Behind Closed Doors
Night, Lysara’s chambers.
The fire flickers low, casting long shadows. Her son sleeps nearby.
The door opened before Lysara could speak.
He entered like a storm—silent, inevitable, impossible to ignore.
She kept her gaze fixed on the fire, pretending the heat could burn away what was coming.
He closed the door with a deliberate click, stepping close enough for her to feel the weight of him.
She met his gaze finally, and it was like staring into a flame that could consume or consume her.
Lysara
“You parade me like a trophy,” Lysara said quietly. “In front of your queen, your court—”
King Vaeron
He cut her off with a slow, fierce smile. “You’re mine. Not a trophy. Not a secret. Mine.”
He closed the distance between them, his breath warm on her skin.
King Vaeron
“I waited years for this,” he murmured, his voice thick with something that wasn’t just power. “For you. For our son.”
Lysara
“You promised you could free me from the marriage.”
Lysara
“Yet I was still sent away the next dawn!”
King Vaeron
“I was powerless at that time.. but I tried..”
Lysara
“All you did was made love with me and whispered promises I had waited for four years to happen”
Lysara
“I was pregnant before I consummated my first night with my arranged husband.. do you know what that looked like..?? I was the princess for god’s sake”
Lysara
“Thank lord I was in higher status than him and never questioned my pregnancy.. but the people..”
Vaeron didn’t interrupt.. listen to her fury quietly and patiently
Deep down he knew he was guilty for her agony
Lysara
“People gotten suspicious and questioned me when my son I birthed didn’t resemble like my husband.. his dark hair was ruby-like eyes resemble another man from distant past.. I had suffered humiliation, mockery each day I was there..”
Lysara
“But you at least my husband wasn’t so bad.. he was a good man.. he accepted me even with my flaws.. he accepted a boy wasn’t his own”
Lysara
“Then what?! You had to ruin it all! Why?!! “
Lysara
“I was just getting by.. happy and peacefully..”
His hand found her waist, strong and possessive, pulling her closer.
Lysara
“I never asked to come back!!”
King Vaeron
“No,” he agreed, “but you did. With my son.
Lysara
“I hate you…” the words came out slower than she wanted
King Vaeron
“Don’t pretend you’re not what I want,” he said, lips dangerously close to hers. “Every moment I denied myself was agony.”
She trembled but didn’t pull away.
Lysara
“I don’t care whatever you felt..!”
King Vaeron
His eyes darkened. “You think I brought you here to play at court? To hide behind titles?”
Lysara
“No,” she breathed.
King Vaeron
“I claim what was always meant to be mine,” he said, his hand sliding from her waist to her hip, his fingers digging in gently, demanding attention.
He leaned down, brushing his lips over her jaw with possessive heat.
King Vaeron
“Our son will carry my blood, my name. He will be the throne.”
King Vaeron
“And you,” he said, voice dropping lower still, “will ensure he never forgets who owns him. Who owns you.”
He pressed closer, a magnetic force drawing her in despite every part of her that screamed to resist.
His hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back just enough.
King Vaeron
“I want you,” he whispered against her skin. “All of you. Your pain, your fire, your blood.”
She closed her eyes, the weight of him—his desire, his control—washing over her in a dizzying tide.
King Vaeron
“You don’t have a choice,” he said fiercely, “because you are mine. And I will claim you—completely.”
She opened her mouth—but his mouth was already brushing hers, not kissing, just claiming space. His voice dropped to a whisper.
King Vaeron
“You don’t belong to him <her husband>. You never did.”
His hand slid to her hip, the pressure firm, steady. She could feel the restraint in him—how hard he was holding himself back.
King Vaeron
“I will leave,” he said. “And come back tomorrow.”
His lips grazed her temple.
She swallowed, but her body betrayed her. She leaned in, just slightly.
The fire crackled behind them.
His fingers slipped to the laces at the back of her gown. Still not forcing. Just waiting. Testing her silence.
And when the gown fell, pooling at her feet, Lysara did not look away.
Because deep down—beneath the fear, beneath the fury—she knew:
She wasn’t the one being conquered.
She was the one he’d conquered an empire for.
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