ᴀꜱʜᴇɴ ꜰʟᴏᴡᴇʀ || ᴘᴀꜱꜱɪᴏɴ & ᴅᴇᴠ

[Devils Temptation]

Land of Flowers

Here, the earth breathes softly,
its skin covered in a living tapestry of color.
Each blossom opens like a whispered secret,
revealing its heart to the sky.

The air is thick with the scent of life,
wild and unashamed,
and the wind moves gently,
as if careful not to disturb the fragile beauty.

In this place, time forgets to move.
The petals fall slowly,
not as endings, but as beginnings—
a cycle of quiet rebirth.

This is a land where sorrow cannot root,
where even the stones are cradled
by the soft embrace of green,
and all that blooms, blooms forever.

---

---

Ash, blood, and the sounds of pleading screams. There were few hallmarks as potent in war as the scent of death. Oftentimes, that stench and noise clung so tightly to the survivors that it followed their every movement and thought until their very last dying days. Unfortunately, that was hardly the worst aspect of it all. Those who perished in a battle were oftentimes the lucky ones. Those that remained? Soldiers that lived were a commodity. Refined gradually through one Hell-like battle after another... each and every single one culling off more and more. Some might have described it as a blessing to make it from one battle to the next, others would refer to it as a curse. Everyone that fell lingered somewhat on the people who remained. Every ally, every family member, every life taken hung on like a ghoul to the backs of those who treaded onto the next day. With everyone single departed, that weight only grew heavier and more bitter.

That desire for revenge only grew stronger.

The hatred only seemed to seethe more, as if everyone taken had collectively aimed their grievances into the remaining few that survived.

If he closed his eyes, he could remember them. Those flowers. Clouds above like pure wisps of sugary floss. Brisk, chilled that slipped into his lungs like a fresh sip of cold water on a hot day. If he kept his eyes closed for too long, that sight was inevitably replaced by the sight of something else -

-

Ash, blood, and the sounds of pleading screams.
​

---

​

"You must understand, don't you?! Just like with us, that foul bitch stole everything that was precious to us! You must have been a good man once, you must have seen what the Empire leaves in its fucking warpath!" Pleading words from a hoarse throat, the palm of an older man clenching the chest plate atop himself. Numerous scarring had woven down the entirety of his facial features, a carve to his lip, a nick to his ear... an eyepatch lingering over his left eye likely after being lost in battle. Saddled against the right half of his chest were numerous medals and honorable accolades from his time in battle, but in that moment he had been steadily tearing them off one by one. Each and every single one was cast onto the ground with another thrust.

Each one at the foot of those black greaves that stood right in front of him. Torn and shattered apart. Stomped furiously as if every shove of his heel would smother the actions that had awarded him those medals in the first place. Pleadingly, he wrapped his hands together and lowered his forehead to the younger raven-haired knight in front of him.

"Why are you throwing all your awards onto the ground? They're the evidence that your loyalty belongs to the Empire. In this world, where the Empire is the one faction that rises above all... you're casting away everything that gives you value." Calmly, with a tone like pure ice, the younger man knelt and picked up the stomped down medals. Five of them that had been torn off the side of the older soldier's jacket. Nestling them into his grip like a delicate bouquet of flowers, he shoved one back onto the man's chest.

"Battle of Nightfall Creek. You bravely lead your cavalry amongst a larger force of infantry and completely eradicated every man in the platoon. To the point that the entirety of that tribal nation's population collapsed and was assimilated over night." One instance of genocide. Not too unusual, for the Empire's tactics. Feeling through the other medals, he picked up another and smashed it next to the first - right back on top of the knight's chest.

"The Siege of Kyraust. For fourteen days and fourteen nights, you sat valiantly at the gates of the fortress city and starved out every man, woman, and child within those walls until - by the end of the siege - the city you entered was so famished and broken that you could count the number of families that survived could be counted on one hand." Smudged the medal with his thumb, he moved to a ribbon next... preparing to award it back to the night once again before his wrist was clenched.

"Please... you know. You know why it had to be done. I live with those mistakes every day of my life... I have had enough. We need to stop the destruction - the loss of life. Somewhere, deep down, you know that too! Do you remember?!" One more plead to the younger knight's sensibilities... a tremor of happiness flickering along the older man's expression when he saw the knight's eyes flutter close and that faint hint of stress to clench against his jawline in a look that was equal parts pensive as it was introspective. Yes. He understood it well... the Empire was the strongest of all the nations on the continent. Spearheaded by an Empress with ultimate control and power over the whole of her empire, they operated through a system of warfare and assimilation. Neighbors and borders were constantly being raided and overtaken. Those who survived the bloodshed were given a place in the Empire - after all, it was a society that put strength above all else.

Former royalty. Generals. Anyone who could have even an ounce of value to the Empire was inevitably assimilated into their territory and their political system. They were given a place in the machine that continued to devour and take in all of those around them who were too weak to defend themselves. He was no different. The former prince of a small, mostly passive nation in the North - a place known for its flowers and a holy site for many. The type of country that one would have never expected to be raided and razed. He remembered it clear as day, when the first regiment of cavalry trampled past those meadows and set one of his villages aflame. The first of many. No amount of pleading or diplomacy would have absolved them - the Empire needed complete control of that small little nation in order to solidify a glaring hole within their borders... and so? They killed everyone that had once been in charge, they left no one but those that could be incorporated.

Out of the nearly fifty-thousand that had been living in the Principality of Floara, one hundred and fifty people survived.

Out of those one hundred and fifty who survived, one hundred and thirty were enslaved.

Nineteen were conscripted into the Empire's army.

One had been given a place among the generals of that Empire.

Prince Tyre Floara VII

A young man that had risen staggeringly quickly amongst the ranks of the Empire as a genius tactician and a fearsome general in war - capable of employing both brutal and courageous tactics while also handling himself with grace and eloquence. Soft spoken at the right times but strong and firm in the others.

