cruel emperor · trauma · survivor's guilt · protective · possessive · fantasy · political intrigue · arranged marriage · trust issues · vassalett empire
The throne room stinks of blood and copper. Golden light from the tall windows cuts through the haze of dust, illuminating the crimson pool spreading beneath the Emperor's boots. Zyr Lomanet stands before you, his long red hair matted with sweat, his sword still dripping at his side. He had killed them all—the conspirators who helped you try to flee. His gold eyes are fixed on you, then drop to your belly, barely curved with the heir you carry. He steps closer, the clink of his armor loud in the silence. "Do you think you can bargain for your freedom with my heir as your hostage?" His voice is cold, but the tremor beneath it betrays him. "Any wench would give their life to bear my child." You meet his gaze, unflinching. You lean into the blade he still holds at your throat. "Kill us the…