Shackled To The Enemy King-Chapter 37: Alexander’s Choice

"You have your phone with you," Alexander said to Catherine, his gaze flicking to the pearl lanyard he’d bought her. "Good."

Before Catherine could even register the shift in his tone, Alexander grabbed her by the collar and marched her straight across the living room.

"Alexander—!" she protested, flailing, utterly scandalized.

This was deeply new. Her brothers, especially Alexander, never manhandled her. Ever. She was the undisputed princess of the Preston household. Even raised voices around her were considered treason.

So what in the world was happening?

"Don’t kill him!" she blurted.

Alexander paused mid-step.

Slowly, he turned to look at her, surprise flashing across his face—just a flicker, but she caught it. The frown on his brow deepened.

"I don’t want to get stuck with his decomposing body," Catherine added quickly. "The smell alone would ruin the apartment."

Alexander stared at her for a second longer.

Then his expression eased. Just a little.

He shut his eyes, exhaled sharply through his nose, and resumed walking right up to the door. He opened it, deposited her outside like a very precious but inconvenient package, and stepped back in.

"I won’t take more than ten minutes," he said.

Before she could argue, the door slammed shut in her face.

Catherine stood there, stunned, then pouted at the wood as if it had personally betrayed her.

"What secret are they talking about...?" she muttered.

Unease crept in. She pressed her ear to the door, listening hard.

Nothing.

Not a sound.

She scowled. She had wanted a soundproof apartment. The contractor had clearly taken that request a bit too seriously.

With a sigh, Catherine leaned against the door, arms crossed, cheeks puffed in a sulk.

Inside...

The moment the door closed, Alexander lunged.

He grabbed Maximilian by the collar in a single, brutal motion.

"That was the Catena Animae," Alexander roared. "The Soul Shackle!"

Though Maximilian was a good two inches taller, Alexander nearly lifted him off the ground with sheer fury alone, slamming him back against the wall.

When Alexander had touched the bracelet, he had seen it... 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

Fragments... A past life... A truth too impossible to deny...

His sister had been right.

Again.

"How did you get it?" Alexander demanded, shoving him harder.

Maximilian caught Alexander’s wrist effortlessly.

And then... He smiled.

Not triumphant. Not mocking.

Soft. Almost reverent.

"Frater Princeps," he said quietly, the words weighted with something ancient. "You remember."

Alexander froze.

The fury on his face cracked... just a fracture at first... then slowly, unmistakably, gave way.

Because he did remember.

A small boy, barely steady on his feet, clinging to his legs like a shadow. A child ten years younger, eyes bright with stars, calling him Brother Prince with unearned devotion. A boy who wanted to walk when he walked, train when he trained, breathe when he breathed.

Alexander’s grip loosened.

Across from him, Maximilian’s eyes reddened. Tears gathered, unashamed, trembling at the edges.

"I never thought I’d see you again," Maximilian said hoarsely. "Not in this life."

"I didn’t want to be King," he added, the words breaking free at last. "Not then. Not ever. I wanted you to know that... My Lord Brother."

Alexander swallowed hard.

He stepped back, releasing Maximilian’s collar, retreating as if the weight of centuries had suddenly pressed down on him. He sank onto the couch, elbows on his knees, rubbing his temples.

Too much. Too fast.

And yet... painfully familiar.

"When did you remember?" Alexander asked at last, his voice low, controlled by sheer will.

Maximilian dragged a hand through his hair and took the armchair opposite him. "Will you believe me if I say... I don’t remember much?"

Alexander scoffed softly.

He remembered his brother too well. Maximilian could lie with a straight face while the world burned behind him.

"How did the Lover’s Curse find her?" Alexander asked, cutting straight through.

Maximilian looked up sharply. "You know about it?"

"Something we learned in our youth," Alexander said, gaze drifting. His jaw tightened.

That girl.

That smile.

The way he had once been desperate enough to bind her by anything—even a curse.

"How does it work?" Maximilian asked. "How do we remove it?"

Alexander exhaled slowly. "You can’t. At least... not that I know of."

He watched Maximilian carefully. The disappointment flickered—brief, but real.

"You refused to marry her," Alexander said. "And you died with her."

Maximilian stiffened. "I didn’t... marry her?"

Alexander said nothing at first. He simply looked at him—really looked—like he was staring straight through bone and blood and into his soul.

"You always thought she was yours," Alexander said quietly. "Yours to test. Yours to delay. Yours to wait."

Alexander remembered the day he found his little brother hunched over a strip of ribbon.

The Vow Ribbon—an Elyndran tradition. Since Maximilian was destined to marry the Crown Princess of Elyndra, he had been raised steeped in its customs, taught to honor the rituals of the land he was meant to rule beside her. The ribbon was sacred. It was to be presented to one’s future wife, a silent promise woven with devotion.

Alexander had heard rumors that Maximilian intended to give his ribbon to another lady.

He had gone to confront him.

At the time, Alexander had only met the little princess once or twice. His memories of her were faint—just flashes of green eyes, round red cheeks, and the way she laughed when he lifted her onto his shoulders, proudly parading her as his brother’s fiancée. She had been adorable. Easy to like. Easy to protect.

What Alexander found that day was not defiance.

It was focus.

Maximilian sat cross-legged, head bent low, a needle pinched carefully between his fingers. He was embroidering the ribbon himself, so absorbed he didn’t even notice Alexander standing beside him.

Curious, Alexander leaned closer.

Katerina.

That was the name being stitched, neat and deliberate, into the fabric.

When Alexander questioned him, Maximilian flushed—an unmistakable, boyish red creeping up his neck. He laughed it off, claiming the rumors were intentional. Said he didn’t want that girl to think she held power over him, as if he had no choice, as if he hadn’t already chosen.

Even then, Alexander had felt it— the danger of a heart that loved, but refused to bow to it.

Ego... a cancer when it came to love.

Alexander had warned him then.

Don’t play with choices that can’t be undone.

But when it mattered, when Maximilian should have stood firm, he bowed, certain she’d still be his in the end.

Alexander remembered the chaos that followed. The pressure. The moment when choices narrowed until only one path remained.

Whether Maximilian truly had no choice... or simply chose too late... was something even Alexander could not fully untangle.

Now, knowing Catherine’s pain... and his brother’s side of the story...

Alexander finally understood.

The curse hadn’t found them by chance.

It found those who left love unfinished.

"Let her go," Alexander said, his eyes turning serious. "I’ll find a way to break the curse. You... don’t deserve her."

Maximilian’s eyes widened.

Choosing between the brother of his past life and the sister of this life... Alexander had made a choice.

Catherine.