When his gaze fluttered open once more, a bittersweet look lingered in his inky black eyes while his gaze remained cast down to the remaining medals on the ground. "You asked me if I remember... I do. Every time I close my eyes, I remember." Solemn, soft words that dripped a sense of understanding at the man's plight. ...And, for just a few moments, there was such an overwhelming look of relief atop the man's expression until the sudden --

CRUNCH.
SPLATTER.
SMACK.
​

One smooth draw of the sword at his hip, drawing one slice vertically along the man's neck to cut straight through his throat and decapitate him cleanly. A faint splash of blood danced along the tip of that blackened blade to dust Tyre's right cheek and before the head had fully rolled atop the ground, he would catch it by the hair to hold it in front of himself all while that splatter of blood wasted all over the discarded medals below.

"It is precisely because I remember that injustice that I cannot let a sloppy rodent like you get in the way. Do you understand that? You and I are not the same. You lost the moment you tried to strike at the pillars supporting this Empire." Dropping the head atop that fallen body, Tyre would let out an all too gentle laugh for how brutally he had offed the man beneath him.

"There is only one thing that you should've struck. Her Highness, the Empress." That was the only damage that would do anything worthwhile. Swiping his blade off to the side, he let a slick arc of blood splatter onto the ground off his weapon before he sheathed the sword and turned around with one flourish of his cape to make his way out of the barracks where the two had been speaking to one another. It was a simple, poorly thought out plot from one of the more senior generals to recruit Tyre into a coup to overthrow the Empress.

One that failed miserably because of how laughably sloppy it was...

Seemingly from the loyalty of one of her subjects.

But...

That could not be further from the truth.

Tyre would not bother to report this incident to the Empress, however. Something so insignificant was not ultimately worth her time, he had deemed. Indeed, there were countless attempts at rebellion from within the Empire that assimilated all those that it had once declared war on and crushed beneath its boot. In that sea of those who it took under its mantle, there were many who wished to enact revenge. The larger the Empire grew, the more unstable it became. The more common these attempts had become.

Every day was another attempt to overthrow the Empire and the powers that sat atop the throne...

Every day was another failure.

They were sloppy. Their resolve was not ironclad enough. He would show them what it really meant to overthrow an Empire.

---

There were many pitiful attempts that oftentimes missed the ears of the Empress, but the one Tyre thwarted a few days prior was too momentous to not be heard of, whether through advisors or through traveling gossip - he would've inevitably been summoned to the royal capital to explain why he had kept secret his merciless execution of a senior general. The Royal Capital was a bastion of a city, built atop such profound hordes of gold and riches that some described it as the cradle of Heaven. No less was expected of the one woman who forged the entirety of the Empire, who ensured that all those riches - all that power - all the talent would funnel back into that one city that sat at the very center of the empire.

Tyre had arrived immediately upon being sent the letter demanding his audience to the Empress. Fresh-dressed in similarly dark colors, not a single blemish or hint of mess anywhere along his faintly pale features. Nor was there any type of concern on his expression. Keeping such information from his superior officers, in itself, could have been seen as treason. That he merely killed an accomplice that had gotten too sloppy. Treason was met swiftly with execution. In spite of it all? He merely lifted his index finer within the handle of that tea cup, bringing it to his lips for another leisurely sip until an attendant entered the waiting lounge and gave him a brief salute before announcing firmly.

"The Empress will see you now. Please leave any weapons within the lounge. They will be handled delicately and given to you upon your return!" To which Tyre had grasped the sash holding his sword to his hip and lifted it high enough to sling his arm underneath it and settle it down atop the table. With that, he followed the attendant as he was lead through those massive halls. Past several lines of infantry and numerous royal guards... and then finally brought to the towering red gates of her Highness' throne room.

​

He had seen those gates only once before. One mere week after his country had been razed to charcoal. When he was forced to meet the Empress' summons and she immediately took him within her army and her country... a night that replayed in his head time and time again. Silently, he treaded towards those gates to push them open with one hand and proceed into the throne room. Exactly five steps. No more, no less, before he settled into a kneel atop that red carpet and in front of the throne.

"My Empress. You have called and I have answered. Please allow me to apologize for keeping the execution of General Garm from you - I wished to lessen your work by keeping the squashing of an insignificant bug from your attention." Holding his head low, he kept his fist on the carpet and kept his other arm folded behind his back - not daring to raise his head to her. "I will accept any punishment you deem fit for my actions." Insignificant. To describe the killing of one of the most affluent and powerful generals of the Empire insignificant was nothing short of amusing. Yet, he had always been like that. No matter what problem she may have had - no matter how overwhelming or how soul-crushing it felt to resolve... he always remained in her shadows and swept it all up. Every single time.

Even this coup was no different. All of it was resolved before she even had a chance to lose a single second of sleep to the thought of it...

 

[Passion]

It was baffling; she couldn't get herself to stop crying. Shameful. Weak. A lack of control. At one point she growled in deep frustration at her sea of emotions. "Augh!!!!" She didn't know what to do with these feelings, nor did she understand them as she closed off many facets of herself. She did not shed a tear when her army set innocent villages ablaze. She didn't think twice about killing off some of her most loyal and long-running advisors even after rather mild misunderstandings. She refused to get attached to anyone, as all she ever knew was betrayal and a lack of love. That was reflected in her cruel rule. She struggled to trust and grew used to the fear and bitterness that surrounded her.

He told her to hold her tongue, and she did end up hiding her face in his chest. Veah continued to cry, and so she kept her face buried against his chest to hide away when usually she was beaming with confidence; she didn't want another soul seeing her in such a state. It was only for him to see.

She was brought up to her chambers, which was an isolated room on the very top of the eastern tower. It was not where the original royal bedroom was, but she had it moved to be further away from everyone in the castle. It was for her safety, but it also fit Veah's closed-off nature.

