Draven stopped before the throne, posture unbent, his chin lifted high. He refused to bow, defiance blazing in his eyes.
A guard, enraged by the audacity, barked, "Kneel before the King of Vanilor!"
Torin's lips curled into a cruel smile. Two guards lunged forward, forcing Draven violently to the ground.
Victor's fists clenched at his sides. The urge to interfere surged through him, but he held back, his eyes fixed on Draven's. The fire of rebellion burned within the captive's gaze, and it stirred something inside Victor that had long been buried.
******
The air was thick with a foulness that clung to Draven as he was dragged into the prison. It was not the simple stench of a forgotten garbage bin. No, it was heavier, suffocating with damp stone, rusted chains, and the press of too many bodies breathing the same stale air.
The corridor stretched long, lined on either side with barred cells. Prisoners pressed against the iron, their faces peering through the shadows, some staring in silence, others muttering under their breath.
Why are they all looking at me? Draven thought, his eyes shifting from one side to the other, catching fragments of gaunt, watchful faces behind the bars.
The guards stopped at a cell where a lone young man sat inside. A sleek black cat rested across his shoulders, its tail lazily twitching. One of the guards pulled the door open with a heavy creak while the other unlocked the shackles at Draven's ankles. Without warning, they shoved him in. The iron door slammed shut, the lock snapping into place as their footsteps retreated down the corridor.
For a moment, silence settled over the row of cells.
Draven moved to a corner, his body trembling as he sank down, lowering his head. His shoulders shook, and soft sobs slipped from him, though he tried to smother them.
The young man, who had been sitting quietly, touched the cat's back. It stretched, then slid down from his shoulders to the ground, padding away toward the far corner. Only then did the young man shift his gaze toward Draven. His voice finally broke the silence, cold and cutting.
"At least you didn't let him see those tears."
He rose slowly and stepped closer to Draven.
"Leave me alone," Draven muttered, his voice hoarse and cracked, his head still bowed.
"I've been behind these bars for two years," the young man said, his tone hard but edged with weariness. "Two years hoping I wouldn't remain here alone forever."
He paused, studying Draven's trembling frame.
"They threw me in here, branded an intruder by the people of Aethel and its king…" He placed a hand on Draven's shoulder.
Draven snapped his head up, eyes blazing. "Get your hands off me," he growled, jerking away.
The young man scoffed and stepped back to his corner, dropping onto the stone bench. The black cat leapt lightly onto his lap, curling there as he stroked its fur.
"Guess you wouldn't be here if you had shown that fire earlier," he muttered.
The space between them fell quiet again.
The young man lay flat on the stone floor, face turned upward, arms folded behind his head.
"Name's Sean." He breathed heavily.
"Goodnight. Bro."
Draven's eyes narrowed, a quiet promise of vengeance burning in them.
✦IN ASHVALE✦
Queen Vashti, striking and radiant, sat before her mirror. Her almond-shaped green eyes glowed in the dim light, framed by the fall of her dark hair. A sheer linen gown clung to her form, accentuating the curve of her hips and the rise of her breasts.
The door creaked open. In the mirror's reflection, she saw Ethan approach.
"Spoiled," she murmured, her voice rich with allure as she rose to greet him.
"Mirror, mirror on the wall," Ethan said, his hands painting the words in the air as he moved toward her. "Who is the fairest of them all?"
He stopped before her, eyes locking with hers. "You are, my queen."
Vashti lifted her hands to his face, caressing him tenderly before stealing a kiss. A cold amusement colored her voice when she whispered, "My mirror is a man."
Ethan smiled, his gaze searching hers. "And I refuse to be fixed to the wall."
A smile ghosted across Vashti's lips, soft at first, then deepening as her eyes lingered on him. The air between them shifted, charged with desire.
Her hand slid lower, slipping beneath the fabric of his trousers. Fingers curled around his cock, she teased him with a slow, deliberate touch as her lips claimed his again. Ethan groaned, his hands closing on her thighs as he lifted her against his hips.
The door burst open. A figure froze on the threshold.
Vashti broke the kiss, tilting her head toward the intruder. It was her personal messenger, Sunny.
Silence thickened the air.
"Sunny," Vashti said, her emerald eyes narrowing.
The messenger bowed quickly, hands clasped in front of him. "My queen."
Her lips curved into a smile, sweet yet false. "Disappear. And do not let me see you again until dusk." The smile hardened into a mask of cruelty.
"Yes, Your Majesty." Sunny retreated, backing from the room with his head bowed.
Vashti's gaze lingered on the closed door before returning to Ethan.
"That was..." Ethan began, but Vashti silenced him with a finger against his lips.
"Not now!" She exclaimed.
Her hand slid to the back of his neck, drawing him into a deep, hungry kiss. Their bodies pressed together, urgency searing through them as their clothes fell to the floor. Ethan lifted her onto the vanity table, their movements scattering powders and jewels across the marble.
Vashti's legs parted, pulling him closer. One hand gripped the back of his neck while the other clutched his butt cheek, her nails digging into his skin with feverish need.
Her moans poured into his mouth, pulled from her by the slow, deliberate rhythm of his fingers working inside her pussy.
◈The Next Morning◈
Vashti and Ethan lay sprawled across the vast canopy bed, their bodies wrapped beneath a heavy royal coverlet embroidered with threads of crimson and gold. The scent of sandalwood lingered in the air, mingling with the warmth of their closeness.
Vashti's fingers traced slowly across Ethan's chest, her touch both tender and commanding. Her voice was velvet and steel as she spoke of Vanilor. "It will fall to us," she murmured. "But not by waiting. An unexpected strike will break them. My dreamwalking will carry me into the mind of my spy within their walls. Through him, I will sow the first crack."
Ethan's eyes shadowed with thought, but before he could answer, the chamber doors creaked open.
Sunny entered swiftly, sinking to one knee, his head bowed low and his hands pressed against the polished floor in reverence.
Vashti's emerald gaze lingered on him, sharp and unblinking, before sliding toward Ethan.
Ethan's voice cut through the silence, calm yet commanding. "Speak. Why have you come?"
Sunny lifted his head slowly, urgency tightening his voice. "A letter, my lord. A letter from Torin of Vanilor."
Vashti and Ethan exchanged a glance, then looked back at Sunny.