The Emperor's obsession

Kael clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles whitening as fury boiled beneath his calm expression. His jaw ticked, eyes narrowing as they flicked toward Serenya, who stood in silent distress. Her gaze met his, filled with worry and fear, her delicate features strained under the weight of everything that had just unfolded.

"Take the princess to her new chamber, Cassian," Zareth commanded in a tone that brooked no argument. His voice cut through the silence like a blade—imperious, rich, and absolutely final.

Serenya flinched slightly at his words. Her fists curled at her sides, the urge to protest surging in her chest—but she swallowed it. There was no winning an argument with this Emperor. She turned her gaze to the floor, silently trailing after Cassian as he stepped forward.

Zareth's red eyes remained trained on her retreating form until the heavy palace doors closed behind her. Then his expression turned colder, more lethal, as he pivoted sharply on his heels and stalked toward Prince Kael.

Standing inches away from the prince, Zareth leaned in, his crimson gaze searing through him. "Stay away from the princess," he murmured, voice dipped in menace. "Unless you have a death wish and no regard for your neck."

Kael's throat bobbed with restrained fury, but he didn't speak. Zareth offered a smirk—dark, amused, superior—before turning his head slightly toward King Rajan, whose face had drained of color.

"I always take what belongs to me," Zareth said, voice like silk soaked in venom. "And nothing… nothing… gets in my way."

He turned and strode away, his long imperial cloak flowing behind him like a banner of absolute authority.

—

Serenya was led through corridors she had never walked before, each step deeper into the grand and unfamiliar part of the imperial palace. The halls were carved with black stone and gilded with obsidian filigree, lanterns casting a soft golden glow over polished floors that whispered beneath their feet.

Her heart pounded with a mix of fear and fury, her breaths shallow. The air here felt heavier, more intimate—like Zareth's presence clung to the very walls.

Cassian, stoic and unreadable, offered no comfort. He walked beside her, close enough that she couldn't slip away.

When they reached the Emperor's Castle within the palace, Serenya felt a shiver crawl down her spine. The towering doors creaked open into a lavish corridor of silk-lined walls and imperial tapestries, all woven with imagery of dragons, flames, and endless conquest. Everything screamed of dominance—Zareth's dominance.

Cassian led her to a chamber adorned in deep crimson and shadowy gold. The canopy bed looked too grand, too inviting, too his.

"This will be your chamber," Cassian announced with a bow before stepping back. The door shut with a finality that made Serenya's heart jolt.

She stared at the luxurious room in disbelief before turning to the door and locking it hastily. Her back hit the door and she exhaled shakily.

"This Emperor is really… really unbearable," she whispered to herself, her delicate fingers curling against the cool wood.

Her chest rose and fell in quiet fury. No matter what, she promised herself, I will escape.

—

In another part of the palace, Elarynth lay on a plush bed, her face streaked with tears. The rich purple sheets beneath her were now stained with patches of blood from the lacerations on her back. The air in the room was heavy with the iron tang of pain and humiliation.

"Be careful, you fools!" she snapped at the trembling maids, who were trying to remove her ruined gown with the utmost care. "Do you want to rip my skin apart?! Move slowly!"

The servants froze, hands trembling. "Forgive us, Your Highness," they chorused, bowing repeatedly.

Queen Ishara swept into the room, her expression composed yet troubled. In her hands, she held a bowl of black medicinal paste.

"Remove her dress," she commanded, her voice clipped.

The maids obeyed despite Elarynth's hissing protests. Her gown fell away, revealing red, swollen lashes across her back. The skin was already beginning to bruise deeply. A gasp slipped from Thirena's lips as she and Naerya entered behind their mother.

"The Emperor is so cruel," Naerya whispered in horror.

Queen Ishara pursed her lips. "Elarynth brought this on herself," she replied, her voice low. "She should not have lied to the Emperor. My worry now lies with how to free Serenya."

Elarynth's eyes, already rimmed with tears, widened in disbelief. She turned her head sharply toward her mother.

"What?! This isn't my fault—it's Serenya's! She didn't even beg properly! She let me take those lashes while she sat on his lap like some favored pet!"

"Elarynth!" Thirena snapped, her eyes narrowing.

"Serenya did everything she could," Nearya said firmly. "The Emperor was set on punishing someone. She tried to stop him. You should be thankful she convinced him to reduce it."