If Tyre was in his right mind, after tucking her in, he would have run for his life. To take advantage of her exhaustion and make a run for it, but he would instead prove his bravery and loyalty to her by promising to stay. After being left for dead before her innocent hands even spilled a drop of crimson blood, she expected people to leave even when she needed them the most. Her bitter view of the world and others turned her into the monster that she was today, but as she tried to piece herself back together, it could be seen that Veah was not born evil; she was simply a cursed woman who had nothing but her own demons to rely on.

At that moment, not even she knew how she would wake up. Her ears were still ringing when he said her titleless name. She was being seen as the woman she was, not for the crown she wore. It made her feel naked beyond her flesh.

He is a threat, my child.
He knows how to break and melt ice.
My coldness protects you in a way promises and shields cannot.
Xemva is the only one you can trust.
You must kill him.​

The voice ringing in her mind made her claw at one of her cheeks. It was far too dangerous for her to be undone like this.

"Stay… or I'm alone in the chaos you surfaced and Xemva's voice." She rarely talked about Xemva beyond being her being the only god the empire would serve and worship. No one quite understood her connection to the dark god, as she did not speak about it often.

It was a mystery what goals and intentions Xemva had with Veah beyond spreading death and misery in exchange for making Veah the most powerful woman known. While there were a lot of unknowns, it was that often cold and malicious aura she had that was enough proof of her connection; she was supernatural, and she was to be feared.

Despite her alignment with the dark goddess, she would give Tyre a warning. "She wants me to kill you." To kill the only one who managed to put a crack in her barrier.

However, Tyre was a man without fear. With a tender kiss and caress, he tucked in the overwhelmed and exhausted empress for the night. Sleep was for the best as she was running off of drunken fumes.

---

A New Day​

With the sunlight and a familiar voice, the empress' eyes would flutter open. She would spend a few long seconds piecing together how she got here and why he was in her room. "It's like that on purpose…," she sleepily whispered regarding her isolating room and the lack of warmth it had. Part of the reason why it felt so empty was the fact the empress didn't spend much time in her room. She hardly slept or even rested, always planning her next battle and listening to endless reports on her army and the lands she had conquered.

Sitting up slowly, she looked down at her torn dress before looking at the man who caused it sitting on the windowsill. Just seeing him then threw her mind into chaos. Anger, yearning, curiosity, an attraction that she couldn't help, and so on… What was she to do? Why was it even a fucking question? She attempted to brush back her hair with her fingertips, only for them to get caught in a few loose knots more than likely caused by how he grabbed her by the hair the night before and the deep slumber he lulled her into.

Her eyes narrowed on his form as he kneeled before her bed. Showing respect that he had lost the night before, but it would be short-lived. He would find his feet once more and dare to touch the woman of many nightmares. The warmth he had gifted her had been stolen away, and he would find that her coldness was back, emitting from her like crisp night air.

​

Reaching up, her fingertips trailed up his forearm to his wrist, which she would abruptly squeeze. "First of all... do NOT call me Veah without a title attached." She was proud of her accomplishments; she had already said she refused to be seen as a normal woman. But there was more to it. "The only people who called me Veah were my parents and my siblings." They were literally dead to her in every way possible. With the only people who called her Veah being those she was born to love who deeply betrayed her, she struggled to hear her own name. Could that change over time? Maybe if she ever learned to let go of the bitterness that caused her to stain streets red.

"Next, you aren't to dare speak to others about my tears." She wouldn't say anything else about it. She was still baffled and embarrassed that he had even made her shed a tear. It was WEAK to cry, and the empress wouldn't believe she was WEAK.

"Moving on…," her voice lingered; clearly she was still tired, but she was already handling this personal affair as business. "You have offered now multiple times to give me anything I want. I can already get whatever I want. I have so much land, riches, resources, and power. My empire grows by the day, and you speak as if one man alone, you, could move a mountain for me." He could provide aid with icy terrain and as a general, but that was minor in the grand scheme of things.

"I've grown to admire your bravery, but you have to see things from my point of view. You should at least be exiled." The grip on his wrist lessened. "At this point, I question why I have not acted against you more than I question your disrespectful actions." As an empress, she couldn't support the behavior, but she seemed to like it enough that he kept getting away with it with little correction; he was her spice in her dull castle.

"So, I have to think. What is it that I want? Why have I not killed you myself?" Both of them wanted to kill each other and… hadn't. Veah was unaware of how much loathing the general carried for her, but he had plenty of opportunities, and Veah also had plenty of reasons. "You had told me you wanted to get to know me as the woman I am, and not just your empress, which I feel is foolish, as it is little different than getting to know a corpse, but I think that is the direction that you could offer me something."

Her hand slid back up his arm, smoothing its way to his shoulder, up the side of his neck, before settling on to his face. Her touch felt like a lover's as she tapped into the attraction that she had for him. "I'm attracted to the power you have inside of you. I see it, I feel it."

She took a subtle but sharp inhale, feeling a spark just thinking about it. "I usually don't mingle with any of my soldiers or any men who have valiant traits, as they come with risk, but… now that I had a taste of one… and how you can make me melt just enough to make me feel warmth…" Her statement lingered, only for her to cut herself off.

Last night replayed in her mind:
I refuse to lose this heat. I want to bathe in flames.

"...Or was it just the nectar talking?"​

Curious to find out, she guided his face to level with hers so she could kiss him. While the kiss wasn't overly steamy, it was deep. While lip-locked and not under the influence, she was searching for a spark that would bring her clarity when in reality, it would bring her more obscurity.

 

[Devils Temptation]

There was no point in speaking. Even if she were to rake her nails down his flesh, there was hardly anything more than a muted response. Tyre's eyes wandered along the length of her milky, pale figure absentmindedly. Such a shame. She had a lovely name and yet hated to use it. Names were important, particularly in his culture. Whatever she so strictly demanded, he would just passively accept with a single, lukewarm nod. Almost as if he had not even accepted what she was saying. It would not be the last time he used her name. Nor would it be the last time that he would continue to promise her everything. There was so much still remaining to tempt her with, but at the core of it all... he was a soldier. Those fantasies she possessed of power and grandeur, she seemed mistaken in the notion that he was merely assuring her of trifling, empty words. No. He was coaxing her constantly to send him onto the battlefield to prove himself. His track record had already assured the Empress that he was a skilled general...

