Survival over pride
The hall was quiet. Too quiet.
Mira sat on the black throne, back straight. Her robes spilled down the steps like dark waves. The gold crown felt heavy, but her face showed nothing—no joy, no grief. Just calm.
The people below didn’t dare to move. Ministers, generals, nobles—they all stood frozen.
Every eye in the room stayed down. Every head bowed—not for her, but to the dead king. Their savior. Their hero.
Some looked at her with fear. Others with hate. But no one spoke. No one even breathed too loud.
Her amber eyes slowly scanned the room. The air grew thick. Heavy.
She let the silence grow until it was loud enough to choke them.
Finally, her voice broke through the silence.
That wasn’t a request. That was a command.
.
Mira Veyra -
on your knees
This time a few shifted uneasily, but most remained frozen—knees pressed to marble, fists clenched tight. It wasn’t respect. It wasn’t fear. It was defiance.
Mira Veyra -
Her lips curved—barely. “You all look surprised”
A murmur rippled through the hall. Someone finally gathered courage.
General
You… you’ve seized the throne by bloodshed. Do you expect loyalty, Your Majesty?” The last words dripped with venom.
Mira’s lips curved—barely.but,It wasn’t a smile.
Mira Veyra -
"Loyalty?" she chuckled.
Mira Veyra -
Not loyalty. I expect silence and obedience
She rose, while her black and red robes flowing along with the throne which belongs to her.
Mira Veyra -
This empire is mine—not because I demanded it, but because I took it
She stepped down the dais, her boots echoing loud in the deathly hall.
For a moment, the hall felt like a battlefield.
Pride clashed with fear. Conscience fought against survival. Hands tightened into fists. Jaws locked.
Then her voice rang out, sharp as a blade.
Mira Veyra -
“Head down…” She paused, voice like ice. "…or heads down. You decide.”
The words hit them like a hammer. The air grew heavy.
Survival won. Knees gave way. Heads lowered.
Before they knelt, the hall felt like a battlefield for a moment. Some felt pride and looked down on Mira because she was a woman, thinking she shouldn’t rule. Others fought with fear, knowing they needed to survive. A few held onto patriotism and loyalty for their dead king, keeping his memory alive. Their conscience battled the need to stay alive. Hands clenched into tight fists, jaws tightened as they struggled with their choices. Finally, they all bowed—not out of respect, but to save their own lives or the lives of their loved ones, like family and friends.
Generals. Ministers. Proud men who once stood tall—now on their knees.
Mira watched quietly as the last man’s head touched the cold floor.
She turned, her crimson robes swirling like fire, and climbed the throne again. Her voice echoed across the silent hall
Mira Veyra -
Bring me the royal seal. Let the world know…
Her fingers curled around the throne’s armrest.
Mira Veyra -
This empire has a new ruler
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