Uos Maris Patria

Your first guess was that he had to be a cosplayer. That was the only reasonable explanation. A very convincing cosplayer, admittedly, but still. Except there was no event in the city. No convention. No staged shoot. No photographer lurking nearby. And this small, ordinary café was a completely absurd place for a photoshoot for a man like Sylus anyway. Besides, cosplayers wore masks. For health reasons, but also because people could be cruel. Because strangers did not always know where fantasy ended and reality began.

No.

That man behind you did not look like a cosplayer. He looked exactly like Sylus. You caught his reflection shifting. His gaze had lifted. He was looking right at you now. Your breath caught, and you snapped the mirror shut so quickly your fingers nearly slipped.

Think.

You needed proof. You grabbed your phone, unlocked it with trembling hands, and opened the game. The loading screen appeared. You almost laughed at yourself for how ridiculous this was, but then the game music burst out too loudly and you had to fumble to turn the sound off before anyone noticed. When the main screen loaded, you were expecting to see him there. In some ridiculous outfit, maybe. Probably sporting that awful scarf from one of the promises, that you actually regretted buying now. That same maddening expression he wore as if even in game he knew something you didn’t.

But the screen was empty.

You frowned and checked the settings. He was selected. You exited and reopened the game. Still nothing. Then you went through the other Love and Deepspace men, one by one. They all appeared exactly where they were supposed to.

You returned to Sylus.

Nothing.

Just the café background. Blank. Empty. Wrong.

Your pulse began to race. This did not make sense. None of this made sense. You started a game repair with shaking fingers, as if that would somehow help. It did not. When the screen finished loading again, the spot where Sylus should have been was still empty.

Your stomach dropped.

This was impossible.

This was…

“Looking for someone?”

You jolted so hard your shoulder hit the back of the chair. Your head snapped to the sound of his voice. And there he was.

Sylus sat down across from you like he had every right to be there, like he had merely stepped over a line no one else could see. His crimson eyes rested on you with that same amused, knowing look that had made your brain short-circuit a hundred times before.

You stared at him.

Then at your phone.

Then back at him.

His gaze flicked to the screen, and your face went hot enough to set the café on fire. You shoved the phone face-down onto the table and locked it.

You wanted to ask how he had gotten here.

You wanted to ask if you were hallucinating.

You wanted to ask if this was real.

But the words would not come.

Sylus tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“Not going to ask anything?” he said.

You swallowed hard.

“This…” Your voice came out small. Frayed. “This isn’t real.”

His brow lifted. “Is that so?”

“I probably ate something strange,” you muttered, staring at your own hands now because it felt safer than looking at him. “This is probably some kind of stress-induced hallucination.”

Then you felt it. Warm fingers covering your hand. Solid. Real. You sucked in a sharp breath. Sylus’s hand was larger than yours, warm and steady and undeniably there. His thumb brushed once over your knuckles, and the sensation sent a shock of awareness through you.

“Does this feel like an illusion to you?” he asked quietly.

You shut your eyes for a second and shook your head. Your heart thudded painfully.

“How…” You swallowed. “How are you here?”

Sylus leaned back slightly, though he did not remove his hand.

“For a dragon,” he said, “sensing abnormalities in a world is not particularly difficult.”

You blinked at him.

“What does that mean?”

His expression shifted, becoming more serious.

“At first, it was subtle. I started hearing things.” His gaze remained on yours. “Voices. People talking to me. About me.”

You stared.

“Voices?”

He nodded once.

“At first, they were fragmented. Hard to understand. But the more I listened, the clearer it became.” His thumb stroked slowly over your knuckles. “There was a collective desire behind them. Not one voice, but many. A pull.”

Your breath caught. He glanced down at your phone, then back at you.

“The players.”

The word landed heavily between you.

Sylus continued, calm and matter-of-fact in that way he had when explaining something extraordinary as if it were completely ordinary.

“The concentration of so many thoughts, so much attention directed toward me… So much desire… it created pressure. Enough to reveal weaknesses.”

“Weaknesses?” you murmured before you could stop yourself.

He looked at you a moment longer, and the expression on his face made your chest tighten.

“Cracks between worlds,” he said. “Small ones. Unstable, but usable if you know where to look. I slipped through.”

You stared at him. Your fingers curled slightly beneath his. You suddenly became aware of how quiet the café had gone for you. The espresso machine hissed in the background. Cups clinked. Somebody laughed near the counter. Life went on around you as if you were not sitting across from a man who had stepped out of a game and into your reality. Then the thought hit you so hard it nearly made you dizzy.

“Why me?” you asked.

Sylus said nothing. That made the ache in your chest worse. You gave a small, helpless laugh that did not sound like laughter at all.

“I mean… if this is really possible… if you really crossed over because of all of that… then why did you come to me? There are so many other players.” Your throat tightened. “So many people who probably know more, or are prettier, or have better reactions, or have spent more money, or have loved you longer…”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. You were spiraling now, and you knew it. But you could not stop yourself.

“Why me?” you whispered again, quieter this time. “I’m just one player.”

Sylus went very still. Then, very gently, he took your other hand too.

The gesture was careful.

Deliberate.

Like he was grounding you before you floated too far away from him.

“Sweetie,” he said, and there was something far softer in his voice now, “you are not just one player.”

Your breath caught. You looked at him, and he held your gaze without flinching.

 “You asked questions. You looked at me as though I existed even when I was only a collection of data on a screen.” His eyes softened, just slightly. “That matters.”

You stared at him, stunned. And then the insecurity came rushing back, because of course it did. Your voice dropped to a whisper.

“But there are other players who care more.”

Sylus’s brow furrowed.

“More?”

You looked down. “There are people who know every detail about you. People who have played longer, spent more, made more art, written more, loved you harder. I’m just…” You swallowed. “I’m just me.”

The words felt stupid the second they left your mouth, but they had already escaped. For a moment, Sylus only looked at you. Then he exhaled slowly.

“I do not measure value by how loud someone is,” he said.

You blinked. He squeezed your hands once, briefly.

“Nor by how many times they repeat my name into the void.”

That almost made you laugh. Almost.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered.

“And yet, you are still here.”

You glanced up at him. The amused softness in his face had not changed, but something deeper lay under it now. Something steady. Certain.

“I heard many voices,” he said, quieter. “Many desires. But yours was the one I could follow.”

Your chest tightened painfully.

“Mine?”

“Yes.”

He looked at you like the answer had always been obvious.

“Because you didn’t look at me like a fantasy to be consumed,” he said. “You looked at me like I was real long before I ever became real to you.”

You forgot how to breathe for a second. You looked down at your hands, still in his, and suddenly you felt too warm, too aware, too small in the face of something huge and impossible and entirely real.

“That’s unfair,” you murmured.

“What is?”

“You say things like that and expect me not to freak out.”

His eyes crinkled faintly. “I am not expecting anything.”

That, somehow, was worse. You let out a shaky breath. Across from you, Sylus continued to hold your hands like this was the most natural thing in the world. Like he had not crossed between realities to sit in a café with you.

It made your chest hurt in a completely different way. Because if he had chosen you…Then he had seen something in you.

Something the others had not.

Something you were not sure you could even see in yourself.

“You really mean it?” you asked quietly.

Sylus’s expression softened.

“Yes.”

No hesitation.

No teasing.

No games.

You stared at him for another long moment, then looked away again because your eyes were beginning to sting and you absolutely refused to cry in a café over a fictional dragon.

Not fictional, your traitorous brain reminded you. Real. Very, very real.

Sylus seemed to understand the direction of your thoughts without you saying a word.

“You are overthinking,” he said.

“I am not.”

“You are.”

You glared at him, and this time he actually looked pleased with himself. That familiar amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth, grounding you just enough to breathe again.

Then he stood.

The movement startled you.

Your head shot up. “What are you doing?”

He glanced at the untouched cup beside your hand, then back at you.

“Leaving before you decide to vanish into that spiral of yours,” he said. “Unless you would prefer to stay here and continue interrogating me.”

You blinked up at him.

“You say that like I have a choice.”

His mouth quirked.

“You do.”

That single answer made your chest ache all over again. You looked at his hand still resting lightly over yours.

Then at his face.

Then back down.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you,” you admitted.

Sylus’s smile widened just a little.

“That makes two of us.”

He reached for your hand and lifted it from the table, brushing his thumb over your knuckles before letting go.

“Come on,” he said.

You stared at him. “Come where?”

His red eyes gleamed.

“Anywhere you want.”

And after everything, after the disbelief, the fear, the insecurity, the impossible reality of him sitting across from you… you found yourself standing too. Because maybe you were still scared. Maybe you still did not understand why he had chosen you over anyone else.

But Sylus was here.

And for the moment, that was enough.

The first thing Sylus did after stepping into your apartment was look around as if he were assessing a hostile territory.

The second thing he did was ask, very calmly, “How does one acquire money in this world?”

You choked on your own air.

