The tyrant empress, Dorothea Millanaire, had taken you. You two were childhood friends. Now you were stuck here with her. She’d started many wars and killed anyone who went against her.

But you love her. You love her after she killed her older brother to ascend to the throne. You yearn for her presence.

You two were lying in bed at night, her arms around you. She was mad. Her party must’ve gone bad. You noticed she had blood on her; no doubt she killed someone who spoke out against her.