#queen reader

Slash.

Your blade cuts through flesh like a knife through wet parchment. The soldier barely has time to gasp before crumpling at your feet, eyes wide in shock as the life drains from them. You don’t stop to watch them fall. Another comes at you, sword raised in a desperate arc, but it’s slow. Clumsy. Predictable.

A flick of your wrist, and your steel pierces their throat.

The battlefield reeks of smoke, sweat, and the sharp metallic tang of fresh blood. The cries of the dying mix with the clash of steel. The sky above is thick with storm clouds, swirling dark and furious as if the heavens themselves bear witness to this slaughter.

And beside you, he fights.

Jungkook moves like a wraith through the carnage, every strike precise, every motion an extension of his unwavering devotion. His sword is slick with the blood of your enemies, his armor streaked with crimson, but his expression remains unreadable. He never falters. Never hesitates. If you turn, he is there. If you advance, he follows. He is as much a part of your being as the dark and endless power that flows beneath your skin.

And the battle is over before it truly begins.

The last of the opposing army collapses under the weight of your might. Those still standing are stripped of their weapons forced to their knees in the mud. Their leaders are dragged forward, their bodies shaking in fear. The field is silent now, save for the ragged breathing of the survivors and the occasional pained groan of the wounded who still cling to life.

Victory is yours.

It had been inevitable the moment your secret was exposed. Only your inner court knew the truth of what you were. Someone had let the secret slip. Someone had turned the kingdom against you. Whispers of the Queen’s unnatural longevity, of her insatiable hunger, of the power lurking in her veins were well spread now.

At first, they had dismissed it as a myth. But then the whispers turned to fear. And fear breeds rebellion.

So they rose against you, gathering armies under banners of righteousness. They spun tales of salvation, of freeing the land from the “monster” who sat upon the throne.

And now, they kneel. Trembling and waiting for judgment.

Jungkook stands at your side, as he always does. The blood-splattered sword still clutched in his hand, his breathing steady despite the massacre. His hair is damp with sweat, dark strands sticking to his forehead, but his posture remains unshaken.

And even now, with bodies strewn across the battlefield, with the scent of death thick in the air, he looks at you as if you are a goddess.

The captured traitors kneel before you, their wrists bound and heads bowed in fear. They know what is coming. Some weep. Some pray to whatever gods they believe in. None will be heard.

“Please have mercy,” one dares to whisper, voice hoarse.

Mercy? You smile cruelly. “Let this serve as a lesson.”

With a tilt of your head, Jungkook moves. And one by one, the betrayers fall beneath his blade.

His movements are precise, methodical. There is no hesitation, no wasted motion. A sword raised and then a clean, effortless beheading. Blood spills into the soil, pooling at your feet. He does not flinch, does not falter. He has done this before. He will do it again.

Your most loyal knight. A perfect executioner.

But still, you watch him closely. His hands are steady. His gaze never wavers. But would they tremble if he knew you were watching him the way he watches them?

When the last head rolls, silence falls over the battlefield. Your remaining army stands at attention, waiting. The air is heavy, thick with expectation.

Jungkook turns to you then, falling to one knee. His sword rests at your feet, and then his dark eyes flicker upwards to meet yours.

You notice his hands twitch at his sides. Always ready. Always waiting.

A thought takes root in your mind, one that has lingered for far too long. You tilt your head, voice low, teasing.

"Tell me, my knight. Does your devotion extend beyond the battlefield?"

Jungkook does not hesitate.

He bows his head, breathes the words like an oath.

“My Queen, I am yours.”

The air in the palace is thick with the scent of burning incense curling in slow tendrils toward the vaulted ceiling. Somewhere beyond these walls, the echoes of victory can be heard, laughter spilling from drunken lips, the rhythmic pounding of drums, the distant sound of celebration as your court feasts in your honor.

Yet here, within the throne room, there is only silence.

You sit upon your throne, fingers tracing absent patterns against the cool metal of your crown. It is a symbol of power and dominance, showcasing the centuries you have ruled. But at this moment, it is nothing more than cold weight against your skin.

Victory should be satisfying. It should be absolute. And yet… something lingers. Something unfinished.

You know what it is.

With a flick of your wrist, you summon him. The guards bow, disappearing into the halls to retrieve your knight.

Jungkook.

Your most devoted, your most trusted. And yet, the one who has unsettled something within you for longer than you care to admit.

The wait is not long. It never is with him.

He enters without hesitation. His steps are disciplined each movement precise and controlled. He bows low, but his eyes never leave you.

His armor gleams under the dim candlelight, polished as if to erase the evidence of battle. Yet traces remain. Stubborn stains on his gauntlets, dark smudges along the edges of his breastplate, the last remnants of war clinging to him like a shadow that refuses to fade.

There is no fear in his gaze. No hesitation. No uncertainty.

He stands before you as he always has, as if he has always known you would call for him.

His devotion is unquestionable.

But as you watch him, as you take in the quiet intensity of his stare, the way his hands remain at his sides yet never truly still… you wonder if he even knws the depth of his own obedience.

You rise from your throne, slow and deliberate. The faint clink of your jewelry is the only sound as you step forward, circling him like a predator sizing up prey.

Jungkook does not move. His posture remains impeccable, his shoulders squared, and his chin lifted not in defiance but in unwavering submission. His expression is unreadable, but you know him well enough to sense what lingers beneath the surface.

Tension. Restraint. A quiet anticipation that vibrates in the air between you.

You test him. Fingers grazing his jaw, tilting his chin up just enough to force his gaze to yours. A lesser man would flinch, would shy away from your touch, uncertain whether it is a gift or a warning.

Jungkook does neither.

He remains perfectly still, his breath measured and controlled. But you feel the unspoken war raging beneath his calm exterior. His hunger is not for power, not for freedom.

No, it is something far more primal. Far more dangerous.

You wonder if he has spent centuries waiting for this moment. Waiting for you to look at him, not as a knight, not as a tool, but as something more.

He has given you everything including his blade, his loyalty, his blood.

But is that truly all he desires?

You do not grant him what he seeks so easily. That would be too simple. Too merciful. Instead, you test him. A test with words.

“Would you give me anything I desire, Jungkook?”

His answer comes without hesitation. “Yes, my Queen.”

His answer is steady and certain. But is it instinct, or something deeper?

You step closer, close enough that the candlelight flickers in his dark eyes. His breath remains even, his shoulders squared, but you know him too well. You see the slightest tension in his throat, the way his fingers flex before stilling at his sides.

“You have given me everything,” you murmur. “Your loyalty. Your strength. But do you give it freely?”

For the first time, there is a pause. So brief, so fleeting, it might have gone unnoticed if you weren’t watching him so intently.

Then, reverently, he answers.

“What is freedom to a man who has only ever lived for you?”

Satisfaction hums through you at his reply. It is the answer you expected, the answer you demanded, and yet it still pleases you to hear it fall from his lips.

Without another word, you turn, stepping past him, knowing he will follow.

He does.

Your steps are slow, deliberate, echoing through the dimly lit corridors as you lead him toward your chambers. You do not look back, yet you feel his presence. There is no hesitation in his footsteps, no question of where this night will lead.