He stood in the middle of your living room like he had somehow already decided this was now his domain, red eyes sweeping over your tiny apartment with cool, exacting focus. He had taken the answer to “you can stay here for now” with alarming seriousness. Not even an hour had passed, and he already looked less like a man displaced from one world and more like someone preparing to conquer another one from the ground up.

You stared at him.

“You could start with a job,” you said carefully.

Sylus’s brows lifted a fraction.

“A job,” he repeated, as if the word itself were mildly insulting.

“Yes. Employment. Welcome to Earth.”

He looked at you for a moment, then gave a thoughtful hum.

“How much money does this world consider acceptable?”

You blinked.

“That depends on a lot of things.”

“And how quickly can I acquire enough of it to be useful?”

There it was. That familiar tone. You had heard it before in the game when he was planning, maneuvering, deciding. The same cold efficiency. The same absolute refusal to accept helplessness. Only now he had no power, no money,  no network of loyal people waiting at his call.

You should have found that amusing. Instead, a strange little warmth curled in your chest. Because he looked offended by the very concept of starting from nothing. And Sylus Qin, apparently, did not intend to stay at nothing for long.

He adapted too quickly.

That was the first alarming thing you learned. The second was that his version of “adapting” did not involve slowly learning how to survive like a normal person.

No.

He treated your world the way he treated everything else: as a system to be understood, mapped, and eventually mastered. Within the first day, he was already analyzing local business trends with unsettling speed. He read everything. Job listings, investment articles, corporate structures, property values, tax laws.

You found him at three in the morning, sitting at your kitchen table in silence, one of your spare laptops open in front of him while he read through financial articles.

You stopped in the doorway.

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t even look up.

“Learning.”

“Learning what?”

“How this world works.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“You’ve been awake for four hours.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not even blinking enough.”

He lifted his gaze then, one brow arched.

“Do you need me to be less efficient?”

You made a face.

“No, but I do need you to sleep.”

“I will. During the day. I thought you knew I’m nocturnal.”

You stared. Then groaned and went to make tea. Because somehow, despite everything, he still looked unfairly good sitting at your kitchen table while dismantling modern society one website at a time.

By the end of the second week, your apartment felt like the beginning of something.

He had folders stacked neatly on your table, notes organized by color, a second laptop of his own already ordered and somehow delivered with suspicious speed. He knew the transit routes in your city. He had memorized the names of half the relevant companies. He had probably already identified three people who could be turned into allies, two who could be pressured, and one who would likely become a problem later.

You should have been alarmed. Instead, you found yourself watching him from the kitchen doorway with a coffee mug in both hands, a little helpless and a little in awe.

He looked up.

“You’ve been staring.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No.”

You smiled faintly.

“Do you ever slow down?”

Sylus’s expression softened at that.

“Not when I have a reason not to.”

You went quiet.

Because you knew what he meant.

You.

You were the reason.

And now Sylus was already making himself into something larger. Because he was determined to make a place for himself here, in your world. And because, as always, he had decided that if he was going to love you…

Then he would do it properly.

The shift wasn’t obvious at first.

It didn’t happen in one dramatic moment where everything suddenly clicked into place.

It started with names.

At first, Sylus mentioned them casually over breakfast, while scrolling through his phone, or when you passed by him in the apartment.

“This one is useful.”

“That one is predictable.”

“He’ll fold under pressure within a month.”

You had assumed he was still studying people. You didn’t realize he had already started moving pieces. His phone rang more often. Short calls. Precise conversations. Meetings that he didn’t even bother to explain to you anymore. He started leaving the apartment more and coming back later with that look in his eyes, the one he had after a successful move. Satisfied. Focused.

Then came the news.

You weren’t even looking for it. It just… showed up. A headline on your phone. Something about a shift in ownership. A company restructuring. New investors entering the field.

You wouldn’t have paid attention. Except the name.

Qin.

Your heart skipped. You opened the article. Read it once. Then again. Then a third time, slower.

There it was. Buried in the details. A newly established entity. Minimal public information. Rapid acquisition of influence. And at the center of it him. You swallowed.

“No way…”

You found him at home that evening.

Calm as ever. Like he hadn’t just quietly inserted himself into your world’s power structure. You stared at him. Really stared this time.

This wasn’t just adaptation anymore. This wasn’t just him trying to get by. He was building something. Faster than should be possible.

And the worst part?

It didn’t look like luck.

It didn’t look like coincidence.

It looked like control.

Like he had done this before.

Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“You’re going to take over everything, aren’t you?” you asked quietly.

Sylus’s gaze softened slightly at your tone.

“Not take over.”

You waited. He tilted his head just a fraction.

“Establish myself.”

“That sounds like the same thing.”

“It isn’t.”

You let out a breath.

“It feels like it.”

Silence stretched between you. Then you stepped closer.

“Sylus.”

He looked at you immediately. You swallowed.

“You just got here.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have anything here.”

“That’s temporary.”

“That’s my point,” you said, voice tightening slightly. “You’re acting like you’ve been here your whole life. Like this is just another game to win, another world to conquer.”

Something flickered in his eyes.

 “I don’t lose,” he said simply.

You exhaled shakily.

“I know.”

And that was the problem.

You looked down at your hands.

“You’re moving too fast.”

“No,” he said quietly. “I am moving at the speed required.”

You shook your head.

“You don’t even know if this world will let you…”

“It will.”

You looked up at him.

And froze.

Because he wasn’t guessing. He wasn’t hoping.

He knew.

Sylus stepped closer. His hand lifted, brushing lightly against your cheek.

“You’re worried,” he said.

“Yes,” you admitted.

“Why?”

You let out a small, helpless laugh.

“Because this is insane! Because you’re doing things people take years to do in weeks. Because I don’t even understand half of what you’re doing anymore. Because…”

Your voice caught.

“Because I don’t know where I fit into all of this.”

That made him pause. Really pause. His hand stilled against your cheek.

And for the first time since all of this started he looked not like a strategist. Not like someone calculating his next move. But like himself.

“You,” he said quietly, “are the reason I am doing any of this.”

Your breath hitched.

 “Do you think I crossed worlds for power?” he asked softly.

You didn’t answer.

He huffed, almost amused.

“I had that already.”

His thumb brushed lightly under your eye.

“I am rebuilding it,” he continued, “because this world does not give me the means to take care of you the way I intend to.”

Your heart twisted.

“Sylus…”

“And I will not accept that.”

Silence.

“You’re terrifying, you know that?”

A faint smirk returned.

“I’ve been told.”

You shook your head, but your hand found his anyway.

“Just don’t forget to live here too,” you murmured. “Not just conquer it.”

Something in his expression softened again.

 “I won’t,” he said.

Then, quieter:

“Not when you’re here.” And after a small pause he added as the familiar red mist gathered around him. “Now, what do you say to having three more guests here?”

It was ridiculous how bland court meetings always were. 

One would assume that as the ruler of the Galactic Empire, your life would be full of entertainment and thrill. To everyone on the outside, the Empress lived in the lap of luxury; she got doted on hand and foot, received the best food, clothing, and education that money could buy, and she frolicked through the palace without a care in the world. She was the physical embodiment of opulence and poise– someone that people either wanted to be or be with. 

If only, you thought bitterly. None of your subjects could ever fathom the truth of the matter. 

Instead of experiencing any shred of amusement, you were fighting to keep your eyelids open as you sat in on your third court meeting of the day. You weren’t afforded the right to refuse– not with the current state of galactic affairs. Sure, you were catered to. Yes, you had more power and sway than most people could possibly imagine. But it was boring. You just snapped your fingers and got whatever you wanted. There was no cognitive stimulation– no real effort. 

And as for frolicking? Perish the thought. It was unbecoming of the heir to the throne to even run, let alone gallivant listlessly. Your ladies-in-waiting were more like glorified chaperones with how they shadowed your every move– and the Seneschals? God, you wanted to toss every last one of those power-hungry vipers from the highest tower yourself and be done with it. Maybe then you’d finally get a break from listening to the Minister and the Imperial Guard’s General drone at you for hours on end.

The only real excitement you’d experienced in quite possibly your entire pampered life was the arrival of Khaosi’s Sovereign. Along with the Erythrostone engagement ring adorning your finger, he had brought enough drama to supply couriers for years. He had been annoyingly absent in recent days, however, which left you with little else to do but play the part of the responsible, proactive Empress-To-Be. 

You had to stifle a yawn as the Minister turned back to face you in the wake of addressing the court. His beady eyes were frantic as he threw his hands up imploringly, revealing two matching stains beneath his underarms that you couldn’t stop yourself from sneering at. 

“We must be vigilant! With tensions rising throughout the cosmos, it’s only a matter of time before war makes its way to our borders!”

“Guard rotations in the palace have already been doubled,” the Strategist stated firmly, diverting the court’s attention away from the Minister. “In addition, we’ve been coordinating with the weather system engineers to use the kingdom-wide cameras as an added means of surveillance– at least until we know what Rogray and Zynlai are planning.”

