Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 255: The Protective Family

In the grand drawing room of Prince Reuben’s palace, the air felt stifling as General Odin and his sons stood rooted in silence, the weight of Reuben’s bold declaration hanging heavily in the air. Odin’s jaw clenched; his sons exchanged sharp, bewildered glances, their hands instinctively gripping the hem of their tunics as if searching for balance.

"But my daughter has just returned to us," General Odin finally broke the silence, his voice taut and measured. "And she is still young—just turned sixteen."

Reuben’s eyes widened, surprise flickering across his features. He had taken Lara’s curvaceous form and confident bearing as proof of her being at least eighteen. He noted, though, that her face looked youthful, and there was the look of innocence in her eyes—a fragility he had perhaps overlooked.

Sixteen. The age echoed in his mind. According to Northem law, a woman could only marry at eighteen. His fingers tapped against his thigh as he recalibrated his approach.

"Then," Reuben straightened his back, his gaze unyielding, "may I propose an engagement instead?"

General Odin’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Your Highness, let me discuss this with my wife first," he replied diplomatically, though the strain in his voice was unmistakable. "As you know, when Lara was abducted, my wife got sick. It is my wish for her to spend more time with our daughter before giving her away." General Odin tried to sound respectful.

Reuben’s eyes darkened, the warmth of his earlier hospitality evaporating like mist under the sun. The room grew taut with tension, heavy and suffocating. He could feel General Odin’s resistance. He was already the crown prince, the heir to the throne. Wouldn’t they be thankful that the position of the crown princess consort was offered to his daughter?

"Ahem!" Prince Alderan’s sudden cough shattered the silence, his eyes flitting nervously between the crown prince and the general. "Brother, lunch is served."

The crown prince nodded. The chill that crept into his eyes was gone. He acted as the polite host and led the Norse family to an elaborately decorated door.

The opulent dining hall sprawled before them, and an elaborate chandelier hung from high ceiling. Servants moved with practiced silence, setting down silver platters laden with delicacies that filled the air with tantalizing aromas.

Yet, for all its splendor, the Norse siblings and their father ate in stiff silence, each bite tasting like paper. What had been meant as a sumptuous luncheon now felt like a trap. Had they known Reuben’s true intent, Odin would have found excuses to decline.

After finishing the meal and exchanging polite words, General Odin and his sons left the crown prince’s abode with dark faces.

As they walked along the cobbled path, Asael fell in step beside his father. "Father," he murmured, his voice edged with unease. "What if Reuben insists on making our sister his princess consort?"

General Odin’s shoulders tightened, his gaze fixed ahead. "If that happens," he replied, his voice steely, "I would rather Lara accept the King’s offer to lead the Silver Wolf team. Reuben already has three concubines. She would find no peace in that palace—not with a man whose heart is so easily divided."

Bener, quick to recall, snapped his fingers. "Father, didn’t our sister have a betrothal agreement with Prince Alaric?" His eyes brightened with sudden hope.

Galahad glared at him. "When did you become dumb, Bener?"

Bener glared back at his elder brother. "Whose dumb?"

Galahad’s temper flared, his fists clenching. "Aren’t you just passing our sister to one prince to another? Like she’s some bargaining chip or some property?"

Bener stood his ground. "Alaric is different. He is a good prince. He fought in the war. He earned his merit with blood and sweat, not by lounging in command centers, sipping wine, and barking orders like the crown prince." His words spilled out in a rush, afraid Galahad would cut him off.

Galahad’s lip curled in disdain. "Royalty is still royalty. Alaric may seem honorable, but do you believe he would remain loyal to Lara? He already has concubines, Bener."

"But he never slept with those concubines," Bener argued.

"And just because he said that he did not, you simply believe his word?" Galahad scoffed, shaking his head. His eyes flickered toward their father before he continued, his voice softening with conviction. "Our sister deserves a man like Father. A man who sees only one woman and holds no one else in his heart."

"Enough." General Odin’s voice cut through their argument, sharp and final. His sons fell silent, their steps slowing to match his. A faint smile played at the edge of Odin’s lips, pride flickering in his eyes. His chest swelled almost imperceptibly. Though their bickering was fierce, it stemmed from love—a love that sought to protect their sister from a gilded cage.

...

When General Odin and his sons returned to their estate, the sun was high in the sky. Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken fears. Only the rhythmic clatter of hooves against cobblestones filled the air, punctuated by the occasional snort of their steeds. It wasn’t until the iron gates of their Norse manor creaked open that Odin finally spoke.

"Summon your mother," he ordered to one in particular, dismounting with the grace of a seasoned warrior. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, flicked to Asael. "And fetch Lara. I want her here within the hour."

"Uhmm, Father, Lara is with Peredur. Sister wanted to familiarize herself with the capital, so Peredur accompanied him." Percival announced, and then, being the youngest, he went inside to find his mother.

"What? That girl is so impatient. Why did she not wait for her father to accompany her and show her around?"

The brothers were speechless and rolled their eyes. Their father was the most shameless and thick-skinned of them all.

"Father, do you think Reuben will truly press for the engagement?" Asael asked, his voice low but steady.

Odin paused on the stone steps of their threshold, and a crease appeared on his forehead. "Men like Reuben," he began slowly, "are accustomed to getting what they want. His proposal today was not a question; it was a statement."