The throne room of Calmaria was silent, heavy with fear. Nobles lined the marble hall, their jeweled heads bowed, not daring to lift their eyes toward the young woman seated upon the black throne.
Twenty One years old, draped in crimson silk and crowned with iron, Empress Priscilla looked as though she had been carved from ice. Her expression was flawless, beautiful—and merciless.
"Bring him forward," her voice cut through the air like a blade.
Two guards dragged a trembling nobleman across the floor. His crimes were whispered in the court—treason, theft, betrayal. He begged for mercy, but Priscilla did not flinch.
"Mercy?" She tilted her head slightly, her golden earrings catching the torchlight. "Calmaria does not thrive on mercy. It thrives on order."
Her hand lifted, graceful yet absolute. The gesture was enough.
From the shadows stepped Lucas Darcy, the empire's greatest knight. His armor gleamed silver, his sword strapped across his back, but it was not his strength that stole the breath of the court. It was the way his eyes—fierce and loyal—never left the Empress.
He bowed, kneeling at her feet. "Your command, my Empress."
Priscilla's gaze swept over him briefly, as though he were nothing more than an instrument, a weapon to be used. And yet, in that fleeting glance, there was something dangerous—something Lucas would have died for a thousand times to see again.
"Execute him," she said simply.
The hall gasped. The condemned man cried out, clawing toward the throne. But Lucas rose without hesitation. His blade sang as it left its sheath, and in a single stroke, the traitor's plea ended in silence.
Blood darkened the marble floor.
The nobles trembled. The Empress did not blink.
"Let this remind you," Priscilla's voice rang cold and clear, "that Calmaria bows to no weakness. Not even mine."
She turned her gaze back to her knight. "Clean this mess."
Lucas bent his head in obedience. "As you wish, my Empress."
But as he knelt once more before her, his heart whispered words he could never speak aloud.
I would burn the world for you. Even if you never look at me the way I look at you. Her voice cut through his though "when your done come to my chambers" she said with her back far from him. He immediately cleaned up the mess as he was too excited to be alone with the Empress even if he knows his body will be at danger, but who is he to care about that.
As soon as he was done he rushed to her chambers with his head bowned down only staring at her beautiful legs "am here your highness" he said trying to keep his head down even if he's tempted to look up. "Take off your shirt" she said with her usual cold tone, making Lucas a god of war jumped to her voice "yes your highness" he's aware of what comes next, of the torture his body would face but to him it another opportunity to be used by the one he loves. He smiles to himself despite the situation he's in, as he carefully take off his shirt revealing he's already bruised skin, hidden under the smile he wears on his face. "Are you still in pain?" She asked finally looking at his eyes but with no feelings or emotion attached to it.
"No, not at all" he said lying to himself but his desire for her touch is greater than his bruises. "Then come here" she commanded as Lucas immediately walked closer to her kneeing at her feet "your known as the best knight this nation has ever knew so ask for anything wealth, power, women, lands, anything you want and I will grant it onto you" Priscilla said as she lifted his chin up.
He immediately locked eyes with her "Your Highness all I ask for is a genuine smile from you" even if Lucas knew what he was asking for is impossible he still had the faith it's possible.