like a scolded child. Her presence was a force, a storm of authority wrapped in crimson silk that hugged her curves with deliberate precision. Her dark hair cascaded over one shoulder, and her emerald eyes glinted with a sharpness that could cut through steel—or a king’s ego. In her hands, she clutched a scroll, the parchment practically trembling under the weight of the complaints it bore.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the golden boy himself,” she announced, her voice dripping with mockery as her boots clicked against the floor. “Lounging about while your kingdom falls apart. How very… regal of you.”
Ares sat up straighter, a lazy smirk curling his lips as he tried to mask the way her entrance had jolted him. “Seraphina, my dearest thorn in my side. To what do I owe the pleasure of your scowl today?”
She stopped a few paces from the throne, one hand on her hip, the other unfurling the scroll with a dramatic flourish. “Oh, where to begin, Your Majesty? Perhaps with the fact that half the royal garden is now a glittering eyesore? Roses, Ares. Roses. You turned them to gold. What’s a courtier supposed to do with a bouquet of metal? Stab someone with romance?”
He chuckled, leaning forward, his golden robes shimmering as he tried to play off the criticism. “I thought it was rather poetic. Immortal beauty, frozen in time. Surely, even you can appreciate the artistry?”
Seraphina’s glare could’ve melted the very gold he so loved. “Artistry? The only thing frozen here is your common sense. Do you know how many suitors have complained that their grand gestures are now literal weapons? You’ve turned courtship into a battlefield.”
Ares shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, but his smirk didn’t falter. He leaned back, spreading his arms as if to embrace the room. “Come now, Seraphina. Surely a woman of your… commanding nature can see the appeal of a king who can turn anything to treasure. Care to test my touch?” His voice dipped suggestively, his eyes raking over her with unabashed interest.
Her lips twitched into a dangerous smile, but her eyes were ice. “Oh, Ares, if I let you anywhere near me, I’d be more likely to turn your golden ego into scrap metal. Focus, darling. You’ve made a mess, and I’m not here to stroke your… pride.”
He flinched at the barb, but there was a flicker of heat in his expression, a mix of frustration and fascination. “Fine, fine. What do you propose I do about it, oh wise and merciless one?”
Seraphina stepped closer, her tone sharpening like a blade. “You’re going to fix this, Ares. There’s a rumor—a rather delicious one, I might add—about a certain Witch of Aurum who can reverse curses. They say she’s as enchanting as she is dangerous. Sound familiar?” Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she watched him squirm.
Ares swallowed hard, torn between dread and a spark of intrigue. “A witch? You want me to traipse into some cursed forest and beg for help from a woman who might turn me into a toad? Or worse, seduce me into submission?”
She smirked, leaning in just enough that he could catch the faint scent of jasmine on her skin. “Oh, I’m counting on the seduction part, darling. Rumor has it her methods are… let’s say, *unconventional*. I’m sure you’ll find her quite… stimulating. If you don’t botch it, that is.”
The air between them crackled, a charged dance of power and provocation. Ares felt the heat of her proximity, her voice a low purr that sent a shiver down his spine. “I… I’ll manage,” he stammered, his usual bravado crumbling under her intensity. “I always do.”
Seraphina straightened, her gaze pinning him to the throne. “See that you do. And keep that wandering scepter of yours in check, hmm? We don’t need another golden disaster on our hands—or elsewhere.”
His face flushed a deep crimson, and he coughed, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. “I’ll have you know, I’m perfectly capable of controlling myself.”
Her laughter rang through the hall, sharp and mocking, as she produced a weathered map from the folds of her gown. “Oh, Ares, you can’t even control your own court. Let’s not pretend.” She extended the map, her fingers brushing against his with a deliberate, lingering touch that sent a jolt through him. “Here. Directions to the Witch’s lair. Don’t lose it. Or yourself.”
He grasped the parchment, his fingers tingling where they’d met hers, and tried to muster a comeback. “I’ll have you know, I’m quite good at finding my way. Especially to… intriguing destinations.”
She arched a brow, her smile cutting. “Is that so? Well, do try not to get lost in your own fantasies before you even reach her. I’d hate to have to rescue you from your own incompetence.” With that, she turned on her heel, her hips swaying with a purposeful rhythm that drew his gaze despite his better judgment.
“Careful, Seraphina,” he called after her, his voice weaker than he intended. “One day, I’ll prove I’m more than just a golden fool.”
She glanced over her shoulder, her parting shot delivered with a wicked grin. “Oh, darling, I’ll believe that when I see something other than golden inadequacies staring back at me. Good luck with the Witch. You’ll need it.”
The doors closed behind her with a resounding thud, leaving Ares alone in the vast, glittering hall. He slumped back against the throne, the map clutched in his hand, muttering to himself. “Prove her wrong. I’ll prove her wrong. A witch, huh? How bad could it be? Enchanting, she said. Dangerous. Hmph. I can handle dangerous.”
But as he stared at the map, a mix of dread and anticipation simmered in his chest. The Witch of Aurum awaited, and with her, a journey that might just be his undoing—or his awakening. He couldn’t decide which terrified him more.
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