It was cool in the throne room. The stone walls absorbed the sunlight and returned a silence that was broken only by the king’s heartbeat. Ladislaus V sat motionless on the throne, all his thoughts seemed to be still under the heavy weight of the crown on his head. Outwardly, he looked like a ruler, but inside — he was just a boy, still afraid in the dark.

Sometimes, when no one saw him, he would turn the golden signet ring between his fingers and whisper softly: – XY…

The name died within the walls, as if the palace itself was ashamed to hear it. XY, the girl he loved, whom the world would never let go of. The girl who had once held his hand in the churchyard and told him:

“I look at you not for the throne, but for who you could be without it.”

Those words haunted him for years. But László could not allow himself to be who he would be without it. Because then he would have lost what he was raised for: power.

The crown was placed on his head as a child, but he never grew into it. The people gathered around the power — Garai, Cillei, the lords — all smiled, bowed, but their eyes were cold, like the blades of daggers. The young king felt more and more every day that no one truly loved him. The people cheered the Hunyadis, the soldiers swore by János Hunyadi, and László heard every cheer as a threat. XY’s words slowly faded, and another sentence took their place from Garai’s lips:

“Your Majesty, if he doesn’t inspire fear, he inspires nothing.”

And László believed it. Because if they don’t love him, at least let them fear him.

From that moment on, love was replaced by hatred. In the king’s heart, every face was distorted into an enemy. The name Hunyadi no longer meant a hero, but a shadow that cast itself over his throne. At night, in his dreams, XY’s face merged with that of László Hunyadi, and when he woke up, he could no longer distinguish whom he truly hated.

One day, when the rain was beating on the palace window, Garai entered the throne room and bowed deeply. – Your Majesty, the Hunyadis are plotting against you. If you don’t step down now, you will lose the throne. László’s eyes lit up. His hand trembled, but not from fear – from decision. And he uttered the order for which he would have to suffer for the rest of his life:

“Capture them. If necessary, finish them off.”

When the gates closed on the Hunyadis, something changed in the air. The country became silent, as if God himself had turned his face away. The king became more lonely than ever, and the walls of the throne room no longer protected him, but closed around him like a prison.

However, Garai was not loyal. Power knows no loyalty, only opportunity. When he saw that the people were turning against the king, Garai betrayed him to save his own life. A rebellion broke out in the palace, the flags caught fire, and Ladislaus was forced to flee. He fled to Vienna, to the court of Emperor Frederick, where he was promised safety.

There he met Zsófia, the emperor's niece. Zsófia was everything that XY could never be: dignified, cold, calculating. Yet, Ladislaus believed him. Perhaps because he had no one left to talk to. Zsófia listened to him, smiled, sometimes touched his hand — and the king believed that perhaps there was still someone who loved him.

One evening, when the stars slowly faded beyond the window, Zsófia leaned closer and kissed him. Her lips were sweet, her breath fragrant, but a strange coldness remained after her. László did not know that poison lurked in the kiss.

The world became dark. The throne room, the crown, the past all slipped from his hands. Zsófia's face blurred, only one last sentence remained after her:

"Every king falls one day... only the throne remains."

She fell to the ground. When she regained consciousness, there was no one around her. Her bodyguards fled, her advisors betrayed her, the world was silent.