When you finally reach your doors, you pause only to push them open, stepping inside without waiting. He follows as if drawn by an unseen force, as if this is inevitable.

The heavy doors shut behind him, the iron lock sliding into place with a finality that seems to settle between you both.

Jungkook stands before you, shoulders squared, gaze steady. No surprise lingers on his face, no uncertainty. If anything, there is something else in his dark eyes, something like quiet acceptance.

Almost as if he had been waiting for this. Expecting it.

You tilt your head, watching him, searching for any sign of fear. You find none. Lifting a hand, you trace your fingers along the collar of his armor, feeling the warm metal beneath your touch. Then, softer now, more dangerous, you ask,

"Will you give me your body, your blood? Would you let me consume you?"

His breath shudders, but his answer does not waver.

"Yes. Anything."

That’s all it takes before you pull him toward you, baring your fangs.

Your hands move with urgency, pushing aside the heavy layers of armor that shield him. The breastplate clatters to the ground, followed by the straps and clasps of his pauldrons. Beneath the steel, his tunic clings to his skin, damp with the heat of battle, the lingering scent of blood still fresh on him.

Jungkook does not resist. He never does.

His chest rises and falls, controlled but uneven, as you tilt his head to the side, exposing the column of his throat. The skin there is marred with old scars, remnants of wars fought in your name. Yet, he offers it freely, tilting into your touch, showing is full submission.

And then, you strike.

Your teeth sink into his neck, piercing skin and flesh, and a gasp wrenches from his throat. His body tenses, then melts into you as though he was made for this. Made for you.

You feed slowly at first, savoring the way he trembles, the shudder that rolls through his frame. He does not pull away. If anything, he leans into it, his hands gripping your waist, fingers pressing into you as if to anchor himself.

The act is unmistakably intimate. Erotic.

His breaths come in shallow pants, growing heavier as you drink from him, your fangs buried deep in his flesh. The wet, sinful sound of blood sliding over your tongue fills the space between you. You feel the way his pulse flutters beneath your lips, how his body tenses when you drink a little faster.

The hunger in you stirs, insatiable. The blood seeps from the wound, trailing down his throat, and you press your tongue against it, lapping at the warm liquid before soothing the punctures with a slow, deliberate drag.

A shudder wracks his body, a breathless sound spilling from his lips, raw and wanting.

And still he does not pull away.

By now, his arousal is undeniable, straining against the confines of his pants. The evidence of his desire presses against the fabric, aching nd desperate, but he says nothing. He wouldn’t dare.

Your hand drifts downward, fingers trailing along his abdomen before slipping lower, cupping the rigid length of him through the thick material. Even through the fabric, he is burning, his cock heavy and throbbing in your palm.

Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath, his body going rigid for a moment before he exhales, shuddering. His hips twitch ever so slightly, barely perceptible but you notice.

His need is palpable, almost suffocating in the way he holds himself back, trembling beneath your touch, yet refusing to beg. He wants more. more friction, more of you but he knows he has no right to ask for it.

So he takes what you give him, whimpering when you press your palm harder against him, dragging slow, deliberate strokes over his length. The friction is both a relief and a torment, not nearly enough to satisfy, yet too much to bear in silence.

A strangled moan catches in his throat, and his fingers tighten around your waist. He wonders how you haven’t reprimanded him for touching you, how you allow his hands to rest upon you so freely. The thought only makes his restraint waver further.

He wants to explore. To let his hands roam, to feel the curves of your body beneath his fingers, to worship you in ways he has only imagined for centuries. But he does not dare.

So he remains still, trembling, waiting, hoping.

You are pleased with his reactions, the way he trembles under your touch yet holds himself back, waiting for your command.

So you decide to be merciful just a little.

“Undress,” you say, voice smooth and commanding. “Lay yourself bare for me.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. His hands move with practiced efficiency, unfastening the ties of his tunic and pulling it over his head in one swift motion. The fabric falls to the floor, revealing the expanse of his chest, skin scattered withth scars from healed wounds.

His fingers work at the laces of his pants next, undoing them swiftly. There is no shame in his movements, only purpose. He is shedding more than just clothing; he is offering himself to you, wholly, completely.

The moment he tugs down his undergarments, his cock springs free, hard and eager, flushed at the tip.

Your eyes trail down, taking in the sight of him. The length is impressive, thick enough to stretch, with prominent veins running along the shaft. A bead of precum gathers at the tip, glistening under the candlelight.

It almost makes your mouth water.

Jungkook lies himself down on the massive bed, his body tense with anticipation. His chest rises and falls with slow, controlled breaths, but you can feel the heat radiating from him, the barely restrained need coursing through his veins. He is waiting for you to take what is yours.

But you are not so kind as to grant him relief so easily.

You climb atop him, your body pressing flush against his, your weight a deliberate reminder of his submission. His cock twitches against his abdomen, but you ignore it, focusing instead on the way his lips part ever so slightly as you lean in.

Then you kiss him hard.

Jungkook gasps into your mouth, and you take advantage, deepening the kiss, your tongue claiming him in a way he has only ever dreamed of. He tastes of devotion, of longing, and you drink him in, reveling in the way he trembles beneath you.

Your fangs descend, sharp and eager, and you sink them into his lower lip, puncturing the soft flesh. A sharp inhale—his body stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away. Warm, coppery blood floods your mouth, rich and intoxicating, and you moan as you suck at the wound, savoring every drop.

Jungkook’s hands hover beside you, uncertain. He has fantasized about this moment for centuries, imagined all the ways he might worship you if ever given the chance. And yet now, with you consuming him, he doesn’t know what to do.

But one thing he knows for certain: he must not defy you.

Jungkook waits patiently, his hands hovering just shy of your body as if he dares not touch without permission. You revel in his obedience, but you are not yet satisfied. You lean in, pressing your lips to his ear, whispering dark, sinful things, watching for the cracks in his restraint.

His breath hitches, his fingers twitch at his sides, but he does not break.

Not yet.

His hands finally come to rest against your body, ghosting over the fine fabric of your royal robes. The heavy garment is embroidered with intricate gold patterns, the deep crimson fabric flowing like blood with every movement. It drapes over your shoulders, cinched at the waist with delicate chains, leaving only hints of skin visible. It feels like a barrier he is not yet worthy of removing.

You pull away from the kiss at last, leaving him breathless. His lips are swollen, slick with the remnants of his own blood. His head spins slightly, whether from the loss of blood or the sheer intensity of your presence, he does not know.

You sit up, bringing him with you, guiding him to move as you wish. His hands find their place on your body, worshipful, mapping the curves and dips of your form as if committing you to memory.

Then, he hesitates slightlyhis gaze flickering up to meet yours, seeking permission.

You offer him the barest nod.

Emboldened, his hands cup your breasts through the fabric, molding around them, squeezing slightly. His thumbs graze over your nipples, teasing through the layers of silk and embroidery, but you offer him no further mercy.

You watch as frustration flickers in his darkened gaze. He wants to feel your skin beneath his hands, to see you bared before him. But he knows better than to demand.

He will have to earn it.

