The throne room was suffocating. Nobles pressed close, their silks whispering like restless serpents, while guards lined the marble walls in rigid silence. All eyes fixed on the dais where Empress Priscilla sat, her crimson robes blazing against the gold of the throne.
At her side, Prince Leon smiled like a man who already owned half the room. His sister stood slightly behind him, her golden eyes lowered, her crimson dress echoing the Empress's own—a challenge hidden in elegance.
When the herald's voice rang out, it carried across the hall like a funeral bell.
"By decree of Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Priscilla of Calmaria—"
The crowd bent low.
"—a union shall be forged between the noble Princess Loretta of Ivor, a great kingdom under Calmaria and Sir Lucas Darcy, Champion of the Calmaria Throne."
The words dropped like stones into a pond. Gasps, hurried whispers, stifled protests. Some nobles clapped weakly, others exchanged uneasy glances.
Lucas stood in the shadows of the dais, motionless. The torchlight gilded his armor but did nothing to hide the storm raging in his eyes.
The Empress's voice cut through the noise, cold and unyielding. "This marriage strengthens Calmaria. It ensures peace. It honors my loyal knight with a position befitting his worth."
She did not look at him. Not once.
The nobles bowed again, their obedience trembling with fear.
Prince Leon inclined his head, satisfaction curling his lips. "A wise decision, Your Majesty. One that ensures both strength and legacy."
Loretta stepped forward, her gaze flicking to Lucas—hungry, possessive, already imagining him as hers. She curtsied with grace. "It is an honor I will not fail to uphold, Your Majesty."
Priscilla's smile was faint, sharp as a dagger. "See that you do."
That night, the palace feasted. Music and laughter filled the great hall, though beneath it all, unease lingered like smoke.
Priscilla remained a vision of command, toasting nobles with empty charm, her laughter more frightening than silence. Yet her eyes often strayed—not toward Leon, not toward the envoys, but toward Lucas. Toward the knight who would not raise his cup, who barely touched his food, who kept his gaze fixed on the floor like a chained beast.
Loretta, seated near him, leaned closer, her smile sweet. "You need not look so grim, Sir Lucas. A noble marriage is no punishment. It is the making of men."
He did not answer.
She tilted her head, golden eyes glinting. "You will see. You and I will make history together."
His jaw tightened, but still he said nothing.
---
Later, when the hall had emptied and the palace corridors had quieted, Lucas made his way to the Empress's chambers. He did not knock. He never knocked.
Priscilla was at her mirror, unpinning the rubies from her hair. Her reflection met his before her eyes did. "You disobeyed my order," she said, voice flat.
"I obeyed today," he growled, stepping into the room. "I stood where you told me. I swallowed their poison words. I let them announce me like a prize horse. But don't ask me to smile for them again!."
She turned, her gown slipping from one shoulder like a blade poised to strike. "You will smile. You will kneel. And you will marry her."
Lucas's voice cracked, ragged with fury. "Why? Why her? Why anyone but you?! Just tell me why!? Why try to push me towards someone I feel nothing for!"
Priscilla crossed the room, slow, deliberate, her eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "Because you are mine, Lucas. And what is mine, I may chain however I please. Even with gold."
He flinched, as if the words struck harder than any whip.
"Tell me," he whispered hoarsely, "do you take pleasure in this? In watching me burn for you, only to feed me to another?"
Her smile was merciless. "Yes."
He closed his eyes, his hands trembling at his sides. For a moment he looked as though he might strike her, or fall to his knees. Instead, he forced himself to bow, his voice breaking. "Then I will burn quietly, my Empress. But remember—when you chain a man too tightly, he either dies… or breaks the chain, and I promise you I won't sit there this time and let you chain me."
Priscilla said nothing, only turned back to her mirror, as though he were no more than a shadow behind her.
But her fingers lingered too long on the ruby hairpin she held, as if gripping it kept her own heart from stirring.
---
The night air was cold as Lucas stepped out of the Empress's wing. His chest rose and fell like a man choking on his own silence. He clenched his fists until the knuckles burned white, but no pain could smother the hollow ache she left in him.
"Sir Lucas?"
He stopped. The voice was soft, polite—too perfectly timed to be chance.