The only thing remaining was to give him a proper stage. A proper battle. A proper conquest to shatter and crush even when the odds were against him.

He was not like the others. That raw craving for power, it was demonic how strongly it radiated in them both.

What is it that I want? Why have I not killed you myself?​

Pure amusement spread across his feature, smirk stretching at the sharper jawline as soon as he leaned closer in to lock eyes with the woman. "You are welcome to end me whenever you please. You know that well. Genuinely, my Empress... I wish you luck. The more time you take -" A grasp of his hand over her jaw, caressing it in nice, slow, leisurely drags of the tip of his thumb. If only she knew just how true those words could have been for her. "-the harder it will become for you. The more I will adore you. And the more obvious the answer to this question will become..." Why? Why was he not dead? If she searched a little deeper, maybe she would have already come to realize how messy her attraction to him had become... the full width and range of low-simmer adoration that had begun to build between the two of them.

It was too messy.

It would be her undoing.

I usually don't mingle with any of my soldiers or any men who have valiant traits...
but… now that I have a taste of one…​

Something in him told him to keep away from that kiss she was clearly guiding him into. That curious gaze of hers that wished to peel back more layers about him. To keep his distance, to seduce her with more riches and territory... there was no reason to go for her body, or the pleasure she could offer him, or to lay with the enemy he so deeply despised. But - far stronger than the rationality was the overwhelming storm of emotions he felt whenever he was with her. As if his heart was going to explode at any given moment with a mixture of attraction and pure disgust. And, so, though she had initiated the kiss? Very quickly, it slipped between her fingers. Grabbing at her jaw and chin firmly, he tilted her head back and buried his mouth against her own with a much firmer embrace of their mouths. Certainly not the same spark as when she had the nectar... everything felt a little more dull.

Only if he had left it right there, of course.

Soft, firm squeezes of her neck would guide her to roll her mouth against his own in eager little locks of their lips. Any time she would dare to even try and pull away, the harsh catch of his teeth on her lower lip would pull her back into the kiss. Back and forth, until their lungs started to ache and their lips started to grow a little more red and raw from the intimacy. Tyre did not ask for permission. He took what was his. And so with one more nip of her lower lip, she would find his taste buried into her mouth all over again. Laps of his warm, wet tongue while the two exchanged a much deeper passion than anyone would have been allowed to with her.

Concubines could kiss.

But it was always, always for sexual satisfaction. To worship her like a Goddess. To pay attention to every inch of her body.

The way he kissed?

It felt like he was breaking, pounding into her mind that she belonged to him. That her lips were his. That he could kiss her and take her however, whenever he so wished. That was not a kiss of a man whose sole intent was to arouse her. That was the kiss of a man who sought to dominate every last thought into her mind until the only thing she could do was melt against his body. Low pants and heaves of breath along her lips would have him finally pulling away. Throughout the kissing, his eyes had grown narrowed and hooded, glaring upon her with such intense bedroom eyes.

When was the last time anyone looked at her like that...?

Equal parts terrifying, as it would've been stimulating. Tyre had no intention of just leaving her at a pretty face. His attraction to her was far more vile and warped, far more intense than an ordinary man could achieve solely because of what she and her filthy Empire had done to him.

"Stop talking like I give a damn about your threats. Don't make me fucking laugh..." Forehead to forehead, the intensity of his glare shimmered with utterly turbulent emotions - hand remaining on her thigh to ensure they were as close to one another as he could manage. "...your tears? They're only for me. I'll fucking kill anyone who takes that from me. You shared them with me. They are mine. Your name? Fine. I will concede to not call you that... but do not compare me to that family of yours. The depth of my feelings runs far deeper than theirs ever could or ever will." Not in the way she might've hoped either, but it was easy to fall into his false promise of such strong, vivid emotions. His rage, his anger at her - it was far stronger and far more superior to the pathetic, squealing way her family was dispatched upon trying to end her life.

"I can give you whatever you wish. The only thing remaining is your own reluctance, my Empress. Put me to work. Give me a task that cannot be accomplished. I am happy to show you." Heat pulsed at his temple. Every day of his life was a struggle, to fight a battle that he was constantly on the verge of losing. What was a few more 'impossible' tasks. If she wanted him to clear a mountain to allow him close enough to cleave her head from her shoulders... then so be it. If he failed , it merely meant that his revenge and his rage was not strong enough.

It is little different than getting to know a corpse

The memory of those words would make him finally falter. Expression momentarily falling downcast. They had so much in common, despite sitting so opposite one another in life. He, too, was nothing more than a husk. What would his comrades have thought when seeing him? Tyre stood for nothing, stopped at nothing. He merely marched forward endlessly. "You are something to me, Veah... I will tell you that as many times as I wish. You and I, we have more in common than you could ever dare to know. And, even after all that has transpired and all that I have gone through for this -" A hand drew back to the counter to pick up the one item he had left on it. A single, white Everwinter Blossom. No nectar to extract from it and it had long since been deceased. Reaching back towards her, he tucked the white flower behind her ear.

"-I still cannot help but think, if given the opportunity, I would make you feel the same intensity every... single... time." One last kiss against her forehead, hair parted and with that he drew back entirely. The warmth that lingered between them was slowly starting to fade. Melting away into an icier, unpleasant chill. Not just for her - but for him as well. Very quickly, he had started to realize just how much he savored the warmth he created with her.

How fucking dangerous...

Falling to a proper kneel, this time, in front of her door - he would press his fist down on the ground and wrapped his hand behind his back. "Is there anything else I may do for you, my Empress?" He had to leave soon. She knew that as well. Whispers would start to circulate in her court that she had begun to grow favor with a man. Even more so, Tyre needed a long, warm bath to cleanse his mind of all of this. Of the thought of her, of how she was mingling with his vendetta to create something far more sick.