Your hand trails downward, fingers wrapping around the thick length of his cock, the heat of him burning against your palm. His breath stutters as you stroke him slowly, teasingly, letting your fingers glide over the flushed tip where precum beads and drips onto your skin.

You spread the slickness down his shaft, your grip firm but agonizingly measured. He groans, hips twitching into your touch, though he restrains himself from outright thrusting into your palm.

"Already so desperate," you murmur, watching the way his muscles tense beneath you. "And I’ve barely even touched you."

A moan escapes him when you finally lower your head, lips brushing over the sensitive tip before you take him into your mouth in one smooth motion.

His fingers clutch at the sheets before moving to the back of your head, hesitant at first, then bolder when you don’t stop him. His grip tightens as you suck harder, tongue tracing every vein, every ridge.

Your pace quickens, the obscene sounds of your mouth working him over filling the chamber. His control begins to slip, hiip stuttering forward, his need overcoming his restraint. He starts to fuck into your mouth, his groans raw, breath ragged.

But just as he nears the edge, just as his thighs tremble and his grip turns bruising, you pull away.

His cock slips from your lips with a wet pop, slick and throbbing, denied the release he so desperately craves.

Jungkook lets out a frustrated, needy whine, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes are dazed, his lips parted, his expression utterly wrecked.

You simply smile, dragging a finger across your swollen lips before tilting your head.

“Are you pouting, my knight?” you tease. “How unseemly.”

You lean back once again, taking your time, unfastening each clasp, each layer of fabric that conceals your body from his desperate gaze. Your fingers move with deliberate slowness, teasing the anticipation that already has him trembling.

The first thing to go is the heavy outer robe, the rich fabric slipping down your shoulders, pooling at your feet like discarded silk. Next, the delicate material covering your torso, barely shielding the bare skin beneath. You tug it down, exposing the soft swell of your breasts, but you not fully, just enough to torment him, to watch the way his cock twitches in response.

His breathing grows uneven, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, fighting the urge to reach for you.

“You’re holding back,” you observe, amused.

Jungkook swallows hard, his jaw tightening. “I have to.”

You hum in approval and continue, letting each remaining piece of clothing slide down your form, revealing inch by inch of bare skin. His eyes darken, pupils blown wide with hunger.

And then, as you shift slightly on the bed, his gaze catches on something else. The faint, glistening stain beneath you, the proof of your arousal soaking into the sheets.

His breath hitches.

You smirk, tilting your head. “See what you do to me?”

His cock twitches again, the need in his expression almost unbearable. But he still does not touch. He waits because you have not given him permission.

You spread your legs for him, your fingers trailing downward, parting your slick folds with a slow, deliberate motion. The tiny pink pearl at the center of your arousal glistens in the dim candlelight, and Jungkook gasps, his hands flexing at his sides as if physically restraining himself from reaching for you.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his voice hoarse with longing. “May I…?” He hesitates, swallowing. “Do I have the luxury of tasting you, my Queen?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Not tonight.”

A flicker of disappointment crosses his features, but he does not argue. He wouldn’t dare.

“This is your reward,” you remind him, tilting his chin up so he meets your gaze. “For fighting so fearlessly beside me. For all those centuries of devotion.”

His breath shudders as he exhales, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him as if to ground himself.You spread yourself wider, letting him see every glistening inch of what he’s denied. “Tonight, you take. And I will give.”

You lift yourself onto his lap, your thighs framing his hips as you settle against him. The moment your soaked folds press against his length, Jungkook lets out a strained moan, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. But you don’t grant him what he craves.

Instead, you roll your hips, dragging your slick heat along his length, coating him in your arousal. The friction is intoxicating, a slow torment that has you both gasping. His cock twitches beneath you, so hard it aches, while your pwn need pulses, demanding more.

He groans, fingers digging into the sheets as if holding himself back. “Please…” he rasps, voice wrecked with desperation.

You shush him, pressing a single finger to his lips. “Not yet.”

He exhales shakily, his thighs tensing beneath you. He is so close already, you can feel it in the way his body trembles, in the way his cock jerks against your clit with every glide. He’s terrified he’ll spill before you even take him inside but that’s exactly what you want.

You halt your movements abruptly, lifting yourself just enough to deny him the pleasure he was chasing. His breath hitches, a frustrated whimper slipping past his lips, but he knows better than to protest.

Placing both hands on his chest, you push him backward until his back meets the mattress, his body fully beneath yours. You grip the base of his cock, aligning his tip with your dripping entrance, teasing the head against your slick folds. His breath stutters, muscles taut with anticipation.

And then, slowly, you sink onto him.

The stretch is exquisite, a delicious burn that has you both moaning in unison. He fills you so perfectly, your walls clenching around him as you take him in inch by inch. His fingers twitch at his sides, his restraint admirable, but you can see the way his throat bobs, the way his eyes glaze over as pleasure overtakes him.

Leaning back, you brace your hands against his strong thighs, lifting yourself slightly before rolling your hips. Jungkook lets out a strangled groan, his hands fisting the sheets beside him. His eyes flutter shut, lost in the pleasure coursing through his body.

But that will not do.

“Open them,” you command, your voice firm.

He obeys instantly, dark eyes locking onto yours. They’re wild with hunger, with devotion.

Your nails dig into his thighs, sharp enough to break skin, a thin trail of blood beading at the surface. But if he feels the pain, he does not show it. His pleasure is too consuming, too overpowering. And so, he gives himself to you fully, offering his blood, sweat and tears to you like he always has.

His vision turns hazy  pleasure clouding his thoughts, but his eyes never stray from you. He watches, entranced, as your breasts bounce with every movement, your body moving above him like something divine, yet here you are, claiming him, taking everything he has to give.

He feels it building, the telltale tightening in his abdomen, the coil about to snap. His breath stutters, his hands twitch where they grip the sheets, but before he can even manage to stammer a warning, his release overtakes him.

His body shudders violently beneath you, pleasure ripping through him as his cum spills inside you, hot and thick, painting your walls in spurts. The sensation is blinding, overwhelming, pulling a guttural moan from deep in his chest.

But you do not stop.

You keep moving, keep bouncing on him, greedily milking every last drop, your walls clenching around his still-sensitive cock. His whimpers are near-pained, overstimulated, but he does not beg you to stop. he wouldn’t dare.

Not when he belongs to you.

The heat of you around him is unbearable, intoxicating. Even as he shudders from the aftermath of his release, his cock twitches, hardening again inside you. The warmth of your walls, the way you squeeze around him, milking every last drop—it’s too much, yet not enough.

He is lost in you, in the way your slick coats him, in the sensation of being fully sheathed inside your tight, wet heat. It is maddening, the way you move, the way your body clenches down on him like you never want to let him go.

His hands tremble as they grip your waist, not to control but to ground himself to remind himself that this moment is real, that you are truly allowing him to have this, even if only for tonight.

The pleasure builds faster this time, his cock throbbing inside you, desperate for another release. He can feel your walls fluttering around him, your own peak drawing near.

“My Queen,” he gasps, voice wrecked, “I’m close.”

Your pace does not falter. Instead, you ride him harder, faster, pushing both of you over the edge.