Elarynth's jaw trembled with rage. "Don't defend her! I saw her! She's no innocent—she's a snake! How else did she get so close to the Emperor? When did she meet him? How does he have her birth chain?!"

Queen Ishara's gaze darkened, unease flickering in her eyes. That question had haunted her since the courtroom spectacle. How did Zareth come to possess such a sacred token?

"She would never do such a thing," Thirena said, voice firm. "Serenya is many things, but not that. She is too soft, too kind."

Elarynth sneered. "Then she's a fool. And she's the reason I suffered. Just wait—watch her betray us all."

"I want to be alone!" she screamed, her face twisting in anger and pain.

With a reluctant nod from the Queen, they all filed out of the room.

Left alone, Elarynth stared up at the gilded ceiling, the tears that pooled in her eyes no longer of pain—but of pure, unrelenting envy.

How could Serenya of all people win the Emperor's gaze?

She gritted her teeth. Her nails dug into her palms as her thoughts spiraled. The humiliation, the pain—none of it mattered compared to the rage burning in her.

Serenya will pay, she vowed.

—

Meanwhile, in his private chambers, Zareth leaned back in his chair, fingers lazily tracing the rim of a crystal goblet filled with dark wine. The taste of power lingered on his tongue—richer than the drink itself.

A low chuckle escaped him.

Mine, he thought, remembering the way Serenya looked when he held her in the throne room—flushed, trembling, defiant.

She was unlike any other.

"Such a sweet little thing," he mused aloud, "wrapped in innocence, but with a fire she doesn't know she has."

His smile curved with wicked anticipation. She would resist, of course—but that only made it more thrilling.

Zareth never chased. He claimed. And now that his sights were on Serenya, not even the gods themselves could pry her away from him.

—

The massive obsidian doors creaked open, a gust of warm air slipping through the grand room where Zareth stood shirtless, the sharp gleam of his sword catching the flickering candlelight. His back muscles rippled as he moved, the inked markings of ancient Nytherian prophecy etched across his shoulder blades, unreadable to most—ominous to all.

Cassian entered silently, his steps muffled by the thick black velvet rugs that lined the stone floor. His crimson eyes—always sharp, always calculating—settled on the emperor with a knowing gaze. Despite the grim setting, Zareth's demeanor radiated dangerous ease.

"Are you really that smitten by the princess?" Cassian asked, arching a brow, his voice laced with amusement. Cassian wasn't just his right had man , but one of his childhood friends.

Zareth glanced over his shoulder, a crooked smirk playing on his lips. He twirled his sword in one hand with effortless grace, then let it fall into its sheath with a soft clink. "Smitten is a fragile word, Cassian," he muttered, eyes narrowing into crimson slits. "I can't stop thinking about her. And all I want is to make her mine—completely. Forever."

Cassian chuckled, shaking his head. "I never thought I'd see the day Zareth Ravaryn would consider settling down with one woman."

"Neither did I," Zareth muttered with a low growl of dark amusement. "But she's not like the others. She makes me want to burn the world just to keep her."

Zareth brushed his hand through his hair before asking. "How's the report from the other kingdoms?"

"Arwen hasn't been able to convince anyone yet," Cassian reported.

Zareth scoffed, his lips curling with mockery. "That idiot of a cousin couldn't convince a starving dog to eat meat." He ran a hand through his inky hair before adding, "Prepare a sparring session. With the Crown Prince of Thamur."

Cassian blinked. "You're serious?"

Zareth's eyes crinkled with malicious glee. "I'm itching for blood."

—

Meanwhile, Serenya stood silently on the balcony of her chamber. The sunlight bathed her pale skin in a golden glow, the wind lifting the edges of her sheer veil. Her hands tightened into fists at her sides as she gazed down at the vast drop below. There was no way down—no escape.

Her innocent eyes clouded with fear and resolve. Slowly, she turned and walked to the mirror. With a trembling breath, she removed her veil, revealing the delicate curve of her cheek, the softness of her lips. She stared at her reflection, whispering to herself, "I won't stay here… No matter what."

A sharp knock jolted her. She quickly tied her veil back into place, her hands fumbling. Opening the door cautiously, she was met with a servant's bowed form.

"The Emperor has summoned you, Your Highness," the servant said.