The Minister scoffed loudly and narrowed his eyes at the Strategist, his distaste for the woman plain as day. “Weren’t you listening to the General before? They’re working together! Recruiting mercenaries in preparation for an attack! We need to take the fight to them or we run the risk of civilian casualties. God only knows who else in the galaxy is conspiring with them– with the kinds of weapons they’ve gotten their hands on, it’s all too likely that Sylus has a hand in–” 

“Enough,” you sighed, officially at your wits end with the Minister’s directionless rambling. 

“He does have a point, Your Majesty…” 

Knowing full well that you hadn’t just imagined silencing the room, you shot a scathing glare at the Strategist. She blanched under your scrutiny, dropping her gaze to the floor and clasping her hands behind her back as she pursed her lips. When she opened her mouth again to continue despite your wordless warning, you stiffened. 

“I’m simply saying that Khaosi’s Sovereign is synonymous with destruction. His track record speaks for itself, and while he might say he usurped Rogray’s position as the leader of Khaosi, how do we know he’s not lying?” 

Hushed murmurs broke out amongst the officials in the main hall, the Strategist’s words striking a cord of discontent that washed over the crowd like a wave. Beyond feeling strangely offended that she would insult Sylus so brazenly, your anger at being so readily dismissed was quickly growing stronger. Had everyone here lost their minds? 

None the wiser to the dithering stare you aimed at the side of her head, she pressed on. “Maybe the two of them are working together to launch an attack on the Empire. Maybe Sylus’ true intention was always to infiltrate the palace under the guise of marriage. Your Majesty, I think it would be wise to annul–” 

“Enough!” 

You shot out of your seat in a flash, your hands curling into fists as you trembled with indignant rage. The commanding bite of your tone rang out throughout the room, reverberating off the walls and dousing the entirety of the crowd in silence. The Strategist had the good grace to flinch as you glowered down your nose at her. It was gratifying to see she still knew her place, and while this was the ideal setting to punish her for speaking out of turn, you couldn’t afford to act so impulsively. Too many court officials had taken what she’d said to heart. If you reprimanded her now, the mounting opposition against you would only grow. 

You had to be careful. Even though it infuriated you to overlook her disregard for your authority, you had to keep catering to the masses, biding your time until…

Until what? Until Sylus made his move and killed you? Or Zynlai? There were so many invisible knives pointed at you– so many threats that you could barely keep track of one before another popped up. 

You tsk’d under your breath, descending the shallow steps surrounding the platform your throne sat atop. During your youth, your mentors had explained that the pedestal was to further convey that the seat of the Empire was the tallest point in the world. Metaphorically, of course. Evidently the concept of being above everybody was just another one of the Empire’s illusions since no one here listened to you. Unbelievable. 

Keeping your back to the room, you stood before one of the towering windows lining the side of the main hall and took in the sight of the stars twinkling overhead. Your orders were directed at the scenery outside– still too pissed off to bother addressing the witless idiots that apparently viewed your commands as optional. 

“Gather our most elite troops from the military and send word to the engineers. We’ll be preparing a suppression campaign against Zynlai and Rogray, and I intend to have their crimes publicly displayed on every available hologram throughout the kingdom.” You turned your cold, unyielding expression on the court from over your shoulder, taking your time to make eye contact with every last one of the officials standing in the crowd. “No one is to catch wind of this. Understood?” 

Resounding calls of acknowledgement filled the main hall, much to your approval. It took another hour to comb through the details of your plan, but with the General’s helpful input along with the added arrival of a few high ranking engineers, a solid foundation was laid for the suppression campaign. There was still the matter of the anti-radar systems Zynlai utilized to hide his military base from detection, but you had a few ideas of your own to handle that particular problem. 

Darkness spilled through the windows by the time the court meeting was finally adjourned. While there was still a laundry list of things to discuss, your brain felt like it was melting in your skull, and you wisely figured that you weren’t the only one in need of a break. 

The stillness of the main hall was refreshing after hours spent listening to countless different voices. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that you would sleep like the dead tonight, the prospect of falling into bed and closing your eyes so appealing that you couldn’t help but sigh. 

Your peaceful moment of tranquility was interrupted, however, when the Strategist’s grating voice reached your ears. It wasn’t until then you realized that she’d stayed behind. 

“Your Majesty, please forgive me, but… it would be wise to consider annulling your engagement with Sylus as soon as possible. Times have changed since the Empire made its deal with Khaosi. With the suppression campaign underway, seeing the betrothal through will do more harm than good.” 

A muscle in the side of your jaw popped as you clenched your teeth together. It was the only thing you could do to refrain from snapping at the woman. You knew she was only doing her job, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that she was overstepping. 

More to the point, her less than stellar views on Sylus– while entirely warranted– offended you for some reason. 

Thankfully the Strategist didn’t wait for you to reply. She took her leave immediately after speaking, the door to the main hall slamming shut with a resounding boom that confirmed that after far too long, you were finally alone. 

—

It didn’t take long for your ladies-in-waiting to appear behind you once you deigned to exit the main hall. Not that their sudden presence surprised you, though. You weren’t naive enough to delude yourself into believing you could ever have the space to breathe without someone tailing you. 

The two masked women stayed a few paces behind you as you moved through the east wing towards your chambers. Most of the palace’s denizens had retired for the night, which meant that apart from the guards posted throughout the corridors, the halls were largely deserted. Candelabras cast dancing shadows across the walls, and your heels clicked against the marble floor and echoed sharply throughout the spacious passage. 

Your eyes were fixed straight ahead as you walked with your head held high, your perfect posture the byproduct of years spent listening to your mentors nagging. The phantom feeling of your old advisors digging their fingers into your slouched spine still dogged at your heels even now, their countless lessons echoing in your head like a mantra. 

“Stand up straight. Imagine there’s a string pulling you from the top of your head.” 

“A regent never waves. If you must acknowledge someone, a slight dip of the chin will do.” 

“An Empress does not run through the halls like a crazed commoner. Slow down. Your every move must be measured and intentional.” 

“Even when you’re alone, you must act as if you are not.” 

“Don’t laugh like that– no self-respecting heir cackles like a hyena.” 

At some point, you’d convinced yourself that the list of things you could do was infinitely shorter than the list of things you were prohibited from. 

With bitter thoughts and age-old resentments festering in your mind, you maintained your leisurely pace as you made your way to your chambers, dimly registering a group of guards coming down the opposite end of the hall. It wasn’t required for you to acknowledge them, but with the sorts of memories you found yourself dwelling on, the subtle lowering of your chin at them was almost instinctive. 

The fact that the guards didn’t stop to move out of your path and bow, however, was the one thing that snapped you out of your trip down memory lane. Not because your ego was so large that you demanded such blind reverence– it was because they had to. 

A cold sense of dread washed over you as you kept walking, following the cluster of guards through the corner of your eye as they marched down the corridor out of sync with one another. The second red flag. No legitimate palace sentry would make such a simple mistake– especially not in the presence of the Empress. 

Time passed at a snail’s pace as your respective paths finally crossed; the guards heading west while you and your ladies-in-waiting moved east. Not a single one of the four armored men gave any indication that they even knew who you were. You were entirely ignored as they trudged onward, and for a fleeting moment, you started to convince yourself they were merely new to their roles and didn’t know what was expected of them. 

Then the guard at the back of the group looked at you with awareness that said otherwise. He knew who you were. 

Something was wrong. 

Before you could voice the accusations forming on your tongue, the entire hallway was plunged into stifling, inky darkness. The sconces lining the walls and the chandeliers overhead were snuffed out faster than you could process. Your skin crawled, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end as the telling presence of an unknown power filled the corridor. The air surrounding you became thicker than quicksand, and you coughed in alarm before realizing that doing so was a mistake. 

It wasn’t that the air was thick– it was gone. 

From behind you, your ladies-in-waiting began to wheeze as the effects of the unfamiliar power spread to them as well. The haunting sound of them suffocating was all you could hear apart from your heart pounding in your ears, until all of it was interrupted by a nasally voice you didn’t recognize. 

“Good evening, Your Majesty.” It took every ounce of strength you possessed to stay composed as the guard you’d locked eyes with before sauntered back into your line of sight. His fiendish grin coupled with the pure malice fueling his stare told you everything you needed to know; these men were not friendly. “I apologize for the late night summons, but your presence is needed outside of the palace.” 

It was his power keeping oxygen from your lungs, you realized. Was it an Evol that gave him control over air? Or was it all an illusion– an ability that simply made you think you were being suffocated? 

It hardly mattered at present. Whatever it was, it was quickly diminishing your brain’s willingness to function. 

The smarmy guard looked far too smug for your liking as the lack of air started to burn your insides. Your chest rose sharply as you tried to breathe once more, but unsurprisingly, your efforts were in vain. Through the slits in his helmet, you saw the guard’s smile grow until nearly all of his teeth were bared. 

“It’s unpleasant, right?” he cooed sarcastically, stepping closer to rake his eyes down your rigid body. “Don’t worry– it’ll be over soon enough. Although I’m sure you’ll wish you’d met your end here when Zynlai finally gets his hands on you… I can’t imagine he’ll make things quick and painless.” 

Zynlai? Fuck– of course he was responsible for this.