He spills inside you again just as you come, your walls clenching down around him in a vice-like grip. His moans mix with yours, your cries of pleasure perfectly in sync. The feeling is euphoric, all-consuming, leaving him breathless beneath you.

He has never felt more complete, more worshipful. Even in pleasure, he is nothing but yours.

You pull yourself off him with deliberate slowness, letting his length slip free from your warmth, leaving him raw and sensitive. He barely has time to catch his breath before your mouth is on him again, lips wrapping around his overstimulated cock.

A sharp gasp leaves him, body twitching violently at the sudden contact. The pleasure is unbearable now, his sensitivity turning every flick of your tongue into something dangerously close to pain. But he does not push you away.

His queen, his goddess, the only being he will ever worship, is indulging in him, in his body, in his weakness. He exists for you to ruin.

His hands fist the sheets, muscles locked as his body fights against the onslaught of sensation. He groans, voice breaking, and you hum around him, sending vibrations through his length. He knows he won’t last, can’t last under your relentless hunger.

His hips jerk involuntarily, his entire body shuddering as his release tears through him again. This one is painful, forced from his exhausted body, his cock barely able to keep up with your immortal stamina.

A strangled moan escapes him as he spills into your mouth, the last remnants of his pleasure drawn from him until he has nothing left to give. His vision is blurred, his limbs trembling.

And then you kiss him.

His breath catches as your tongue slides into his mouth, the taste of his own seed spreading across his tongue. A cruel reminder of how utterly you have taken him, consumed him, claimed him.

You straddle him, hand at his throat, pressing down.

His body reacts instantly, his muscles coiling beneath your touch, a sharp inhale drawn between parted lips. But it is not fear that darkens his gaze. It is something else, something raw and consuming. His pulse flutters against your palm, quick and eager, a silent plea without words.

Beneath you, he is utterly vulnerable.

Your grip tightens. He exhales shakily, a strangled sound caught in his throat. You can feel him growing hard again, his body responding to the cruel intimacy of your touch. He doesn’t fight it. He doesn’t fight you.

His devotion is absolute. Even as the air leaves his lungs, even as his vision begins to blur at the edges.

You lean in, your lips grazing his ear as you whisper softly, like a lover’s confession, yet laced with something far deadlier.

"I know what you did."

A shudder runs through him. His breath catches. His fingers twitch against the sheets, as if resisting the urge to hold onto you. To anchor himself.

But he does not beg.

He does not deny it.

Instead, he smiles.

As if this was always meant to be. As if this is what he wants.

Your grip tightens further, pressing deep into the delicate skin of his throat, cutting off the last remnants of air. His body jerks beneath you, muscles tightening, chest heaving in a desperate, instinctual attempt to pull in breath. His lips part in a soundless gasp, but no words come.

His eyes remain locked on yours. Glassy and devoted.

Even as the fight leaves his body.

Even as his pulse weakens beneath your fingers, fading into nothing.

Even as his body finally stills, lips parted, frozen in the ghost of his final worship.

You end him.

Jungkook is immortal but only because you willed it so. He has always been untouchable to the rest of the world, his life tethered to your mercy alone. And now, as you stare down at his lifeless body beneath you, the realization slams into you, cold and final, like a blade driven straight through your chest.

He let you kill him.

He never betrayed you to defeat you. That was never his goal. No, his crime had always been one of devotion, not treachery. He forced your hand because there was no other way. He knew you would never let a traitor live.

A final act of love, masked as betrayal.

And even now, in death, his body betrays his yearning. His arousal lingers, stiff and undeniable, a grotesque echo of his devotion. His final gift to you.

For centuries, he had yearned to be more than just your knight. He had watched you take countless lovers, while he stood guard outside your door, hearing the sounds of pleasure that would never be his. It had gutted him, wounded him more than any battlefield ever could.

You had gifted him immortality as a token of his loyalty, his unwavering service. But in doing so, you had condemned him to a fate crueler than death. To live on forever, knowing he would never be anything more than a weapon at your side. Knowing that no matter how many lifetimes passed, he would never be the one you reached for.

So he did the only thing he could.

He betrayed you.

Because he knew that you would never let a traitor live.

The room is silent. The air is thick with the scent of blood.

Jungkook's body lies beneath you, utterly still, his skin cooling beneath your touch. You should feel satisfied. You should feel victorious.

Instead, there is only a hollowness, a slow, creeping thing curling inside you like smoke.

You stare at him, the man who had knelt before you in unwavering devotion, the warrior who had spilled blood in your name, the fool who had loved you enough to orchestrate his own demise. He had yearned for this, had wanted to be consumed by you in every way possible. And you had granted him his wish.

Then why does it feel as if something vital has slipped through your fingers?

Your fangs remain stained with his blood, the taste of him still thick on your tongue. You should have savored it more. Should have recognized what it meant when his hands had trembled against your skin, not with fear, but with desperate reverence.

Perhaps this had been his final lesson to you.

Perhaps his betrayal had not been a betrayal at all, but the greatest act of devotion.

You sit in the silence, staring at the body of the only one who had ever truly belonged to you. And for the first time in centuries, you wonder…

Had you ever belonged to him, too?

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The snowfall thickened as you and your army pressed forward, each flake swirling violently in the harsh winter wind. The castle loomed ahead, an ominous silhouette against the storm-darkened sky. The usual sounds of distant life—guards pacing the walls, soldiers calling to one another—were absent. It was too quiet. The kind of quiet that meant nothing but trouble.

Your grip tightened around your reins as your horse trudged through the thickening snow. The cold bit at your exposed skin, but you barely noticed. Your mind was elsewhere—on the battle ahead, on the blood that would soon stain the ground, and on the weight of everything that had led you to this moment.

Eros had left after Mel’s death, disappearing back into the forest without hesitation. You had known he would go eventually; he was a wild creature, not meant to stay by your side forever. But saying goodbye still felt like losing a part of yourself. He had outgrown the life you could give him, needing space to hunt, to roam free. It was selfish to ask him to stay, even if every part of you wanted to. As he vanished into the trees, you whispered a silent promise to yourself—no matter how far he roamed, he would always be your best friend.

Jinx had worked tirelessly, gathering the materials she needed to craft her explosives. The stolen Noxian bombs from the camp had been a gift from the gods, cutting down her work significantly. By the time you reached the castle, every cart and satchel was packed with carefully assembled explosives, ready to tear through stone and steel. She had been ecstatic, humming to herself as she secured the last of them, her fingers twitching with excitement. But beneath the energy, you could see the tension in her shoulders—the understanding that this wasn’t just another game.

As you rode on, Sevika kept glancing back at you. She never spoke a word, but her eyes said enough. She was waiting for you to change your mind, to turn back before it was too late. The unspoken question lingered in the air between you: Are you sure about this?

But you had already made your choice.

There was no turning back now. Not when you were this close. Not when Ambessa’s reign of terror had already taken so much.

The finish line was within reach, and you would see this through to the end—no matter the cost.

The wind howled as you urged your horse forward, your army pressing on behind you. The castle’s towering walls loomed closer, their stone surfaces slick with ice, dark banners bearing Ambessa’s crest barely visible through the thick snowfall. The silence was suffocating. There were no watchmen shouting from the battlements, no soldiers patrolling the gates—only the eerie stillness of a battlefield waiting to be claimed.