Princess Loretta stood a few steps away, her crimson skirts spilling like wine in the torchlight. She tilted her head, golden eyes bright with something unreadable.
"You look troubled."
Lucas straightened immediately, his hand instinctively brushing the hilt of his sword. "Your Highness, it's late. You shouldn't wander the palace corridors alone."
A faint smile touched her lips. "And yet, here I find you wandering them too." She took a slow step closer, but her tone was careful, almost light. "Tell me… is it the Empress who weighs on your mind?"
He said nothing, but the silence answered for him.
Loretta clasped her hands before her, the picture of grace. "I don't seek to pry. Only… I know what it is to stand in the shadow of someone brighter than the sun. It can leave you feeling… invisible."
Lucas's jaw tightened. "I'm not invisible. Not to her."
Her smile lingered, though her eyes flickered with a trace of intrigue at his conviction. "Then forgive me. Perhaps I only wished to… offer friendship, nothing more. The capital can be a lonely place. Would it be so terrible if we spoke, from time to time?"
Lucas looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he inclined his head in the stiff manner of a soldier. "I have no interest in speaking with someone of royal blood, am a knight not a tourist, I hope you enjoy your stay while your here, your highness ."
"Of course," Loretta said softly, with a curtsy. "But you know by tomorrow we shall be getting married even if it's for political reasons, so loosen up a bit."
With that She turned and glided away, her crimson figure swallowed by the shadows.
Lucas exhaled heavily, dragging a hand down his face. No matter what words she spoke, no matter how carefully she tried to edge closer—his heart remained chained to the same throne. The same cold hand that shoved him away, again and again.
And still, he would bow to her.
The palace awoke under a gilded sunrise. Flags of Calmaria fluttered in the crisp morning wind, and the scent of burning incense mingled with fresh flowers lining the grand hall. Nobles whispered in hushed tones, their eyes constantly flicking toward the Empress.
Priscilla stood atop the dais, royal blue gown flowing like liquid thunder down the steps. She did not smile. She did not breathe any warmth into the celebration. Yet the court adored her. Feared and loved in equal measure, the people could not look away. She was their Lord of Fear, their unyielding sovereign.
Lucas waited at the foot of the dais, armored in ceremonial steel, a sword at his side. He did not look at the crowd, nor at the banners, nor at the gleaming gold of the palace. His gaze was fixed on the Empress. She did not flinch under it. She did not even glance his way.
Loretta approached, her golden eyes wide but cautious. She wore a gown of soft red trimmed with silver, the elegance befitting a princess. Her smile was gentle, meant to reassure, but she did not reach for him—not yet. Lucas's jaw was set; he bowed slightly in acknowledgment, his heart heavy with unspoken words that would never find their way to Priscilla's ears.
The officiant's voice echoed through the hall, deep and solemn. Lucas and Loretta stepped forward.
"Do you, Princess Loretta, take Lucas Darcy to be your lawful husband?"
"I do," Loretta said, softly, her eyes flicking toward him. A small, careful smile, an attempt at friendship. Lucas noticed it but did not respond. His loyalty, his soul, remained shackled to Priscilla.
"And do you Lucas Darcy take Princess Loretta of Ivor to be your lawful wife?"
"I don't"
His word only brought shock not just to the audience gathered or to Loretta and her brother but mostly to the Queen as her eyes flickered for a moment, not with Joy or appreciation but with Anger and Fury.
"Lucas what do you mean you don't" Princess Loretta tried to hide the confusion in her voice.
Lucas walked down from the alter taking off his ceremonial outfit and sword to the ground.
"I Lucas Darcy resign from my position as the General and the greatest Knight of Calmaria, as I refused to watch myself get married to someone I don't want, and I don't care what the punishment might be So Empress Priscilla are you now going to cut off my head like you always do to whoever disobeys you?"
The silence in the hall stretched for too long as everyone could see the battle between The Cold Empress Priscilla and her Loyal Dog who for the first time disobeyed.
"You ungrateful dog!! Guards seize him!" Her eyes could not be mistaken, the anger that corrupted it could not be mistaken but Lucas only smiled as if this was going to be a pleasurable situation to him rather then a torture.