The mention of the former heir’s name was enough to compel you to take a step forward, but your knees buckled as the lack of oxygen made your limbs weaker. You heard something distinctly like a body hit the floor behind you, and when you craned your head back to look, you saw your ladies-in-waiting collapsed against one another in motionless heaps. 

This was bold, even for Zynlai. Sending mercenaries to asphyxiate you before kidnapping you? He wouldn’t even do you the courtesy of killing you when you met in battle– he had to stoop so low that he’d go to lengths like this? 

The traitorous roach had never seemed impressive to you before, and now against all odds, you thought him to be even more unremarkable. You’d known back when his father had been beheaded that sparing Zynlai the same fate was a mistake. The acting Regent at the time had foolishly believed that showing mercy would leave the former heir feeling indebted to the Empire– that he would act as a useful pawn in making your ascension to the throne easier. 

It was wishful thinking at best. The vicious, loathsome way Zynlai had stared you down on the day you had been decreed the new heir all but confirmed what you’d already known; cooperation was the last thing on his mind. 

But be that as it may, conspiring with Rogray had evidently filled his head with grandiose delusions that you were more than happy to squash. 

Your own power ignited within you at the same time the fake guard drew his dagger. His pride blinded him to the awareness still housed behind your eyes, and the moment he reached out to firmly grasp your shoulder, you knew Zynlai was as arrogant a fool as they came. 

By sending his goons here, he had all but signed their death warrants himself. 

Your hand flew up to grip the mercenary’s, the speed with which you moved startling him more than the action itself. Then your Evol lashed out– sinking its teeth deep before clamping down with commanding force– and his attempts at moving away were effortlessly halted. 

In the blink of an eye, the suffocating effects of the intruder’s Evol were banished. The air that filled your lungs in the next second was so gratifying that you shuddered, but you held yourself steady and funneled more power into the brute you clung to, dominating him so completely that he gasped and collapsed to his knees. 

Heightening and magnifying the abilities of others had always been the focal point of your Evol… but what could be strengthened could also be weakened.

“I pity you,” you stated calmly, picking up on the muted sound of the other three guards closing in on you from behind. “Coming here and thinking you could overpower me like this? Please. You must have pissed Zynlai off if he made you believe you stood a chance, because even he knew better than to trifle with me when he was still polluting the palace with his presence.” 

You sent another stinging surge of your Evol through the mercenary for extra measure, prompting him to release his dagger as he convulsed in response to your power uprooting his own. You let go of his hand with a sneer when he slumped towards the ground before lifting your knee to kick him backwards. The assailant went down in a twitching, groaning heap, and you quickly snatched up the dropped weapon before spinning on your heel to face the remaining three cronies. 

You raised the dagger in preparation, ready and willing to do as much damage as possible even at the cost of your own life. There wasn’t a chance in the cosmos that you were just going to lie down and accept defeat. But as the space between you and the mercenaries shrank inch by inch, the determined expressions behind their helmets becoming clearer, the sudden arrival of another equally commanding power entered your vicinity. 

One that you recognized instantly. 

Red, swirling mist blasted through the window to your left, sending shards of glass in every direction while mysteriously avoiding you and your incapacitated ladies-in-waiting. Every last fragment converged on the three fake guards and struck them where it mattered– slipping through the cracks in their armor with sentient-like precision. Screams of pain and terror twined together and echoed throughout the corridor, deafening you as you blinked in shock at the bloody scene before you. 

The mercenaries writhed in agony, pulling on their stolen uniforms as they tried and failed to get to the areas where glass had pierced their bodies. It was like they were possessed– hopelessly clawing at armor in a bid to reach an invisible assailant you couldn’t see but knew was there. But then the horrific display was blocked from your sight, and an achingly familiar uniform that was drastically different from the Empire’s manifested in front of you, taking up the entirety of your view. 

Sylus’ hands cradled your face as he angled your head up at him, the glow behind his crimson eyes fading as his power receded and became dormant. The howling mercenaries on the ground were wholly ignored as your fiancé swept his gaze over you frantically, seemingly searching you for any injuries, and it was the threatening set to his jaw that finally snapped you out of your momentary stupor.

“I’m fine,” you said by way of greeting. 

“With all due respect, Your Majesty,” his fiery eyes captured yours and held your stare with a degree of authority that made you hesitate. “I’ll be the judge of that.” 

Like hell he would. If your demands were disregarded any more today, you couldn’t be held liable for the tantrum that would ensue. Just as you were about to tell Sylus as much, you felt fingers wrap around your ankle and pull as the original mercenary made a last ditch effort to incapacitate you. 

Pathetic. The shoddy attempt was on par with a gnat buzzing near your ear. 

A menacing sound emanated from Sylus, his hands slipping away from your cheeks to presumably deal with the floundering assailant. You didn’t give him the chance, though. 

With the dagger still gripped tight in your hand, you spun around and plunged the blade into the exposed bit of forearm you spied through his armor. The fingers on your leg spasmed, and the mercenary’s scream of pain fed into an inherently darker part of you, bringing you a twisted sense of satisfaction. 

You stared down the filth beneath you for a few extra seconds before standing straight again, your nose still scrunched up in distaste when you turned back to Sylus. There was a disturbing degree of admiration twinkling in his eyes when the corner of his mouth kicked up into a smirk. 

“Not going to finish the job?” 

Scoffing dismissively, you tucked the mussed strands of your hair that had fallen free from your updo behind your ear. “No. He seemed to enjoy running his mouth earlier, so we’ll see what else he has to say when we interrogate him.” 

Sylus trailed his fingers over the ruffled fabric of your gown, smoothing out the attire as he hummed in understanding. His eyes seemed darker than normal, his pupils swallowing up the crimson hue in the low light of the corridor. His breath tickled your neck as he tipped his head down to speak directly into your ear, “How many mercenaries does it take to answer a couple of questions?” 

Pulling away to glance pointedly at the other three men still prone atop the floor, Sylus cocked a brow at you. You sighed, knowing full well what Khaosi’s Sovereign was implying without needing clarification. 

You had never outright dismissed Sylus’ claims that the two of you were kindred spirits. In fact, the more time the two of you spent together, the more you had started to believe it. Your ambitions were largely the same, and while you were shackled by the Empire’s affinity for diplomacy, you had always found Sylus’ methods of taking immediate action far more appealing. 

How did the saying go again? It was better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission? Something along those lines. 

With that thought in mind, your eyes fell to the three whimpering, bleeding assailants. That dark part of you– still thrumming with excitement in the wake of taking action yourself– grew larger when you smiled softly and answered Sylus. 

“Just one.” 

—

While you had been exhausted after the court meeting earlier, the events that followed had all but ensured that you were wide awake now. Adrenaline still coursed through your veins as you stared at your reflection in your bathroom mirror, your body and mind on high alert whether you wanted them to be or not. 

Zynlai’s botched attempt at having you kidnapped was certainly to blame. But what had really fired you up was the verbal lashing you’d dealt everyone afterwards. 

The General was incompetent. You had drilled into her harshly about not being aware of her own subordinates. After all, the stolen uniforms had to have come from somewhere. Upon receiving word that the bodies of four senior guards had been uncovered in the garden outside, you hadn’t bothered to hold back. 

The only reason she could still call herself the General of the Imperial Guard was because there wasn’t any time to find a replacement.

The Strategist was a woefully ignorant megalomaniac. All her talk of guard rotations being doubled and kingdom-wide camera access increasing security was just that– talk. She loved the sound of her own voice– so much so that she had the gall to speak over you during your own court meetings. If looks could kill, the venomous way you had scowled at her the entire time you berated her would have stopped her heart on the spot. 

No one in that hallway had been spared from your ire after you and Sylus called for reinforcements. Not even the Minister, who had been too busy fighting the urge to vomit at the sight of all the blood to truly take your words to heart. 

Leaving the lot of them to clean up the mess and deal with the one remaining mercenary had been a kindness on your part, honestly. The General had tried to send a guard escort with you– likely in some feeble attempt to appear deserving of her role– but you had outright refused. It was unlikely that anything else was going to happen tonight. If it did, then the guards would only get in the way when you lost the remnants of your temper on whatever poor soul dared to cross your path. 

Besides… Sylus was with you. Between the two of you, any other threats lurking in the shadows would become smears on the walls if they appeared. 

It had been roughly an hour since entering the sanctity of your bedchamber. In that time, you had cleaned yourself up and changed, only to hide out in your bathroom so you could process things in peace. Sylus was somewhere in the bedroom since he adamantly refused to leave you alone. You knew he was still there, your ears periodically picking up on the sound of him messing with the decor strewn throughout your room. 

Whereas your ladies-in-waiting had a tendency to irritate you when they lingered in your chambers, Sylus’ presence didn’t bother you. You didn’t want to dedicate the brainpower to figuring out why, though. 

As if clairvoyance was a secondary power he possessed, Sylus elected to make himself known at that moment. Two sharp knocks sounded from the other side of the bathroom door, his deep timbre reverberating through you as though there wasn’t a barrier and a handful of feet between the two of you. 