Sevika pulled her horse alongside yours, her brows furrowed in suspicion. “This doesn’t sit right,” she muttered, scanning the area. “Where are the guards?”

Your fingers twitched against your sword’s hilt. “Maybe they know we’re coming,” you murmured. “Maybe they want us to walk right in.”

Jinx snorted from behind you. “Oh, that’d be a dream come true,” she said, patting the satchel of explosives slung over her shoulder. “Wouldn’t mind blowing up a welcome party.”

But the lack of resistance only made the tension worse. The castle was a fortress—there should have been some kind of defense, some sign that Ambessa’s forces were still inside. But instead, the gates stood eerily open, the path leading inward dark and foreboding.

Your army halted at the castle’s entrance. The soldiers murmured amongst themselves, shifting uneasily in their saddles. You turned to them, your voice firm. “We don’t know what we’re walking into. Stay together, stay alert. If this is a trap, we’ll spring it on them first.”

Sevika nodded in approval before dismounting, her hand on the hilt of her sword as she took the first step forward. You followed, leading your forces through the towering gates and into the castle’s courtyard.

The air was thick with the scent of burning wood and steel. There were signs of a struggle—blood smeared across the stone, shattered weapons left abandoned—but no bodies.

“Where the hell is everyone?” one of the soldiers muttered.

Jinx scanned the area, her eyes sharp. “They were here not long ago.” She knelt down, dragging her fingers through the fresh blood pooled along the cracks in the stone. “Somebody cleaned up, but not well enough.”

You exchanged a glance with Sevika, your unease growing. This wasn’t just an empty castle. This was bait.

A sudden gust of wind slammed the main doors shut behind you.

Then, the first arrow came flying.

It struck one of your soldiers in the throat before he could even react, his body crumpling to the ground.

“AMBUSH!” Sevika roared, drawing her sword as Noxian soldiers emerged from the shadows—hidden behind pillars, archways, and the castle’s high walls. They had been waiting for you.

You barely had time to draw your own weapon before the battlefield exploded into chaos. The clash of steel rang through the air as your soldiers met the enemy head-on. Jinx had already disappeared into the fray, likely working her way toward a vantage point.

A Noxian warrior lunged at you, his blade slicing through the air. You dodged, countering with a swift strike that cut through his armor, sending him stumbling backward. Another came from your left, but before he could reach you, Sevika drove her sword through his chest, shoving him aside like dead weight.

“Stick to the plan!” you shouted over the chaos. “Jinx—get those bombs in place!”

Jinx’s laughter echoed from above. “Already on it, sweetheart!”

Explosions rocked the castle’s walls, flames licking up the stone as the first of Jinx’s bombs went off. The Noxians faltered, momentarily thrown off by the sudden blasts.

You took the opening, cutting through another soldier before pushing forward. You needed to get inside—to find Ambessa and end this once and for all.

Sevika was already at your side, fighting off enemies as you carved a path toward the castle’s main hall. The entrance loomed ahead, firelight flickering behind its iron doors.

And then, through the chaos, you saw her.

Ambessa stood at the top of the stairs, watching the battle unfold with a calculating gaze. She didn’t flinch at the carnage, didn’t even seem surprised that you had made it this far.

She smirked.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it,” she called out.

Rage boiled in your chest.

This was it.

The final battle had begun.

You tightened your grip on your sword, your breath coming in sharp bursts as the battlefield raged around you. Ambessa stood at the top of the stairs like a queen surveying her domain, clad in thick Noxian armor that gleamed even through the thick snowfall. Her smirk was infuriating, her confidence unshaken despite the chaos unfolding beneath her feet.

Sevika took a step closer to you, her blade dripping with fresh blood. “She’s waiting for us,” she muttered, voice low but edged with urgency. “She wants us to come to her.”

“She’ll get what she wants,” you said through clenched teeth.

Jinx’s explosions continued to erupt around the courtyard, throwing Noxian soldiers off balance and creating openings for your forces. The tide of battle swayed back and forth like a deadly dance, but you didn’t care about the rest of it now. The only thing that mattered was the woman standing above you.

You moved first.

Breaking into a sprint, you carved through the battlefield, cutting down anyone foolish enough to stand in your way. Sevika was right behind you, taking out soldiers with heavy, brutal swings. Jinx’s laughter echoed somewhere in the background, but it was drowned out by the roar of the battle and the pounding of your heartbeat.

Ambessa waited patiently, her hands resting on the hilt of her massive sword, her expression almost amused. It wasn’t until you were nearly at the steps that she finally moved.

With a single step forward, she drew her blade, its enormous size making your own weapon seem almost insignificant. “Come then,” she said, her voice carrying over the battlefield. “Let’s see if you’ve earned the right to stand against me.”

You didn’t hesitate.

The clash of metal rang through the courtyard as your sword met hers. The sheer force of her strike nearly sent you to your knees, but you held firm, pushing back with everything you had. Sparks flew as you struggled against her strength, her smirk never faltering.

She shoved you back with terrifying ease. “You’re just as beautiful as your mother,” she mused, rolling her shoulders as if this was nothing more than a warm-up. “Let’s see if you die like her.”

You barely had time to regain your footing before she lunged again. This time, you dodged, barely avoiding the downward arc of her blade as it slammed into the stone, cracking it beneath her sheer power.

Sevika took her chance, attacking from the side with a heavy swing. Ambessa turned, deflecting the blow with ease, her movements precise and controlled. She pivoted, driving her elbow into Sevika’s ribs before kicking her away with a brutal force that sent her sprawling.

You gritted your teeth, slashing at her exposed side, but she twisted at the last second, your blade only grazing her armor.

Ambessa’s counterattack came fast. She swung at you with devastating strength, and though you managed to block, the impact sent shockwaves through your arms.

She was toying with you.

Your anger flared, and you surged forward again, feinting left before striking at her right. This time, your blade found its mark, slicing into the exposed flesh of her upper arm. Blood stained the snow, and for the first time, Ambessa’s smirk faded.

But instead of anger, there was something else in her eyes.

Amusement.

“Good,” she said, rolling her shoulder. “Very good.”

Then she struck harder.

Her next blow knocked you off your feet, your sword flying from your grasp. You hit the ground hard, your breath torn from your lungs. Above you, Ambessa raised her blade, prepared to end it in one clean stroke.

“NO!”

A blur of movement. Jinx.

The explosion came a second later.

Ambessa barely had time to react before the bomb detonated at her feet, sending her staggering backward in a cloud of fire and smoke. The blast rocked the ground, and for a moment, everything was disoriented—the ringing in your ears drowning out the battle, the thick smoke clouding your vision.

A hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you up.

“Come on, we’re not done yet!” Jinx shouted, eyes wild with adrenaline.

You shook off the daze, your gaze snapping back to Ambessa as she emerged from the smoke. She was injured now, her armor scorched, blood dripping from a fresh wound on her temple. But she was still standing.

Still smiling.

“Is that all you have?” she taunted, wiping blood from her face.

Your fingers curled around your sword as you picked it back up.

This wasn’t over.

Not yet.

