As queen, it was your solemn duty to keep your kingdom safe, to maintain order, and to make decisions that balanced diplomacy with strength. Every morning, the sun rising over the castle walls reminded you of your responsibilities, and every evening, the candlelit halls whispered the weight of the crown you bore. But lately, even in the midst of royal protocol, your attention had been distracted. Royal dinners weren’t the same. Conversations were harder to follow. Every time König’s name came up, your stomach twisted—not from fear, exactly, but from the unsettling awareness that he had found a way into your mind.

König, the ruler of the neighboring kingdom, had been audacious in his pursuit. He claimed he would wage wars, topple armies, spill rivers of blood—all for a chance to bend the will of the queen in his favor. And the horrifying truth was, he had kept that promise. The rumors of skirmishes and battlefield victories reached your ears, but none struck as sharply as the knowledge that every conquest had been carried out in your name.

Today, the sun was high and cruel over the castle battlements, and the throne room was heavy with the scent of incense and polished stone. You were reviewing reports, trying to maintain focus, when the doors thundered open. Armor clanged against marble, and the sound of boots echoed through the hall. Your breath caught as König stepped in, his armor glinting in the sunlight. Dark crimson streaked across the metal plates, evidence of the battles he had fought—and won—in your name. His presence was commanding, a reminder that he wielded both power and audacity with equal mastery.

His eyes found yours immediately, piercing, unwavering, and filled with that unnerving mixture of desire and devotion that you had come to recognize all too well. Every instinct in you warned of danger, yet you could feel the pull of his confidence, the magnetic assertion that he was unstoppable—and that part of him, terrifying as it was, was devoted entirely to you.

“Come on, darling… come to me… unless you want more blood spilled in your name, my love,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous murmur that carried across the stone hall. Each word was weighted with implication, the kind that made the hairs on your arms stand on end. He wasn’t just speaking to you—he was reminding you of the consequences of ignoring him, of the deadly reach of his promises, and of the delicate balance you had to maintain as both a ruler and a person.

You straightened in your throne, heart hammering in your chest, aware of every knight, every advisor, watching silently from the shadows. The room felt impossibly still, the sunlight glinting off the blood-streaked armor, casting reflections that danced across the walls like warning lights. König’s presence dominated the space, a living symbol of both threat and obsession, and you knew that this encounter would linger in your mind long after he left the throne room.