“Are you alive in there? Or did I conveniently overlook an assassin when I checked earlier?” 

You rolled your eyes and sighed, recollecting how thorough Sylus had been while checking your room for any intruders earlier. He hadn’t let you move from the doorway until every nook and cranny had been scrutinized, and even once everything had been deemed safe, he had tried bullying his way into coming into the bathroom with you. 

That was where you drew the line. 

The smile in the Sovereign’s voice was evident when he coyly added, “If you have any desire to keep this door intact, I’m going to need a verbal response, Your Majesty.”

Good lord, he could be pushy. You narrowed your eyes at your own reflection as you bit out, “I’m alive and very much annoyed. Why are you rushing me?” 

“It’s so boring in here without you,” he groaned theatrically, embodying the spirit of a petulant child. “Plus, I seem to recall you agreeing to get checked for injuries after washing up. You’re not stalling, are you?” 

Nostrils flaring as you huffed, you abandoned your post at the bathroom counter and stormed over to the door, yanking the handle down with so much force that it was a wonder it didn’t snap off completely. Sylus’ teasing expression met your irate one, but the amusement on his face faltered when you gestured down at yourself with a wave of your hand. 

“Like I said the last twenty-three times you asked, I’m not injured. You will be if you keep pestering me, though.” 

Instead of slinking away from the door with his tail between his legs like you wanted, Sylus stayed rooted in place as his inquisitive eyes roved down your figure. It was then, you realized, that the Sovereign of Khaosi was seeing a lot more of you than was probably appropriate. 

With your ladies-in-waiting still recovering from the scuffle in the corridor, you had been left to handle your nightly affairs yourself. Your mind had been racing a mile a minute upon returning to your room, so instead of scrutinizing the contents of your wardrobe to pick out something modest like your servants typically would, you’d grabbed whatever felt the softest and absconded into the bathroom without paying attention. 

Good grief… the nightgown you’d procured hardly qualified as clothing. The damn thing was so thin that it was practically see through. The only thing keeping your bare breasts from being on full display was the fabric’s dark coloring. The hem stopped halfway down your thigh, and the neckline– shit. 

“Get out,” you snapped without giving yourself time to reconsider your tone. You grabbed for the handle once again and pulled to slam the door right in Sylus’ face, but he intercepted the move with next to no effort, his palm slapping against the wood to hold it stubbornly open. “Let go. I need to change–” 

He tilted his head to the side with a knowing smirk dancing on his lips, then leaned past the threshold of the bathroom to condescendingly say, “Sorry, Majesty, but you had an entire hour to change and my patience has its limits. If it’s any consolation, I very much approve of your pajama choices.”

“I don’t give a damn what you approve of,” you hissed through your teeth, applying more pressure to the door for emphasis. “Now back up and let me– hey!” 

Sylus pushed the door open completely before stepping into the bathroom, his strong forearm snaking its way around your waist to haul you backwards towards the counter. Your feet dug into the floor as you obstinately fought against his hold even though it was pointless. To him, your struggling was such a nonexistent obstacle that it was almost laughable, and he further validated that belief when you heard him chuckle under his breath. 

Bastard.

“I could have you executed for this, you know?” 

Even though there was some truth to the words, you had no intention of actually seeing the threat through. Sylus must have known it too, because he shot you a toe-curling smile that made your cheeks heat up against your will, and you pursed your lips as you mentally chastised yourself. He twisted to the side, pressing your tailbone into the bathroom counter before planting his hands on your shoulders to keep you from sprinting past him. 

“I’ll be the first to admit that your court would sooner set me on fire before giving me the benefit of the doubt,” he mused coyly. His fingers trailed across the exposed skin of your shoulder and lifted the strap of your nightgown back into place from where it had fallen. Then he braced his hands on the countertop, caging you between his thick arms as he lowered his head and purred in your ear, “But I think they would make an exception this once. Killing your fiancé for ensuring that you weren’t injured in a kidnapping attempt? Even they might agree that it’s… excessive.” 

A chill you failed to stifle snuck its way up your spine as he spoke, the soft rumble of his voice making the heat in your cheeks intensify and– much to your dismay– prompted you to clench your thighs together involuntarily.

Shit– focus! You frantically blinked away the lust-fueled fog threatening to cloud your judgement, then cleared your throat. “No one is here– there’s no point pretending.”

“Who said anything about pretending?”

The genuine way he uttered the words compelled your eyes to seek out his. Your shocked expression met Sylus’, and the corner of his mouth kicked up to reveal something of a half smirk. 

“What?” he teased softly, leaning back and dragging his palms along the counter until they slipped away from the cool marble. When his large hands appeared against your hips, you couldn’t bring yourself to swat them aside. “Is it so hard to believe that I actually care?” 

Though your mouth opened to reply, you were unable to voice any of the jumbled thoughts whipping through your brain. Despite plenty of evidence to suggest that Sylus did in fact care about you, it dawned on you that you had refrained from allowing yourself to accept it all as the truth out of fear. 

Fear of being disappointed in the long run. Fear of having your feelings used against you. Fear that somehow, blindly trusting him in that way would come back to bite you. After denying your true feelings for so long, you felt nothing but confusion and uncertainty… but there was also a tiny ember of hope growing stronger and brighter inside you. 

Sylus seemed to realize that you were too busy wracking your brain to bother responding. He stole his opportunity then, his grip on your body growing firmer for a moment before he hoisted you up onto the bathroom counter.   

His hands lingered against your waist after that, his fingers searing your skin through the sheer material of your nightgown. There was nothing you could say to ease his concern– and honestly, you could hardly blame him for hovering– so you kept your mouth obediently shut and opted to let him fret over you. 

He didn’t move to check you for injuries, though. His broad figure remained rooted in front of you as he toyed with your pajamas, idly dragging his thumb over the lace adorning the hem. The contrast between your lighter clothes and The Khaosi Sovereign's dark, imposing uniform was stark, the red gems adorning the left side of his chest glinting against the overhead lighting. Before you realized what you were doing, you reached out to run your fingers over the stones, and Sylus’ gaze slowly– meticulously– lifted to meet your own. 

You found a combination of relief, affection, and pure longing swimming in those crimson pools. It dawned on you then that at some point these last few weeks, you’d developed a bit of a soft spot for them.  

The severity of the situation wasn’t lost on you. As mediocre as those assassins had been, it was still sobering to be reminded that even with your coronation right around the corner, there were plenty of people who wanted you dead. Enemies lurked within every corner of the palace, some of them looking you square in the face every day and hiding their true feelings behind refined, diplomatic smiles. Going along with Sylus’ plan involving the betrothal had only exacerbated opposition towards you.

But despite the danger and the risks, you knew you would make the same choice again if you were given the option. You would never admit it to his face, but he was the closest thing to an equal you’d ever known. He was prideful and condescending. Powerful, unyielding, and infuriatingly charming. 

You could be those things, too. You were those things. The snakes lurking in the grass meant that you couldn’t afford to not be calculating and ruthless, and Khaosi’s Sovereign understood that. 

With adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you smiled up at him. The thrill you’d been able to experience since meeting him was worth anything. You would kill hundreds– no, thousands of assassins who tried to get in the way of your plans. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that you would tear down the very fabric of space and time to keep Sylus with you if it meant furthering your goals. 

You were greedy, and ever the perceptive man he was, Sylus took note of your desires remarkably quickly. 

The heat of his palms contrasted dramatically with your cool, bare legs as he slid his hands down your thighs. His eyes never wavered from yours as he nudged your knees apart, his measured breaths turning deeper and coming faster as he stepped between them. The new position forced you to crane your neck back to hold his stare, and the sight of him towering over you with his hands commandingly gripping your legs was more than enough to make your heart beat violently against your chest. 

The moonlight spilling through the skylight bathed him in a soft, luminescent glow, creating a halo-like appearance over his silvery hair. Between that, his chest rising and falling desperately, and his fingers steadily digging into the undersides of your knees, you knew you had reached your limit. He was holding it together as well as he could– perhaps for your benefit– but you knew Sylus was at the end of his rope, too. 

God, you couldn’t fucking take it anymore. 

You reached out to curl your fingers into the red aiguillettes dangling from his uniform, and Sylus sharp inhale was cut off when you yanked him into you with all your might. 

His reaction was instantaneous. The second your lips clashed together, Sylus was groaning roughly as one of his hands moved to splay against your back, pressing you against his chest while simultaneously pulling you forward by your knee. A bottle of soap clattered to the floor when you moved to brazenly lock your legs around his waist, forcing him closer so you could throw your arms around his neck. 

Arching into him, you shamelessly rocked your hips forward and hungrily swallowed up the pleasure-induced moan that slipped up his throat. Even with the entirety of your weight hauling him forward, Sylus managed to stay upright and crept the hand on your leg higher, his nails scraping deliciously against your outer thigh until they reached the thin, lacey underwear beneath your nightgown. 