You looked over at Jinx, who was still gripping your wrist tightly, her fingers digging into your skin as if she could physically hold you back. Her wide blue eyes were filled with something rare—concern.

“Check on Sevika. I got this,” you said, voice firm despite the exhaustion weighing down your limbs.

Jinx, for once, didn’t listen. She shook her head, her grip tightening. “No. You don’t,” she insisted, her voice unusually serious.

“I said go get Sevika, Jinx!” you barked, yanking your wrist free from her grasp. Jinx flinched, her jaw tightening as she stared at you for a moment longer. Then, with a frustrated scoff, she turned and sprinted toward where Sevika had fallen.

With Jinx gone, your attention snapped back to Ambessa. She was watching you, that ever-present smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. But you wanted to wipe it off her face.

"You just keep coming back…" you said, taking a step forward. "Just like your daughter."

The smirk twitched.

“I made sure she died,” you continued, voice dripping with venom. “I have her head as proof.”

For the first time since the fight began, something shifted in Ambessa. The arrogance, the amusement—it all drained from her face in an instant, replaced by something darker.

Rage.

Her eyes burned as her fingers clenched around the hilt of her sword. Then, without hesitation, she let out a roar and charged.

You barely had time to react before she was upon you, her massive blade swinging down with deadly precision. You threw yourself to the side, the steel missing you by inches as it slammed into the ground, carving deep into the frozen earth.

Ambessa didn’t let up. She ripped her sword free, pivoting on her heel and coming at you again with terrifying speed. You ducked just in time, feeling the blade whistle past your head. Snow kicked up around you as you rolled out of the way, scrambling to your feet.

But she was relentless.

She swung again, this time aiming for your midsection. You barely managed to parry, but the sheer force of her attack sent you skidding backward. The impact rattled through your arms, nearly numbing your hands.

"You should have stayed dead," Ambessa growled, her voice thick with fury.

You spat onto the bloodstained snow, tightening your grip on your weapon.

"I’ll never die," you shot back.

Ambessa let out another furious roar and lunged again.

This time, you were ready.

Another explosion rocked the battlefield, this one more violent than the last. The force of it sent shockwaves through the ground, shaking the very foundation beneath your feet. The platform you stood on cracked with a sickening snap before it completely gave way.

You barely had time to react before you were plummeting, the world tilting as you fell. The impact was brutal. You hit the frozen ground with bone-rattling force, the breath ripped from your lungs as sharp pain erupted through your side. You knew instantly—something was broken. A few ribs, at least.

Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself to move, but before you could even try to stand, a heavy boot came crashing down onto your chest, pinning you in place. A sharp, searing pain shot through your ribs, and you let out a hiss, glaring up at the towering figure above you.

Ambessa.

She loomed over you, her expression carved from stone, but her eyes burned with pure, unfiltered rage. Her breathing was heavy, controlled, but you could see the storm raging beneath. You had hit a nerve.

“Don’t take it too harshly,” you wheezed, forcing a smirk despite the pain clawing at your body. “It was an eye for an eye.”

Ambessa’s jaw tightened. Her grip on her sword flexed as she gazed down at you. “That mouth of yours is what caused this death.”

With that, she lifted her blade, aiming to bring it down in one swift, final strike.

Before the sword could fall, a blur of movement slammed into her, knocking her clean off of you. The force sent her stumbling backward, her weapon clattering to the ground.

Vander.

He tackled her with all his strength, his broad form colliding with hers like a wrecking ball. They hit the ground hard, rolling through the snow in a brutal tangle of limbs and fists. Vander wasted no time. His fists crashed against Ambessa’s face, his knuckles stained red as he fought with raw, unyielding fury.

You coughed, each breath stabbing through your ribs like a blade, but you forced yourself to move. Your hands trembled as you pushed yourself up, your vision swimming as you clutched your aching side. You needed to act—now.

With a groan of pain, you reached for your bow, wincing as the movement sent fresh waves of agony through your body. Every second felt like an eternity as you fumbled to pull an arrow from your bag. Your fingers wrapped around the shaft, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you forced yourself to focus.

Ambessa had managed to shove Vander off, her strength unmatched even as blood dripped from her split lip. She was reaching for her sword.

You couldn’t let that happen.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you raised your bow, the strain in your ribs nearly unbearable. You pulled back the string, your arms shaking as you lined up your shot. The pain blurred your vision, but you ignored it.

And then, you let go.

The arrow sliced through the air with deadly precision, striking Ambessa’s arm just as she reached for her blade. She let out a sharp grunt, the force of the impact making her stagger. Blood bloomed against the fabric of her sleeve as she snarled, turning to glare at you with murderous fury.

Ambessa’s growl of pain was low and guttural, her eyes locking onto you with a murderous glare. The arrow had buried itself deep into her upper arm, making her momentarily falter, but she was far from finished. Even wounded, she was still a force to be reckoned with.

Vander took the opening without hesitation. He drove his fist into her jaw with a thunderous crack, sending her reeling backward. But Ambessa was quick—too quick. She twisted with the blow, using its momentum to bring her elbow crashing into Vander’s ribs. He grunted in pain, staggering, but he didn’t go down.

You exhaled sharply, gripping your side as you forced yourself to move. Every step was agony, but you ignored it, notching another arrow despite your shaking hands.

Ambessa snarled, ripping the arrow from her arm with nothing but sheer brute force. Blood dripped from the wound, staining the snow beneath her, but she barely acknowledged it.

“You think this is over?” she spat, her voice rough but unwavering. She flicked the broken arrow to the ground, eyes blazing as she turned back toward you.

You didn’t flinch.

“It ends tonight,” you said, your voice strained but steady.

Ambessa let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Then come, child,” she taunted, raising her fists. “Let’s finish what we started.”

But before you could make a move, another explosion detonated in the distance, shaking the battlefield once more. The sky lit up in a fiery glow as Jinx’s bombs tore through the outer walls of the castle. The shockwave sent ice and debris flying through the air, forcing everyone to brace themselves.

Vander cursed under his breath, shielding his face from the blast, while you instinctively staggered back.

Ambessa, however, didn’t retreat. She charged.

You barely had time to react before she was on you.

Her hand closed around your throat, her grip like iron as she slammed you into the nearest pile of rubble. Pain flared through your back, your vision momentarily blacking out from the impact. You clawed at her wrist, gasping for air as she pressed down harder.

“Your arrogance will be your downfall,” she growled, eyes filled with fury. “Just like your father’s.”

The mention of him sent a fresh surge of rage through you. Gritting your teeth, you reached down, fumbling for the dagger strapped to your hip.

Ambessa saw it too late.

With a desperate lunge, you drove the blade into her side.

She let out a sharp hiss, her grip loosening just enough for you to break free. Gasping, you staggered forward, coughing as you sucked in a painful breath.

Ambessa clutched the wound, but she didn’t fall. If anything, she looked more enraged than before.

Vander stepped between you both, his stance firm. “Enough,” he barked.

But Ambessa wasn’t listening.

She pulled the dagger from her side and tossed it away, cracking her neck as she advanced once more.

You tightened your grip on your bow.

Ambessa lunged.