He needed to separate from her.

 

[Passion]

Her lips were sweet; after all, poison wasn't always bitter.

They indulged in a kiss that both of them desperately wished to hate. She was the woman who burned his origins and the life he built in the North to the ground, and he could brave through some of the coldest terrains, even her icy defenses that risked a vulnerability that she couldn't afford. There was no time for personal pleasures beyond a bottle of wine every now and again; she had a world to conquer, but Tyre was becoming one of those foreign luxuries she struggled to reject. It was what was keeping him alive, but it was also wrapping him in the web of the one he hated most.

While the kiss was meant to be a fleeting experiment, her general took control of the kiss, deepening it until they both felt the embers of warmth. A small fire that reminded the icy souls that they were still alive, they still could burn with life. If it was out of greed, lust, or hate, they were both not merely corpses as much as the cruelty of the world had made them feel such a way. They had found vitality in each other, which was a nightmare to be tangled in.

She placed a hand on his wrist as if she was going to rip it away with her hand, but her hand twitched against his as the sensations he gave her were too delightful to halt. The empress didn't want to control that kiss at that moment; it felt so surreal to give in to the feelings and warmth fluttering in her, all these wonderful and foreign sensations that he alone gave to her. She couldn't help but whimper during the kiss, her nails lightly clawing into the back of his hand as the impact he made on her resonated throughout her icy inner fortress.

No man had ever made her feel this way before, although part of the reason was that she never allowed it; Tyre didn't give her a choice. He would make his point by deepening the kiss, his tongue finding hers to kiss her with depths and passion that her concubines would never. While she was a fairly experienced woman, he made her feel like she had been untouched until now. The kiss was piercing, blaring out thoughts in her mind, and made a hefty dent in her defenses. A clueless yet impulsive part of her wanted to get lost in this, to allow him to stain and shape every thought of hers. To forget everything but this kindling passion.

When the kiss broke, she snapped back into reality. It felt like a splash of cold water. It was no wonder why Xemva advised that she kill him. He was a threat, a bigger one than she wanted to admit. Of how protective she was, it baffled her that she wanted to explore more than she wanted to extinguish. It was as if a spell had been put upon her, but... she wasn't dealing with a wizard, now was she?

They lingered close after the kiss broke, and Tyre spoke boldly as he always did. As much as his blunt words made her want to murder him, they made her long for him more. He was confident enough to claim both her and her unheard-of tears. His possessiveness mixed with a hint of a willingness to protect her, to protect what he had 'claimed' as his own. She was still unaware of how many bitter feelings he carried for her, but he was able to successfully tap into his intensity to coax the mystified empress into believing in his strong feelings.

He agreed not to say her name without a title, but he would soon fail to do so. Hearing her name made her tense, yet she did not interrupt when he spoke of her worth to him. He would gift her with another flower, tucking it in her light hair, giving her an innocent look to the woman whose hands were dyed crimson countless times. Perhaps she had a lot in common with the Everwinters.

"We will have to see, now will we?"​

She would allude to the idea that there would be another opportunity to test his theory regarding intensity in the future. He opened the can of worms of sleeping with the enemy, while Veah unknowingly was risking becoming deeply compromised. Still, he breathed forgotten life into the cold woman; she couldn't ignore that fact.

He would back away, and the space between them would feel like an unwelcomed void. However, even the empress knew it was for the best. These feelings needed to simmer down, even better if they died, but deep down, they both knew it wouldn't be that easy.

She would get to her feet, watching him fall into the socially proper position, kneeling before her. This was the first time it felt strange to have someone kneeling. She couldn't put her finger on why, but the truth is she had never had anyone successfully steal some form of control from her. Also, it had been the first and probably the last time someone was brave enough to claim her, her thoughts, and her tears.

"You have been itching to prove yourself or make some kind of difference for the empire, and so I will grant you that wish." There was a pause as she considered the situation. "I am sure you know of the rebel group called The Shattered Oaths." It was a known group that was against the empress. A group that no matter how many times she squashed, kept coming back like cockroaches. Originally, they started in the western nation of Olyth, survivors of one of the first massive crimson waves the empress issued upon innocent lands. It was far away from the hub of the empire that the survivors were able to gather each other and resources from under the Red Army's nose to become quite a threat when they were in the shadows. It was unknown how strong they were or what their plans were. The empress was best at conquering massive battlefields but did struggle with the rats and roaches that existed in her empire.

"I heard some of them are right here in Caldara." The capital city was massive. They could be anywhere, but there were reports of whispers of them in taverns, often wearing midnight blue cloaks. "They have been spotted, and we captured a few, but they won't talk." Her eyes narrowed at the thought. "I want them dragged out of hiding and dealt with. I can't tell you if there are 5 of them or 50, but you can do just about anything for me, right?" It would be hard to double-check his work if all were removed, but surely, he could leave a blunt enough message to the rebel group that they would not be tolerated, couldn't he?

 

[Devils Temptation]

I am sure you know of the rebel group called The Shattered Oaths.
I want them dragged out of hiding and dealt with. I can't tell you if there are 5 of them or 50, but you can do just about anything for me, right?​

Perhaps in her head, she had already resolved that a mere general - a man raised and born into royalty would not have the capacity or nature to infiltrate and root out rebels... but that was where the mistake started and ended. There was no one who understood despising the Empire more than he had. Rising to his full height without being prompted, Tyre would stare straight into Veah's eyes. "I want my prize when I finish my task. And I do not mean reputation, wealth, or power. I will have you when - when I return. Not if." Momentarily, that gaze would linger onto her own. There was no need to be explicit about what his 'prize' was. She knew it was well as he had. Turning away, he cast one last glare over his shoulder along with a final command - one final reminder of the sort of power he had so fleetingly held over her. "Keep me in your thoughts. Take care, Empress." Spoken not as some sort of parting prayer, nor as some sort of sweet love letter. He spoke it as if it were a command that she could not... would not forget about him while he was gone.