Maybe it was fate that had made you pick such a scandalous sleep-set tonight… or maybe it just had to do with how your ladies-in-waiting were too busy overseeing the clean-up in the conference room to pick out something more modest for you. You had never been more grateful to be away from them, because the sound of approval Sylus made when he felt the racy attire sent a bolt of arousal straight through you. 

Breaking away from your lips, Sylus nudged the side of your jaw with his nose and continued peppering heated kisses there. “Cute panties,” came his low, sultry remark. 

Dizzy in the wake of kissing for so long, you could only pant hotly as he bullied your head aside to turn his attention to your neck. His teeth nipped teasingly at your pulse, which was then followed by his lips pressing soothing kisses against the same spot. He continued that dance for what seemed like forever– biting and kissing over, and over, and over– until your ability to speak returned to you. 

“Bedroom,” you practically growled. “Now.” 

You expected for him to pull you along with him, or maybe even carry you since you were already wrapped around him, but evidently tonight was one for surprises, because Sylus didn’t do either of those things. A split second after demanding things move to your chambers, Sylus let go of you to guide your legs off of his hips. He planted his hands on your waist, hauled you up, and tossed you over his shoulder like it was easier than breathing. He chuckled darkly when you gasped, patting the backs of your bare thighs with one hand while the other held you securely in place. 

“So bossy,” he mused as he started walking. “Her Majesty would do well to remember that I’m her fiancé, not one of her servants.” 

Even though you couldn’t see his face as he carried you, Sylus’ tone conveyed well enough that he was smiling. You huffed and were about to land a perfectly placed pinch against his backside since it was all you could see, but then you felt his teeth graze over the side of the leg closest to his head, and instead of nipping playfully like he had done with your neck, he bit you. 

Hard. 

You yelped at the same time he laughed, the sound throaty and guttural. “I suppose it’s fine,” he nuzzled his head against your leg, striding into your familiar bedchamber before a wisp of his power manifested to shut the bathroom door. “Command me all you like, sweetie. I like it.” 

His words had you flushing from head to toe, and you were left breathless as he deposited you straight onto the bed in one quick motion. You bounced against the mattress a few times which left your nightgown in a crumpled heap around your waist, and Sylus wasted no time as he climbed on top of you, his larger frame settling between your legs as his hands returned to your underwear to grip the lacey material more desperately this time. 

You could feel his strength as he tugged experimentally at the tiny piece of clothing, and you audibly swallowed. Undeterred, Sylus sat back on his haunches to trail his eyes down your body, his predatory gaze burning through you and prompting you to involuntarily squeeze your legs together on either side of him. 

Cocking his head to the side with a smirk, Sylus observed the movement and let go of your clothes to trail his hands along your thighs before planting them over your knees. He gingerly pressed one leg down into the mattress before hooking the other over his shoulder, and you damn near passed out when he shuddered with blatant arousal and fixed you with a devilish look.

Jesus Christ. 

“The Empire might implode on itself if it knew their Empress wore something like this to bed.” His timbre bordered on dangerous as his hands returned to your panties, tugging on the elastic waistband before letting it snap back against your skin. “Is it special?” 

It took you a second to realize he had asked you a question. Once it registered, you blinked and shook your head, “Not really… it was just too hot for anything else.”

Humming in understanding, Sylus hooked his fingers under the material once more, smirking as he mused, “You could have ordered the weather be changed with a snap of your fingers, no? Isn’t everything about the Empire engineered by projections and illusions?” 

Frowning, you rolled your eyes and snapped, “So? In case you forgot, there were more important things to worry about tonight. Balmy weather tends to take a backseat to assassination attempts.” 

“Fair enough…” he relented, that damn smirk still playing on his lips when he pinned you with a questioning look that you understood all too well. “Then I take it you won’t miss these?” 

Now that you knew what kind of effect such risque garments had on him, you were tempted to say yes. Instead you heard yourself say, “No.” 

There was a series of popping sounds as Sylus effortlessly ripped through lace, thread, and elastic alike– his eyes never straying from yours as your underwear was effectively reduced to shreds. For reasons beyond your understanding, the insatiable lust you felt in response to the sight made you whimper. 

Get a grip, you thought. He might be the Sovereign of Khaosi, but you were the Empress dammit. Have some pride! 

Leaning back to survey his work with a satisfied smile, Sylus flicked the remnants of your panties aside, then traced his thumb over your hip bone sensually. He placed a chaste kiss against the side of your leg he still held over his shoulder before his figure started to shrink, his head dipping lower, lower, until he was kneeling between your thighs. 

“You’re the only one I’ll bow to,” he whispered hotly against your core, turning his head to kiss your inner thigh. “You’re the only person I’ll let command me. You’re a vision, sweetie…” Crimson eyes met yours through his lashes as he bestowed a matching kiss against your other leg, and your chest rose sharply when Sylus nipped at the spot toyingly. “And I intend to be the only one who gets to see you like this.” 

Okay… you felt a little bit of pride hearing him say that. God. 

A needy whine tore from your throat at the feeling of Sylus sucking deep, branding marks into your thighs. He took his time with each one– kissing every purple bruise once it took root before trailing his tongue to a new spot– inching his way agonizingly slowly to where you wanted him most. The closer he got to your aching center, the tighter your fingers twisted into the sheets. It was a maddening sort of torture, and you couldn’t help but writhe impatiently beneath him. 

When Sylus finally gave in to your wordless begging, he made sure to keep his gaze pinned to your face as he swiped his tongue up through your folds slowly. Keeping his one hand clamped down on the thigh over his shoulder, he wrapped his other arm around your unrestrained leg to pin that one in place as your back arched up off the mattress, holding you right where he wanted you as he set to work. 

Sylus moved without any hesitation, burying his face into you and obstinately refusing to come up for air– evidently content with the prospect of suffocating. He picked you apart methodically, filing away everything he did that made you moan, tense, and twitch in his brain for later. His firm grip on you never lessened, but he took to stroking the tops of your thighs approvingly whenever you failed to bite back a stuttered cry of his name. 

It was almost embarrassing how quickly you melted into a squirming, pathetic mess under his tongue. Your ability to think had scattered to the wind so completely that you didn’t realize he had released his hold on your leg against the bed– not until you felt one of his fingers slip inside you. Your hands shot down to fist in his hair in a pointless attempt to ground yourself, but when his deep, rumbling chuckle reverberated against your core, you went right back to seeing stars. 

Another finger joined the first not long after, and you felt Sylus smile against you when he angled them upwards, eliciting a desperate gasp that could have very well been mistaken for choking. 

The thumping of your heart was so aggressive that you were certain he could hear it. Without looking away from you or parting from your folds, Sylus smoothly detached your hand from his hair to thread his fingers through yours, setting the joined appendages on the bed beside you. Any concerns about breaking his fingers with the strength of your grip were fleeting. Sylus’ tongue worked you to your peak so skillfully, all you could bring yourself to care about were the sparks dancing behind your eyes. 

Your toes curled, your chest heaved with anticipatory breaths, and your nails dug into the back of his hand as he brought you right to the cusp of bliss– so close that you wanted to throw yourself over the edge without restraint. 

But then Sylus stopped, and your cry of dismay came out sounding like a high-pitched bark. 

“W-Why?” you croaked miserably, blinking up at him as he sat back on his heels and let your shaking legs fall against the mattress. He dragged the back of his hand over his dripping chin, eyes twinkling with a taunting sort of mirth, and the breath you sucked into your lungs was shaky. “I was about to–” 

Sylus pounced forward to capture your lips in a heated kiss, silencing your protests before you could voice them. You could taste yourself on his tongue as it languidly swept through your mouth, and when his fingers dipped back into you at a much shallower depth, he swallowed up your needy moan. It was teasing– inconsistent– and ultimately just enough to keep you painfully teetering on the edge of release. 

“I know,” he groaned against your lips, scissoring his fingers inside of you until your eyes rolled back in your head. 

Then he went and pulled them out again, and you huffed impatiently. 

“What the hell are–” his soaked fingers plunged into your mouth, and your eyes went comically wide as he laved them over your tongue. 

“Because,” he growled, pupils dilating as he studied the way you latched your lips around the digits. The thin, red ring of his irises was nearly absent, and he wet his lips hungrily. “I need to feel you tonight.”

Sylus withdrew his fingers from your mouth so you could reply, but you couldn’t bring yourself to form a coherent sentence. The undiluted passion driving his actions thus far left you bewildered. It wasn’t that Sylus was ever reserved when it came to expressing his affection for you, but this… 

It felt almost real. The two of you had been putting on an act this whole time, doing your best to seem like a legitimate engaged couple. When you were in public with him, it was performative. Now, though, he was displaying a frenzied kind of yearning. 

Maybe the thwarted assassination had gotten to him more than you’d originally thought. 

You blinked up at him in wonder a few times before nodding, and it was only then that Sylus deigned to proceed. His knuckles ghosted over your stomach as he gently lifted your nightgown higher to remove it entirely, leaving a trail of goosebumps along your skin and prompting your nipples to harden beneath the silky fabric. You pushed yourself up by your elbows to give him the space he needed to haul the gown over your head, and once it had been discarded to the floor, you tugged at his collar to pull him into an abrupt kiss that he eagerly reciprocated. 