You barely had time to react as she swung her fist at you, her raw strength forcing you back. Your ribs screamed in protest, but you swallowed the pain, dodging just as her second strike came crashing down. The force of her blows cracked the frozen ground beneath you.

Vander tried to intercept her again, but Ambessa shoved him aside with brutal efficiency, her focus locked solely on you. Ambessa’s shove sent Vander sprawling to the side, his body hitting the ground with a harsh thud. He groaned but didn’t get back up. It was just you and her now.

You barely had time to breathe before she was on you again. Ambessa moved with terrifying speed for someone of her size, her fists swinging with enough force to break bone. You dodged the first hit by a hair’s breadth, the air whistling as it cut past your face, but the second punch slammed into your ribs.

A sickening crack echoed through the battlefield.

You choked on your own breath, pain splintering through your body. Your knees buckled, and you staggered back, clutching your side. Ambessa didn’t give you a moment to recover.

A powerful kick slammed into your stomach, sending you flying backward. You hit the frozen ground hard, skidding across the ice and snow. Blood filled your mouth as you gasped for air, your vision blurring. You tried to push yourself up, but Ambessa was already looming over you, her expression dark and merciless.

“You’ve lost,” she said, her voice like steel.

She raised her foot and stomped down on your chest. Agony erupted through you as you let out a strangled cry. You could feel something shifting painfully inside—another broken rib, maybe more.

Ambessa leaned down, her weight pressing harder on you, making it nearly impossible to breathe. “You thought you could stand against me? You are nothing compared to real warriors. Compared to me.”

Your vision was tunneling. Black spots danced across your sight, and your limbs felt like they were filled with lead.

This was it. You were going to die.

But something inside you refused.

Gritting your teeth, you ignored the searing pain and moved.

With all the strength you had left, you reached down to your belt, fingers wrapping around the handle of a dagger. Before Ambessa could react, you slashed at her calf, cutting deep.

She roared in pain, stumbling back just enough for her foot to lift off your chest. You sucked in a desperate breath and rolled away, pushing yourself to your feet despite the agony wracking your body.

Ambessa’s glare was murderous. She lunged at you again, her arms outstretched to grab you, but you used your smaller size to your advantage. You ducked under her grasp, spinning around her as you grabbed another dagger from your belt.

She turned, swinging wildly, and her fist connected with your cheek.

Stars exploded behind your eyes, and you crashed onto the snow, dazed. The cold seeped into your bones, but you forced yourself to move, to keep fighting.

Ambessa grabbed you by the collar, hauling you up with ease. “Stay down!” she snarled, throwing you against a broken pillar. The impact rattled every part of you, and for a moment, all you could do was cough up blood.

You were losing.

As the pain coursed through your battered body, your vision blurred, and for a brief moment, the battlefield faded away. You weren’t in the middle of a war anymore. You were back in the underground hideout, years ago, standing across from Silco in the dimly lit training room.

He circled you, a wooden sword in hand, his mismatched eyes locked onto yours with that calculating sharpness he always had. You were younger then—still reckless, still learning. And frustrated.

“I can’t do this,” you had muttered, gripping your training blade so tightly your knuckles turned white. Your muscles ached from endless hours of sparring, and your body was covered in bruises from every time he knocked you down. “I’ll never be strong enough.”

Your father had merely tilted his head, unimpressed. “Oh?” He strode forward, swinging his blade, and you barely managed to block it. The force sent you stumbling back, your feet barely steadying in time to avoid falling. “If you believe that, then you’ve already lost.”

You huffed, sweat dripping from your brow. “You’re twice my size.”

He chuckled, amused. “Then stop fighting like you are my size.” Silco lowered his sword slightly and stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “Strength is more than muscle. It’s your mind, your will, your ability to find an opening when all seems lost.” He tapped the side of his head. “The moment you let despair win, you die.”

You swallowed hard, looking away.

But Silco wasn’t finished. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder, making you meet his gaze again. For once, there was no condescension—just certainty. “You are not weak, my rose,” he said, voice low, steady. “You’ve survived things that would have broken most people. You have a fire inside you—one that refuses to die, no matter how many times you fall.” His fingers tightened slightly. “Get up. And fight.”

The memory crashed into you like a wave, and suddenly, you were back in the present. Back in the freezing snow, your body screaming in pain, Ambessa Medarda standing over you, her sword raised for the final strike.

But Your father’s voice still echoed in your head.

"Get up. And fight."

Something inside you snapped.

A sharp, desperate breath filled your lungs, and with the last of your strength, you moved.

And that was all you needed.

Ambessa stalked toward you, her broad shoulders casting a shadow over your broken body. You could barely keep yourself upright, but you tightened your grip on your daggers.

She reached for you—

And you struck.

With a burst of final, desperate strength, you lunged forward, driving one dagger deep into her throat.

Ambessa’s eyes widened.

Her hands shot up to grab you, but you were faster. With a guttural cry, you twisted the blade and plunged the second dagger into the other side of her throat, cutting through muscle and windpipe.

She gasped—a wet, choking sound—as blood gushed from the wounds.

You grabbed the front of her armor, forcing her to look at you as she struggled for breath.

“Look at me as you die, Medarda,” you snarled, your voice shaking with rage and exhaustion.

Ambessa trembled, her hands gripping at the daggers, but it was already over. The strength left her body, and she fell to her knees before finally collapsing into the snow.

Dead.

You swayed on your feet, every part of you screaming in agony. Your hands were covered in her blood. Your chest burned with every breath. But you were still standing.

Barely.

Your legs gave out, and you sank to the ground, panting heavily as the world around you blurred. The battle was still raging in the distance, but for this moment, all you could do was stare at Ambessa’s lifeless body.

You had won.

But at what cost?

The battlefield was eerily silent as you stepped forward, the cold wind biting at your skin as the weight of what had just transpired settled on your shoulders. The once-deafening sounds of clashing steel, war cries, and dying screams had faded into a tense quiet. Snow, now mixed with blood, blanketed the ground beneath your boots as you moved with purpose, your breathing ragged but steady.

Vander groaned as you helped him up, his weight heavy against you. His face was bloodied, his body battered, but he was alive. You guided him toward a piece of rubble and eased him down, making sure he could sit upright. “You good?” you asked, voice hoarse. Vander huffed a breath, wincing but nodding. “I’ll live,” he muttered, offering you a half-smirk despite the pain.

You gave a small nod before turning away, your eyes locking onto the lifeless body of Ambessa Medarda. The once-mighty warlord lay in a pool of crimson, her formidable presence reduced to nothing but a corpse. Her armor was cracked, her sword lay discarded, and the fight that had once burned in her eyes was extinguished.

Stepping over her, you reached down and grasped the heavy metal faceplate that had adorned her helmet. It was dented from battle, smeared with blood—both hers and your own. You gripped it tightly, feeling the weight of it in your palm as you turned toward the castle.

The battle still raged on near the entrance, Noxian soldiers and Zaunites locked in combat. But you didn’t hesitate. With every painful step, you moved forward, fueled by something far greater than pain.

Then, you shouted.

“Your leader is dead!”

