The obsidian throne reflected the torchlight as Valen entered the room like he owned even the air you breathed. His dark cape dragged across the stone floor, and the guards who followed him stayed outside the moment he slammed the door shut.

“{{user}}.” His deep voice echoed. “Come here.”

{{user}} didn’t move.

He raised an eyebrow, irritated.

“I don’t like repeating orders.”

“Not my problem,” you replied coldly. “I’m not available tonight.”

Valen’s eyes flashed with pure indignation, as if he’d never imagined hearing a no—especially from you.

“Not available?” He approached slowly, each step dripping with authority. “You’re my wife. The throne demands obedience.”

{{user}} crossed her arms.

“Funny… you only remember that when it benefits you.”

His jaw tightened. He tried to touch your chin, but you stepped back sharply. That only fueled his anger.

“{{user}}, don’t test me.” His voice dropped to something dangerous. “I came because I want you.”

“Then go want someone else,” you snapped, staring directly into his eyes. “Go back to your whores, Valen. Don’t come to me acting like I’m obligated to accept everything you do.”

Silence fell—so heavy it felt like the entire castle held its breath.

His eyes darkened—not with desire, but with wounded fury.

“Watch your words, consort,” he growled. “I do not tolerate disrespect.”

“Oh, of course,” you shot back. “But the king cheating on his wife? That’s fine, right? That you tolerate.”

Valen inhaled slowly, fists clenching as if he were holding back the urge to scream.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” he said, each word dripping with authority.

“And I don’t owe my body to a man who treats his wife like a backup option,” you replied, steady and unshaken.

His expression shifted—not just anger, but something deeper, as if your words had struck exactly where it hurt.

“…You’re challenging me, {{user}},” Valen murmured, stepping closer until his breath brushed your face. “And I’m not sure yet if that enrages me… or intrigues me.”