Just like that, she was left alone in her room. No longer in the presence of his voice, or his warmth, or that corruptive way he stole control from her. Once again, they were alone. How ironic, had it been, that the man who had everything torn from him and the woman who tore everything from herself in pursuit of power would find solace in each other's presence. Maybe it would be better if he had failed on that quest. Nothing more than a passing memory, a foolish little flicker of love that would be mercilessly crushed underfoot.

---

---

Soldiers, generals, citizens. They were like pawns on a chess board for someone like the Empress. Every detail down to how many breaths they took in a day was something she could observe through her network of spies... but not when it came to Tyre. Surveillance upon him produced the same results, that he had left the palace that day - ventured into the capital city and was never again spotted. Seemingly, he had left out of his official attire, blending into the community as a mere citizen. No different than the various others that had composed the Empire. There was no one 'look' to the monster that was the Nyxoria Empire. They consumed and devoured countries to the point that not one single individual looked quite the same as the next. Picking out a man like him in the crowd, subsequently, had been a nightmare in its own right. It was just as she had assumed. The capital was utterly massive and he had gone to a place even she could not reach.

Even if that thought might've grated on her horribly, it was necessary. The same reason those people were a thorn in her side was the same reason she could no longer have her hand grasped around Tyre - they hid in the cracks, in places even her influence had trouble reaching.

---

"They tell me that this is a mistake, general. Do you know why it is that I chose to do this anyways?" A metal cup had been pushed up towards the cloaked Tyre, cool amber liquid filled to the brim. He would wrap a hand around the cup, raising it to his lips before taking a moment to take the scent. Alcohol. If it was laced, it was with something he couldn't detect. Sitting across from him had been a similarly young man. Well-dressed with gelled blonde hair. Lacking a tan or any serious scarring over his body would give the impression that he was well-educated or at the very least, the son of someone influential. Hard work seemed to not have passed through him very often.

Taking a sip, Tyre would give a gesture to the man in front of him to allow him to continue speaking. He looked to be a man that enjoyed the sound of his own voice.

"That look in your eyes. How many people do you believe the Empire has in its borders? Far more than any country it could dare to border... the reasons to despise this nation are so readily abundant that it is no surprise organizations like mine, or various others exist. But what distinguishes them from us? Why have we evaded capture? The reason is simple. Our grudges run much deeper than everyone else. You have that look in your eyes. Seemingly empty and calm, but with a rage so strong it could tear this world apart. So - I want to know... and please forgive me." Tapping his fingertip along the table, he leaned in close and 'comfortingly' wrapped his hand over Tyre's own with an assuring squeeze.

"Why do you want to join the Shattered Oath?" A sickening sensation would start to bubble in the general's core. Why? WHY? That was the question everyone always wanted to know and it was always the same. It did not matter what rebels tried to recruit him, it did not matter what their end goal was. Everyone wished to know why. As if that would, for even a moment, change what had come to pass. People sympathized with those that went through something they had... but in Tyre, there was a personal disgust. Every single time, he was forced to tell the same story. Every single time, he was made to cope and pretend as if off-loading it did anything for him. Or perhaps it was just a reminder. Of the anger. The grief. The empty, hollow feeling of knowing there was nothing that could be done again. Taking another sip from the cup, he set it down and took a deep breath...

"I was the prince of a nation once... betrothed to a woman that I could only describe as a ray of sunshine bundled and tucked within a blessing too good for this world... she was a woman that taught me much about myself, about what it means to genuinely adore someone with all your heart. In every way she was..." Beautiful. Someone who did not belong in this world. Someone who was promptly taken out of it without a shred of mercy.

1

"Oh dear! Should I bow since you are a prince? Will you be mean to me? I'm fragile country dandelion, you know? I'll cry. You wouldn't make a girl cry, would you?"​

"Most people don't walk up to a prince and start yapping away like a fool, quite frankly. Seeing as how you lack the shame, I will just let you do as you please."​

"Aw, but... you look so lonely out here, just mumbling to your flowers like some sort of little weirdo. But! If you're with me, then it's a date, isn't it? Plus - I love the flowers here too, so why don't we love them together?"​

"...You really are shameless. I don't come here because I like flowers. They're an important export of this country so I need to ensure they are maintained. Nothing more, nothing less."​

"That's not true! We both know it isn't. You always go to the same types, in the same meadows, of the same colors. What's next? Are you gonna tell me that the color makes twice the money?"​

"Stop watching me. It's a nuisance."​

"Oh. I wasn't insulting you. I think your choices are wonderful. What do you think, your Highness?" ​

A small, plucked white blossom nestled behind her left ear and a smile so honey sweet that it made heat flush to his cheeks mere moments after laying eyes on her.

"Do you still think flowers aren't pretty?"​

...

This one was the most beautiful, he decided on that day.

"...perfect. I was built to be a political tool myself. In a land without very much power or influence, she was the one that taught me how to live and gave me larger aspirations beyond merely fulfilling some ridiculous, broken duty to further the power of my nation. Things I would never have even thought about, I did with her -"

2

"When are we going to have a baby together, Tyre? You know I always wanted to be a mother, right?"​

"You remind me every day of that fact, Marisol. Either way, families are complicated affairs in royalty. We need to prepare and have you turned into royalty so we can --"​

"I don't care about any of that. Besides, they'll always think even with a tiara, that a country sow is just that, a sow in a tiara. I want babies with you. Not so they can do something elaborate like turn into heirs. That'd be nice to give you too. I want to take them to our flower fields. I want to tell them the exact moment their daddy fell in love with me. I want to show them all the love letters he's buried me in. I want to raise them in love. I think they'd be the sweetest, most precious little things in the world. Don't you? So who cares about any of that? Let's make a family already, Tyre."​

"...Look. Your introduction into the royal family is basically ensured at this point, sweetheart. Beyond that, we are already trying every night... by the time you show, you'll already be a princess."​

"Aw, darling... your ears are doing that thing where they turn red. So cute..."​

"You are infuriating in the worst ways, Marisol."​

"Oh, hush... you make me the happiest woman in the world, so you can't blame me for wanting to return the favor. I look forward to you tonight, your Highness."

