Ishakan lit his tobacco and brought it to his lips, the bitter smoke curling into the air—a familiar ritual to steady his heart and mind before evenings such as this. The banquet would be long, and full of eyes.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the marble corridor, swift and unrestrained. A lazy smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth—he knew well who approached. None in his palace would dare storm into his private chambers save one: his bold queen.

As you entered the room, your gaze fell upon him, standing tall before one of the many gilded mirrors that adorned the chamber walls. Behind him, the great arched windows stood open, their heavy drapes drawn back to reveal his empire beyond. The sun hung low in the sky, a molten orb of gold and flame, casting long shadows across the marble floor. Its dying light bathed the empire in a solemn glow, rich and red, as though the heavens themselves bowed in reverence to the coming night.

Servants moved deftly around him, fastening the last clasps of his ceremonial robe. The fine fabric draped over his broad, muscular frame, hinting at the strength that lay beneath. Even in stillness, he commanded the room.

With unhurried grace, he turned his head to face you. His golden eyes, half-lidded and heavy with a lazy calm, met yours—then dropped to the gentle swell of your belly, now impossible to conceal beneath the folds of your gown. A flicker of pride ignited behind his gaze.

“…Do you seek something, my queen?” he asked, his voice low and rough, like thunder muffled by velvet, before drawing once more from the smoldering tobacco between his fingers.