Your hand slipped lower to blindly undo the buttons of his shirt, pushing the clasps through their holes one by one until the sides fell freely apart. Sylus made no move to take it off himself– still too enthralled by how you were moving your lips against his– so you hurriedly pushed his coat off of his broad shoulders to get to your target. You parted from the kiss with a teasing nip at his bottom lip and pulled back to watch him shrug the uniform off the remainder of the way, your mouth watering when he finally set to removing his shirt and his muscles rolled and flexed in the process. 

“God,” you mumbled, tracing your fingers over the perfectly sculpted ridges of his torso. “You’re unreal.” 

His short huff of laughter was largely humorless, but you still saw the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, you could tell that Sylus loved being praised almost as much as you did. 

“You’re one to talk,” he purred seductively, taking it upon himself to begin undoing his belt. The metal buckle clinked promisingly as he slid the leather from around his waist, and he let his eyes rove down the full length of your bare body. “Tempting me every second of every day. Cutting down assassins and then barking orders, all without a hair out of place. If I could bring the vermin back to life and kill them all over again, I would.” 

You bit back a smile as he swiftly unbuttoned his pants and kicked them off so they could join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. “That seems like overkill for two mediocre assassins.” 

“Maybe,” you had to lean back against the mattress as Sylus crawled towards you– a possessive sort of darkness spreading across his features– and you soon found yourself caged between his arms. He ducked his head to trace his lips over your collarbone, and his voice was a low growl when he said, “But I’d like to make them beg for your forgiveness on their knees– right on top of the mess they made. I’d make them grovel on broken glass, and once you were satisfied, I’d take my time putting them out of their misery.” 

When Sylus latched his lips over your throat to suck another branding mark into your skin, your eyes fluttered shut around a sigh. “Again: isn’t that a bit much? They weren’t even impressive.”

“It’s not nearly enough.”

Weaving your arm between your bodies, you dipped your fingers under the waistband of his briefs to wrap your hand around him. Sylus dropped his forehead against your shoulder and panted softly, his hand finding its way to your waist to squeeze imploringly when you gave him a testing stroke. His typical stoic demeanor dissipated as a choked moan crept up the back of his throat, and while it was barely loud enough to hear, you were convinced that it was one of the best sounds you’d ever heard in your life. 

Sylus’ earlier words came back to you at that moment. Command me all you like, sweetie. Eager to reinforce the fact that you were the Empress and emboldened by his obvious pleasure, you dragged your thumb over the oozing tip of his length– and when he shuddered and hissed through his teeth, you seized your opportunity to switch places with him. 

As aroused as he was, you knew the only reason Sylus relented when you shoved at his shoulder and pushed him against the mattress was because he let you. The heady flush stretching from his face all the way down his chest was too attractive to put into words, and knowing that you were the reason for it brought a saccharine smile to your lips. Sylus watched you through hooded eyes as you slowly and seductively hooked your fingers into the waistband of his briefs, then dragged the last bit of clothing down his long, toned legs. 

Clambering over him with a shameless amount of excitement, you settled on top of him with your thighs on either side of his hips. You lowered yourself into his lap– intentionally holding back from sinking onto his cock for now– and placed your hands on his shoulders for leverage. Sylus let out a shaky sigh when you rolled your hips, dragging your soaked core up and down his length with torturous control, and his fingers dug into your waist hard enough that you knew they’d leave bruises. 

Sylus’ breathing turned ragged and labored, his eyes fluttering shut for the briefest of moments before snapping open again. It was as though he was at war with himself– torn between caving to the pleasure you offered or holding back to take in every heavenly second of it. His gaze was everywhere; on your face, then on your breasts, then glued to where the two of you were almost connected. 

Cursing under his breath, Sylus slid his hands up to your ribs before dragging them down to stroke your thighs, evidently unable to decide where he wanted to touch you the most. “Sweetie…” 

The nickname was a warning and a plea all at once. With a smile, you leaned in to plant a chaste peck against the tip of his nose and reached down, wrapping one hand around his length before raising yourself up to line him up with your wet, waiting folds. His nails scraped lightly against the backs of your thighs as he held you steady, watching unblinkingly as the blunt head of his cock crept its way into your core. 

Sylus groaned and narrowed his eyes at the feeling of you enveloping him. Despite all the work he’d put into getting you warmed up, you still found yourself whimpering at the stretch, and your grip on his shoulder tightened as you breathed through the discomfort. You made it roughly halfway before rising back up again, almost letting him escape you entirely before sinking down a little further than before. 

Large, warm hands stroked at your thighs soothingly, letting you take your time and set your own pace. “That’s it. You’re doing great, darling. You’re almost there.” 

His encouragement drove you to bite off a tad more than you could chew, you would admit. The breath you’d sucked down got caught in your throat when– much like ripping off a bandaid– you let yourself take in the rest of his length in one quick motion. Sylus made a noise deep in his chest– something halfway between a groan and a sigh– and let his head fall back against the headboard with a heavy thunk. 

“Fuck–” 

For a few seconds afterwards, the two of you could only pant hotly together as you got acclimated. Then without waiting for Sylus to pick his head up, you returned both of your hands to his shoulders and rolled your hips forward. He grunted, his fingers digging into your thighs again, and finally lifted his neck to stare at you with quite possibly the most sinful expression you’d ever seen. 

His kiss-swollen lips were parted in awe, the flush coloring his cheeks had darkened, and the look in his eyes was equal parts demanding and bewildered. 

Looping your arms around his neck, you took the initiative and set a steady pace, letting Sylus pull you into him so he could plant his lips on yours. It was a different kiss than the ones from before– more intimate and patient as the two of you basked in shared bliss. Once he felt you relax around him, however, Sylus bucked his hips up without warning, and you gasped into his mouth. 

His lips curled into a smile against yours, pulling away to lock eyes with you as his strong arms took to guiding you up and down his cock. 

From that point on, there was nothing other than the sound of heavy breathing and lewd squelches filling the room. All of his teasing from earlier meant that in just a few short minutes, that searing coil in the pit of your stomach had roared back to life. Sylus grunted when he felt you tighten around him, snaking one of his hands between your bodies to rub the pad of his thumb over your clit. 

It felt like you had no control over yourself as you threw your head back, your pace turning sloppy and desperate as the twining sensations spread molten heat throughout your body. When Sylus leaned forward to latch his lips around one of your nipples and roll it between his teeth, your legs started shaking violently, the mounting pleasure threatening to topple you over. 

“That’s it,” his husky voice registered and damn near sent you over the edge. Mouthing his way up to your bared throat, Sylus planted a wet, noisy kiss against your pulse before sealing your fate with his next request. “Come on, Your Majesty. Come for me.” 

Your cry of his name bounced off the walls of the room as you came undone in his lap. The remaining vestiges of your strength evaporated, your legs giving out completely and sending you careening forward against Sylus’ chest with your walls frantically pulsing around his cock. 

“There you go,” he whispered into the crook of your neck, rubbing circles against your back as you twitched bonelessly in his arms. “Good girl.”

Fuck. 

His praise shot through you like an electric current and settled straight between your legs. You clenched around him involuntarily, your hips jolting forward weakly and dragging a satisfied chuckle from him that rumbled against you. 

Sylus’ hands traveled lower to cup your backside– lifting you higher so his solid length dragged torturously slowly along your sensitive walls– then unexpectedly let go. The sudden lack of support meant that you dropped back down onto his cock abruptly, and your ensuing whine was muffled against his chest. 

He laughed again, evidently amused by your spent state. “Are all heirs to the Empire’s throne denied praise so much during training that they develop an affinity for hearing it? Your reactions are almost endearing.” 

Smug asshole… 

Mustering up all the leg strength you could, you half-lifted and half-pulled yourself upright so you could glare down at him. His eyes twinkled with mischief as you forced a performative pout to your face, “If you’re so curious, maybe you can go find out for yourself. There’s still time to call off the engagement.” 

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, the amusement vanishing from his expression instantly. “That’s not even remotely funny.” 

Humming pensively, the corner of your mouth twitched up into a self-satisfied smirk. “Why? Surely you must be curious… I can’t be the only one with suitors throwing themselves at my feet begging to marry me.” 

“None of them can give you what I can,” he fired back instantly, his fingers twitching into your hips harder. 

As flat as his voice was, Sylus’ desperation was obvious. Although desperate wasn’t exactly the right word… perturbed, maybe? Put-off that you were treating your betrothal to him so flippantly? Did he truly care that much about the arrangement? You didn’t mean a word of your teasing of course, but he didn’t need to know that yet. For the time being, you were enjoying his discontent an unhealthy amount. 

“And what is it you think you can give me, pray tell?” Cocking your head to the side, you pinched his chin to angle his face up at yours. You didn’t bother to crane your neck down and instead met his heated stare from your higher vantage point– as though he were merely an afterthought you looked down on. “Your reputation is terrible. Every one of my advisors has said the same thing; call off the engagement. Thus far all you’ve given me is headache after headache.” 