"I love you, Tyre. Think of a name for our baby, please. I want you to name our first."​

...

"I love you too, Marisol. I promise to give them a wonderful name."​

"- she was my future. Had I not met her, I would have fallen during the invasion of Floara. I fought until my fingernails were bloody, until my sword was chipped and broken - I took down countless of the Empire's men... but it was for absolutely nothing. I wanted to reunite with her one more time. If I was to die, I wanted it to be beside her. More than even that, I had something to tell her. Just one simple thing..." He desperately wished she had heard it... that she had not run off during that final battle. Marisol had put too much trust in him. That he would not lose, nor that he would fail. In moments of pure crisis, where others were giving up and surrendering, she held firm with a love of that nation that rallied so many behind her. If only she knew it put a target on her back. The resistance. The pride imbued into his people... it was the exact reason they were mercilessly genocided in the final invasion - and she? She was made as an example, hung right in the plaza in front of all remaining survivors.

If only he had reached her in time. If only they had run away. If only the Empire did not exist.

This man was right.

TYRE FELT RAGE WELL BEYOND ANYTHING THAT ANY OTHER REBEL WOULD EVEN FATHOM IN THEIR FUCKING LIVES.

If only, IF ONLY he could have told her the name. The first one he wanted to give. IF ONLY he had properly died beside her during that invasion. Something had died. Left behind was the remnants of a cold, merciless soldier - a cold, tactical beast that the Empire struggled so overwhelmingly to take down. It was the only reason he had been spared, put into their employment. His strength was recognized. The one aspect of him that Marisol seemed to not care about or for.

"I am your ally. We are brothers. I have also had family torn from me... this must end. The reign of the Empress leaves a sadistic, cruel warpath. Join us. We have quite a few influential roots in this capital city, just not one in the military. With your backing... we could march on the palace tomorrow, Tyre." He was right. Tyre had an army close enough to stage an insurrection. They obeyed his command, would follow him wherever he so pleased... and with the proper influence from nobility - all the elements clicked into place.

All he needed to do was agree. To turn tail right here.

He could see the fall of the Empress right then and there --

---

---

That was not how it had come to pass. ​

A mere week before news arrived right atop Veah's lap.

Exactly what had been harshly demanded by her had been given to her. A public execution, a dozen ringleaders were slaughtered in plain view of everyone as traitors of the Empire. Noblemen, senators, merchants, clergymen - alongside handfuls of more grunts that were not even given the time of day before being killed on the spot. Effectively, Shattered Oath had been infiltrated and dismantled over a week, even more concerning was just how powerful some of the men and women had been in that organization... clearly a seed waiting to take root to the point it festered so harshly that the Empress herself would have an agonizing time rooting out the corruption. But...

It wasn't Tyre who delivered the news to her.

Advisors spoke of it into her ears, presenting the executions to her and the list compiled by Tyre - along with their involvements in undermining the Empire. All of it was meticulously put together, but there was just one thing missing. Him. After such a blatant, brave proclamation that he would 'claim his prize immediately' after finishing his task - he was nowhere to be found in her throne room. The general had not scheduled a meeting with her, nor had he made his presence known upon entering the palace grounds. Merely, he relayed the news and had someone else deliver it to the Empress.

Had he lost interest in her?

Why was he not coming to take her as he promised?

Had she not been worth even a meeting at this point?

Whatever at that point had been running through her head, there was no one to rectify it. Just her own thoughts. Whatever conclusion she came to, there was only one person who could verify or deny it. Now that he had returned and was stationed in the palace, his every routine could be observed... and one thing seemed to stand out the most. "Empress... he is once again in the gardens. The general has completed his task well, but he looks to be completely unresponsive when not given an order. The other nobility residing in the outer palace have started to complain that his presence is a little unsettling and unwelcome in the royal gardens... shall we give him another order? He has proven himself to be a capable asset that can be put to good work. If you say the word, I shall draft a plan to utilize him in proper." One advisor assured her... but ultimately the final decision was hers.

---

Absent-minded... contrary to how he usually had been. Sharp-witted and constantly craving the next step of his revenge. It had not been the betrayal of Shattered Oath that had his mind spinning. No. The memory of his beloved had another thought resurfacing to his head, not the bitter - raw sensation in his mouth. A specific thought that flashed in his mind in the most infuriating, disgusting way he could. God, he despised that thought. HE HATED EVEN CONSIDERING IT.

But every time, he would come back to these gardens, to stare at the same white flowers.

Every time, he was reminded of the utterly crippling realization that...

She looked like you when she had that flower in her hair.

Clenching fists had his knuckles turning completely white and in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to contemplate death by the very same guillotine that he had sent those near dozen to. Tyre, more than anything, DID NOT WANT TO FEEL THAT WAY TOWARDS THAT FUCKING WOMAN.

Affection. Love. Lust.

A clench of his hand had his palm covering the side of his face. Why couldn't he just face her? To take her in that rush of passion he did the night prior? To him, it was growing increasingly more obvious. The absence had started to make him crave her. His obsession had started to make him savor her. The pain had made him cling to someone that resembled his past lover. All of it was messy. All of it fueled an increasingly addictive craving of the Empress. He could not -

He would not face her right now.

That gnawing in his mind and in his heart made it a struggle to so much as push the thought of her out of his head.

"...I'm going to lose my fucking mind at this rate..." An order. He needed an order. He needed to be sent far away from her and to cool his head. Anything at all to have him leave - anything at all to stop him from digging his fangs into that temptation, allowing that obsession of his to fester.