Serenya's eyes narrowed. Her fingers curled tightly. "Tell the Emperor I would like to go back to my family," she said stubbornly, slamming the door shut and locking it behind her. Her chest heaved. Her heart thundered. She was scared—terrified—but she wouldn't submit.

Zareth stood in another chamber, his sculpted chest bare, a black cloth in his hand as he wiped the edge of his gleaming sword. His skin glistened faintly under the torchlight, his entire form looking like it had been carved from the obsidian mountains of Vhargor.

Footsteps approached.

The trembling servant entered.

"Where's the princess?" Zareth's voice was silk laced with steel.

The servant dropped to her knees, head bowed low. "Your Imperial Majesty… the Princess said she'd like to return to her family."

Silence.

Then came his chuckle. Cold. Dangerous. Arrogant.

Still wiping the blade, Zareth muttered, "Tell the princess to come to me… if she doesn't want me to come get her ." His smirk deepened as the servant scrambled out of the room.

—

Serenya stood at the balcony again, the wind now harsher. Another knock. This time, her hands trembled as she opened the door.

"The Emperor said… to come if you don't want him to come get you" the servant whispered.

Serenya inhaled shakily , she didn't want to be in an enclosed space with the Emperor. She followed the servant through the halls, each step making her knees wobble slightly. The walls of Zareth's wing were darker, the air heavier—as though it breathed with power and secrets.

The moment she stepped inside, her eyes widened.

There he stood. Shirtless. The Emperor.

Zareth's sculpted body was a perfect blend of power and lethal grace, his six-pack toned beneath the dim lighting, muscles flexing with each slight movement. His gaze snapped toward her.

Serenya gasped and instantly looked away, face flaming.' Shameless!' She turned, heart racing, ready to flee—

But his fingers closed around her wrist.

In one swift motion, he yanked her back and pinned her against the wall, his towering figure caging her with ease.

"Where do you think you're going?" His voice was low, seductive, threatening. His breath ghosted over her cheek.

Serenya trembled. "Y-Your Majesty… y-you should put on some clothes," she stammered.

He leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Why would I put on clothes… when I can make you blush with a single glance?"

She shut her eyes, cheeks scorching.

"I'm not blushing," she mumbled looking anywhere but his shirtless figure.

She shut her eyes.

Zareth chuckled, and the sound wrapped around her like smoke.

"I want to see your face."

Her eyes flew open as he reached for her veil.

"You can't!" she cried, catching his wrist.

He dipped his head to her level, his raven hair falling slightly into his eyes. "Why not?"

"Because… it's inappropriate. You just can't."

Zareth smirked. " Can't ? Women in Nytheris walk around veil-less."

Serenya bristled. "Then perhaps you should choose one of them."

"Why would I?" he replied smoothly.

And before she could react—he tugged her veil off.

His eyes drank her in—her wide, innocent eyes, the soft bow of her lips, the faint flush across her cheeks. She looked like a goddess veiled in moonlight.

"Why hide something so beautiful?" he whispered. "You're my woman. And my woman should never hide behind a veil."

"You can't just—"

"I can."

"I'm not your woman! I didn't choose this—"

Zareth's gaze darkened as he closed the space between them. "You didn't have to. I chose you."

Serenya's heart pounded and she pouted her lips in annoyance.

"I feel like kissing that mouth of yours," he said suddenly, voice husky.

She gasped, hands flying to cover her lips. "D-Don't you dare!"

He tilted his head in dark amusement. "Adorable."

Zareth had always taken what he wanted. And now, he wanted her. Entirely.

"I'll be sparring with Prince Kael," he said. "I want you there. Watch closely. Watch what a real man looks like."

Serenya retorted "I don't need the best. Just someone who makes me feel safe and wouldn't force me ."

Zareth snorted. "Semantics."

He extended his hand. "Come."

"I can walk just fine," she muttered.

" I never said you couldn't. Your hand."

Reluctantly, she placed her delicate fingers in his. He smirked, leading her out.

As they strolled down the corridor, he asked casually, "Do you think I should break his limbs? Or just the hand that dared to touch you?"

Serenya froze. Her stomach flipped.

Zareth turned his head slowly, eyes narrowing with deadly intent.

"Tell me, little dove… Should I go gentle on him?"