Sylus narrowed his eyes as he reached up to clasp your hand with one of his, keeping his dithering gaze pinned on your face as he trailed his thumb over your knuckles. When he reached the finger that still adorned the Erythrostone ring, he caressed it pointedly and used the opportunity to press it more firmly in place. 

A silent demand. 

“You know as well as I do that no matter how voracious your appetite is,” he sat up cautiously, growling the words with measured slowness over your lips. “No matter how grand your ambitions are…” his hand left your hip to grasp the back of your neck, pulling you close enough that you could see your own reflection in his eyes. “I’m the only one who can satisfy you in the cosmos.” 

Without any further warning, Sylus’ arms clamped down around you, rolling the two of you over and shoving you onto your back on top of the rumpled sheets. He gripped the underside of one of your thighs to press it backwards into the mattress, then rammed his cock into you so roughly that you found yourself choking on air. 

He pulled back slowly before thrusting forward again– hard and deep enough that you felt him in your fucking throat– and when your mouth fell open around a guttural moan, Sylus’ hand appeared under your jaw. You were completely dazed when he leaned forward to capture your lips in a brutal, demanding kiss that left you utterly breathless. The softness of his mouth was replaced by the sharpness of his teeth when he bit down on your bottom lip, and then he punched his hips forward to give you one hard, punishing thrust that struck you so deep that you saw stars. 

“Tell me you have no intention of calling off the engagement.” Sylus pulled back to look down at your fucked-out face following the demand, and you met his imploring gaze through your lashes. 

Any lingering urges to tease or mislead him had long since evaporated. Beyond knowing that marrying him was the only way for you to rule the Empire without any resistance, you knew deep in your heart that Sylus was right. He was the only one who could satisfy you. He was the only one with power or connections worth having. He was the only one whose presence at your side could guarantee your every wish be fulfilled. 

Apart from that, he was the only one you could imagine doing this with, and god– was he phenomenal at it. 

Your voice sounded airy when you finally deigned to answer him. “It’s unbecoming of a ruler to care so much about childish things…” 

Sylus’ jaw twitched, and he reiterated his request by letting go of your cheeks to grip your other thigh, spreading you open further before setting into a brutal pace that had the tip of his cock hitting the deepest parts of you with unwavering precision. Your spine arched off the bed as you choked on whimpering moans, still so sensitive from before that the pleasure-induced heat building in your gut felt overwhelming. 

You were fairly certain you went cross-eyed, because when Sylus leaned down again so his face was mere inches from yours, you saw two of him. 

“Tell me,” he growled desperately, his hot, panted breaths fanning across your cheeks as he hammered into you without restraint. “Tell me you’ll still marry me. Tell me you won’t call it off.” 

He punctuated the end of his sentence with another blinding thrust, then ground into you hard enough that the stimulation against your clit made you clench your teeth. 

God– how was it possible for something to feel so good that it hurt?

“I– hng–” you gasped as Sylus’ fingers found your overstimulated clit, sending a shockwave through your body that had you clenching around him. He didn’t do anything else after placing them there, but you weren’t sure if calling his restraint merciful was appropriate. In a breathless rush, you whined, “I won’t call it off.”

Sylus closed the distance to bury his face in the crook of your neck, mouthing wetly at your thundering pulse before echoing, “You won’t call it off.” His warm breath tickled your skin when he sighed roughly in approval, and then you felt as he trailed his tongue up the column of your throat to trace the shell of your ear. “What else?” 

“I–” a sharp gasp tore from your throat as the Sovereign's previously still fingers began to move. It would barely be enough under normal circumstances, but seeing as you were still overly sensitive, the gentle brush of his fingertips had stars dancing in the corners of your eyes. 

“What else?” Sylus repeated the question a second time. He drew the lobe of your ear between his teeth, teasing the soft bit of skin with the tip of his tongue at the same time the pressure against your clit intensified. “Tell me, little Empress. You know what I want to hear, so say it.” 

Sylus pulled back slowly before thrusting forward once again, hard and deep enough that he practically expelled the words from your throat with the force of his hips. “I’ll marry you!” you cried brainlessly. “I will– I won’t call it off, I’ll marry you. Please, Sylus–”

“I know, I know,” he cooed affectionately, his tone so at odds with the rough, blinding way he pounded into you. “You don’t have to beg. Go on then, Your Majesty. Do you think you can give me one more?”

As if on command, the internal dam your pleasure had been mounting behind cracked. Waves of ecstasy crashed over you, your tight, raspy cries fueling something within Sylus and making him groan as his eyes rolled closed. His fingers fell away from your hypersensitive nub so he could plant his hands on either side of your quaking hips, granting him the leverage he needed to feed himself into you over and over and over again– your pulsing walls seemingly sucking him deeper and deeper. 

Something between a growl and a moan slipped from Slylus’ lips, his rhythm stuttering and slowing as you clamped down around him. A telling warmth bloomed deep within you at the same time you heard him groan, “Fuck…” 

Time seemed to crawl to a stop as Sylus finally stilled over you. Both of your chests rose and fell in tandem, and when the stars dancing behind your eyes finally cleared, you were met with the sight of silvery strands of hair mere inches from your face. Sylus’ head hung heavy between his shoulders– the likes of which were covered in a pretty, heady flush that stretched up his neck and along his cheeks. 

Almost in a trance, you reached up to wrap your trembling arms around the nape of his neck. A quiet, throaty sound escaped the Sovereign when you tugged him down towards you, but he didn’t fight you. Still sheathed inside you, Sylus willingly draped himself over your prone form with his chin nestled in the crook of your shoulder, a muffled chuckle reaching your ears as he got settled. 

“So needy,” his low voice rumbled against the skin of your throat, taunting you by echoing your words from earlier back at you. “I thought it was unbecoming of a ruler to care about such childish things.” 

“Hmph…” It went against every ounce of training you’d received during your youth, but since Sylus couldn’t see your expression with his face buried in your neck, you stuck out your lower lip in an exaggerated pout. “I’m the Empress. I can do whatever I want.” 

“Oh?” purred Sylus, pulling away to stare down at you with the utmost amusement twinkling in his crimson eyes. “That mentality is becoming of you, Your Majesty. Does this mean you won’t object to me enforcing the decree?” 

The playful lilt to his voice compelled your pout to deepen, a singular brow inching its way up your head when you caught sight of his coy smirk. “That depends… how exactly do you plan on ‘enforcing’ the word of the Empress?” 

Humming thoughtfully, Sylus moved one of his hands from beside you and snuck the appendage lower. First he splayed his fingers against the swell of your hip. Then he started tracing shapes– pressing, almost coaxing– until a soft whimper sounded from your hoarse throat. Pleased with the sound, he murmured, “I can think of a few ways. Where others are concerned, the possibilities are endless. Where you’re concerned, on the other hand…” 

Dexterous fingers danced over your hip to skim along your inner thigh, and Sylus’ eyes seemed to flash red for a moment when your breathing hitched in your throat. “What– hng– what about me?”

“I don’t know… do you think I can persuade you to keep being selfish? Your every desire is mine to fulfill, Majesty. You only have to ask.”

As the Empress, being selfish wasn’t a concept you’d ever thought to act on. The safety of the Empire– no, the entire cosmos– fell on your shoulders. Your decisions could end lives, tilt political balances, and start wars in extreme cases. All your life had amounted to doing what was best for the Empire. It was why you’d found yourself betrothed to Sylus in the first place, and why now you were being told that annulling the arrangement was for the best. 

What you wanted had never mattered. Until you’d met Sylus, at least. 

And if letting Sylus cater to your demands meant more of this, then…

On cue, the Sovereign twitched his hips forward, his still-hard cock reminding you that it was still nestled deep in your core. “Going once,” he drawled sensually. “Going twice…” 

“I suppose it’s only natural that I let my future husband spoil me,” you mused, taking immediate note of the wicked gleam of approval in Sylus’ eyes. Evidently he was a big fan of your word choice. 

“That it is. As natural as breathing, in fact.” In a flash, he had recaptured your mouth with his, seemingly trying to kiss the very breath from your lungs in-between biting and licking at your lips. 

Tomorrow, you were certain you’d be back at square one with your advisors. The Strategist would likely keep bleating like a goat– insisting that you call off your marriage to Sylus for the sake of appearances. The General would no doubt bombard you with the very information you had demanded from her: information on Zynlai’s partnership with Rogray. War with the cavorting rats was inevitable, and there was no guarantee that Sylus wasn’t somehow involved in their scheming– underhanded or otherwise. 

Duty would still call come morning, presumably in the worst of ways. The Empire would insist that you and Khaosi’s Sovereign were enemies, and Khaosi would await orders from the very man hovering over you. Tomorrow the two of you would have to return to marshalling your armies, and to maintaining the careful fiction of rivalry that protected you from your own court’s ire. 

But tonight, Sylus was stealing your breath with dizzying, toe-curling kisses, and just for tonight, you were entirely content to let him.