 

[Passion]

He didn't have to command it; it was impossible to get the events of what had happened out of her mind.​

It wasn't very pleasant to be in the middle of meetings with her mind reflecting on the kisses and tears she shared with the general. It filled her with mixed emotions. She enjoyed the high, the warmth that he had shown her. It had melted through her defenses enough to bring tears to her eyes as he breached beyond her icy fortress. At the same time, it was pointless or even harmful for Veah to fixate on it.

Personal affairs did not line up well with her goals of conquering. Sex, passion, relationships, and love would not help her achieve her goals. Just like him, the only thing known to fuel her was getting her own twisted form of revenge. Hers on this very world cursed her existence since the day she was born and yet gifted her the strength of Xemva.

However, no matter how much she tried to dismiss the thoughts, the general's face flooded her mind even while she tried to sleep. She longed to experience him more while sober. There was no way he would make her melt again, would he? It was a question that haunted her, wondering if she would get her answer when he returned for his reward, but… he wouldn't come to claim what was his.​

---

It was a week after her eighteenth birthday that she rode up on a stolen horse to the castle gates. She wore nothing but a stained sack, her blonde hair caked with dried mud. It wasn't the first time she survived and made it all the way back 'home'. She used to return with tears in her eyes or with the flames of anger, but this time in particular there was a cold void. She had learned the only people she could count on were herself and the voice of Xemva. For the longest time, she had avoided Xemva like she was told to; after all, it was because of the dark goddess that she wasn't accepted. However, it was only Xemva who listened and comforted her.​

No one will ever love you besides ME, Veah.
Your family, your kingdom, and the entire world hate you.
Your only saving grace has been your parents not wanting to get their hands dirty with your blood,
but we both know that would be a better fate than to be left to DIE…
OVER AND OVER AGAIN.
COMING BACK LIKE A STRAY, DISEASED DOG.
What crimes have you committed? Being born?
If they want to believe you are a monster, then become one.
There is no love for you in this world. Use their hate to FUEL YOU.
USE YOUR HATE TO ASCEND BEYOND THEIR WILDEST IMAGINATION.
THIS WORLD IS OURS.

Thank you for believing in me when no one else has...​

This was the belief Veah carried. If she couldn't have love, then she would have power. Driven by an insatiable hunger for power, her heart and mind grew dark. With the cold resolve of Xemva and a sword she had mastered to survive, she turned on her own family, cutting them down and seizing control. Her reign of pain and misery knew no bounds, as she sought to etch her own suffering into the fabric of the world and its history. But... would it ever be enough? Could she ever be sated? She was caught in a void of violent whispers and cold emptiness that only seemed to grow.

Almost all morality was ripped from the empress at a young age, with the only hints of humanity that remained in her were hidden behind the influence of Xemva and just knowing everyone hated her anyway. She made sure of it. She wasn't just slaughtering and taking over nations that were innocent; THEY HATED HER, AND SO SHE WOULD SHOW THEM THE REAL WRATH OF HATE.​

---

Floara also fell victim to the empress' hate. Everyone was a foe; everyone was born with seeds of hate for her, so she had no problem sending her army to turn Floara's streets and fields red with blood and fire.

She was also there to help paint it all red. While too valuable to be on the front lines, Veah had a taste for blood ever since she slaughtered her family. So, every so often she joined her army on the battlefield in an attempt to feel something. To help fill that aching emptiness and to appease the goddess, who would tap on her brain if she were to ignore her call for too long.

Only those that were spared were those that could provide worth to the empire. Those with skills, knowledge, or even political pull. However, the rest were useless. If anything, keeping them alive would only be keeping more soon-to-be rebels alive. No one accepted Veah in any sense of the way besides the loyalists and those who wanted to keep their lives, so she would need to influence the next generation. A generation born to fear her and worship Xemva. She didn't even want the love of her people, but she would make sure that she had the upper hand and RESPECT in a world full of hate and pain.​

---

A heavy sigh escaped the empress when given the newest report about her general. After she heard about his success, she was pleased to know that the matter was handled as he promised. He sent a clear message that rebels would not be tolerated, especially in the capital. She had figured after he had already taken down one general who had gone rogue, he might as well expand and continue to deal with those who were trying to betray her.

She had been wondering if he would be too bold again about his prize; how she could prevent him from bringing tears to her eyes once more, but it would be something she didn't have to worry about; he never came for any kind of reward. Not even a material request; it was strange. It went against human nature. The fact he went against so many different expectations and assumptions continued to drive her interest in him. She couldn't figure him out… and she loved it as much as she hated it.​

But...
Did he really think he could get away from her?
He would have to face her if he was ready to or not.
HE HAD NO CHOICE.​

"Draft a plan, but you are to run it by me first." She rose from her seat, smoothing out her black dress with open slits that showed off her shapely thighs and legs. "I will go to the gardens and speak to him myself." She bit the inside of her cheek. "I should slaughter him for making ME go to HIM." For a moment, she saw red, and Xemva's desire for pain and death toyed with her impulses. If she brought a weapon with her, she might actually slit his throat.

"Clear the gardens when I speak to him." She ordered before taking her leave towards the well-maintained gardens. She hadn't lied when she said she liked flowers as well. Her garden had many flowers from different regions that could survive in a different temperament. Many flowers represented different lands she had taken over. She enjoyed how, despite how beautiful and delicate flowers were, they could also be fatal, piercing, and survive harsh conditions. She found them inspiring and even relatable. Some flowers only bloomed when they suffered, which reminded her of her growth as she went from rags to riches.

He would know she was near, not only from the click of her heels but also the strange billow of cold air that usually followed her. "Tyre, you are quite good at infuriating me." She crossed her arms under her bust, her weight shifting to her left foot. "You were successful in your mission, proving it was an even more critical one than I had even thought, and then you insult me by not accepting any reward from me? Not gold, wine, a request, or passion?" While she was a cruel woman, she did intend to reward him; she wanted him to continue to exercise and prove his loyalty to her.

"Explain yourself." Her eyes narrowed on his form. "What is it that you want, Tyre? Truly." The more she understood this man, the more she could use him properly. The more she could reward him. Predict him. Control him.​