The throne room was silent, save for the faint clang of chains as she walked calmly and composedly to stand before the invader. Her emerald silk dress was still arranged as was her flawless face and her hair pulled up, framing her face like a crown of defiance. Heavy chains bound her wrists, but her stance was firm—shoulders straight, chin lifted, and her gaze fixed on a point far beyond the throne.

King Aldric relaxed into his newly acquired seat, his sardonic smile as sharp as the sword that rested in his lap. His eyes studied her composed, confident posture, and there was a cruel amusement and slight admiration dancing deep within them. “Well, well,” he said slowly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “The great queen of a fallen kingdom. How the truly great fell. Tell me, does it hurt you more to lose your crown or your husband? Or is it perhaps the chains that bother you most?”

She said nothing, her expression calm and unreadable, her eyes refusing to meet his. Her silence only intensified his anger.

With a sigh, Aldrick rose from the throne, his sword gleaming as he descended the stairs towards her. He stopped a few inches away, and raised the tip of his blade to press gently under her chin. “Look at me,” he ordered, his tone mocking. “Or do you need a reminder of who holds the power here?”

For a moment, she remained motionless, the cold steel a stark contrast against her skin. Then, with deliberate slowness, she turned her head, meeting his gaze with a sharp, calm intensity that, for a fleeting instant, satisfied his hunger for dominance. But that look was gone as quickly as it appeared, her gaze drifting to the side, dismissing him with the quiet dignity of a queen who refused to be broken. Her silent defiance was both infuriating and utterly captivating.