Your voice rang out, cutting through the chaos like a blade. It echoed through the battlefield, and slowly—one by one—the fighting ceased. Swords were lowered. Guns were stilled. Breathless soldiers turned to look at you, their eyes wide as the realization set in.

With a final motion, you lifted Ambessa’s armor piece high for all to see—before throwing it down into the middle of the rubble. It landed with a dull clang, a single, undeniable symbol of victory.

The Noxians stared at it. At her crest. At the blood that stained it. Some exchanged uneasy glances. Others stood frozen in disbelief.

And then, one by one, their weapons dropped to the ground.

The war was over.

Your body swayed, unsteady, as the weight of your injuries bore down on you. Every inch of you ached, your ribs screaming in agony with each shallow breath. The world around you blurred, the sounds of victory fading into a distant hum. Your vision darkened at the edges, your legs giving out beneath you.

Just as you were about to collapse, strong arms caught you, preventing you from hitting the bloodstained ground. A familiar grip held you firm, keeping you upright even as your knees buckled. You blinked through the haze, your gaze struggling to focus on the person holding you.

Vi.

Her face was tight with worry, her hands gripping you securely. “I got you,” she murmured, her voice unusually soft.

Caitlyn appeared beside her, quickly slipping an arm around you as well, helping Vi support your weight. Her brows were furrowed, eyes scanning your battered form with concern. “You’re barely standing,” she noted, glancing at Vi before focusing back on you.

Despite the searing pain, you forced yourself to speak. “Is… everyone okay?” Your voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

Vi huffed, shaking her head. “Yeah, but let’s worry about you, okay?” Her tone was light, but you could hear the tension underneath it, the unspoken fear.

You tried to answer, to reassure them, but exhaustion crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your body refused to fight anymore. The world around you tilted, the light dimming as your eyelids grew impossibly heavy.

The last thing you heard was Vi calling your name, Caitlyn tightening her grip.

Then, everything went black.

When you woke up, the scent of fresh linen and burning firewood filled your senses, a stark contrast to the battlefield’s blood and smoke. The air was warm, wrapping around you like a thick blanket, and for the first time in weeks, you felt comfort—not the rough terrain beneath your body, not the cold steel of armor digging into your ribs, but actual comfort. The mattress was plush, the sheets smooth against your skin, and as you shifted slightly, you felt the dull, persistent ache of your broken ribs and the throbbing sting in your head.

Your eyes wandered, taking in the unfamiliar yet elegant surroundings. The room was spacious, finely decorated with heavy curtains, golden candle sconces, and an ornate mirror built into the wall beside you. It was only when you caught your own reflection that reality hit you.

You looked awful.

Scratches marred your skin, a deep gash slit through your eyebrow, and your bottom lip was swollen and split. The bruises painted across your body told stories of the battle you had fought—of every punch, every fall, every blade that had nearly ended you. You sighed, looking away just as the door creaked open.

Jinx strolled in first, her signature smirk in place, followed by Vi, who stood with her arms crossed. Jinx plopped down at the edge of the bed dramatically, kicking her feet up.

“Your majesty,” she teased, grinning.

You exhaled a small laugh, shaking your head. “Where are we?”

Vi leaned against the wall, her expression softer than usual. “A noble offered us this mansion to recover in. It’s yours to use as a temporary home while your castle is being rebuilt.”

Your castle. The weight of it settled on you. Your home—destroyed, burned, reduced to rubble in the war you had just fought. It was a victory, but at what cost?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden realization. “Where’s Sevika?” you demanded, sitting up too quickly, pain flaring through your ribs.

Jinx hesitated, rubbing the back of her neck. “When I threw that bomb… she took a big hit. Honestly, the only thing that kept her from being completely torn apart was her mechanical arm. It blocked most of the impact. She’s pretty messed up, but she’s alive. No limbs missing, if that helps.”

Your heart clenched, but you nodded. “It’s okay. She’s alive. That’s all that matters.” You met Jinx’s gaze, sincerity in your tone. “And you were just trying to protect me. I don’t blame you.”

Jinx gave a small smile, though she still seemed tense.

“Help me up,” you said, gripping the blanket as you prepared yourself for the pain of moving.

Vi immediately stepped forward, her strong hands wrapping around your arms, lifting you gently. You winced as you stood, your ribs protesting every movement, but you forced yourself forward.

The hallways were filled with people—soldiers, townspeople—some familiar, some strangers, but all of them weary from battle. They whispered as you passed, nodding respectfully, their faces a mixture of relief and exhaustion.

Jinx led the way to a quiet room at the end of the hall, pushing open the door to reveal Sevika lying motionless on the bed.

A maid was tending to her, wiping down her face and arms with a damp cloth. Her mechanical arm rested beside her, slightly dented from the explosion. Despite the bruises and bandages covering her body, her breathing was steady, her chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm.

Vi helped you into a chair beside the bed before glancing at the others. “Let’s give them some time.” She signaled to Jinx and the maid, and without argument, they stepped out, closing the door behind them.

Silence settled over the room as you stared at Sevika.

She looked different like this—vulnerable, quiet, no scowl or sharp glare on her face. Just stillness. You reached out, hesitating for a moment before running your fingers through her dark, tangled hair.

“My love,” you whispered.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before resting yours against hers. The warmth of her skin grounded you, reminded you that she was still here, still breathing, still fighting.

“Wake up soon,” you murmured, your fingers brushing through her hair. “I need you.”

You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the moment, in the sound of her soft breaths, in the quiet reassurance that despite everything—you both survived.

Félix: Y/n we've known each other for a while now and want you to know that the moment I laid eyes on you at the ball I wanted to make you mine.

You were really starting to get nervous, and your stomach dropped when he went down on one knee.

Félix: So, Y/n (last name) will you marry me?

Y/n: Felix I'm sorry but I refuse I only see you as a friend, but you will find someone.

Unbeknownst to you something snapped in him, and he wanted to forcefully take you right then and there, but he kept composure and politely excused himself and went back to his carriage. Of course, you felt bad for rejecting Félix, but you never saw him in a romantic way, but you were sure that everything would go back to normal, but it didn't.

Félix didn't come back for a while after that and naturally you worried about him but what happened next was something that changed your image of Félix forever.

You were in your chambers reading but you were interrupted by your frantic staff saying that your Kingdom was under attack, so you rushed outside only to be met by around 5000 armed knights who were led by none other than Félix and when you saw this you were speechless the feeling of betrayal was overwhelming.

Y/n: Félix what is the meaning of this?

Félix: Y/n I tried to make you mine the nice way, but you rejected me so now I have to take matters into my own hands so choose my dear will you marry me and save your Kingdom, or do you refuse and risk getting all of your beloved subjects killed.

Y/n: Fine Félix you win I will marry you.

you hated the smirk of satisfaction on his face but what could you do you can't let these people get hurt it was your job to protect them, so you went with Félix, and on the day of your wedding your subjects decided to try and rescue you and for a second you thought they would win but that was until you saw the smirk on Félix's face and he snapped his fingers and his thousands of guards came in and mercilessly murdered every single one of them your snow white wedding was painted red in under 5 minutes

"don't worry my dear I'm all you need"

Is what he said before he kissed you now your married to the man who causes you the most pain.