Chapter ~ Serpents Bite

The bathwater had long since gone cold, yet Nofri-it did not move.

His fingers traced absent patterns against the edge of the black stone pool, his mind a tangle of past and present. The ghost of Azech-I's voice still echoed in his ears, his presence lingering in the air like a curse.

"A bath does not wash away betrayal, little serpent."

The words should have ignited fury in his chest, should have reminded him of everything he had lost, everything he had suffered. Yet, all he felt was exhaustion—a bone-deep weariness that even hatred could not ease.

The collar at his throat was heavy.

Not in weight.

But in meaning.

A golden shackle, crafted for a prisoner who once believed he could be free.

Five years ago. Thebes...

"You are still awake."

Nofri-it turned from the open balcony, the warm Theban breeze stirring the sheer silk of his robes. Azech-I stood in the doorway of their chambers, his hair slightly disheveled, the fabric of his tunic loose around his collarbone.

He had not worn his crown tonight.

The sight was almost enough to make Nofri-it smile. Almost.

"I could not sleep," he murmured.

Azech-I's gaze flickered over him, sharp and assessing. Then, without another word, he crossed the distance between them, stepping onto the balcony with effortless grace.

The city stretched before them—Thebes, bathed in silver moonlight, alive even in the dead of night. Merchants still whispered in darkened alleys, guards patrolled the sandstone streets, and the river glowed beneath the stars.

It was beautiful.

It was a kingdom Nofri-it had been sent to destroy.

Azech-I exhaled slowly. "Tell me what troubles you."

Nofri-it hesitated.

Lies. He had told so many lies. Each one had tasted bitter on his tongue, yet Azech-I had believed them all.

It would be so easy.

So easy to say nothing.

So easy to keep playing this game until the dagger finally met its mark.

But something in Azech-I's gaze, in the quiet way he stood beside him, made the words slip past his lips before he could stop them.

"Do you believe in fate?"

Azech-I did not answer immediately. Instead, he reached forward, brushing a loose strand of hair from Nofri-it's face with an aching sort of tenderness.

"No," he murmured. "I believe in power. In choice."

His fingers lingered against Nofri-it's cheek.

"If the gods have written our destinies, then I will rewrite mine."

The breath caught in Nofri-it's throat.

A declaration. A promise.

And for the first time in his life, doubt curled in his chest like a snake.

Could he do it?

Could he truly kill this man?

Present Day...

The slap echoed through the chamber.

Sharp. Sudden.

Azech-I's head barely tilted from the impact. He stood before him, eyes dark with something unreadable. Not anger. Not surprise.

Amusement.

Nofri-it's palm still burned from the force of the strike, but he did not lower his hand.

"I am not your pet." His voice did not waver, though his heart pounded violently in his chest. "Do not touch me as if I am."

Azech-I chuckled, low and slow, a sound that sent ice through Nofri-it's veins.

And then, in the next breath, fingers curled around his throat—not choking, not squeezing, but a silent warning. A reminder.

"That fire of yours," Azech-I murmured, his grip tightening just enough to make Nofri-it shudder. "Shall I snuff it out? Or shall I let it burn until you have nothing left?"

Nofri-it swallowed hard, refusing to look away.

Azech-I leaned closer, his breath warm against his ear.

"You once swore you would never kneel before me."

His thumb brushed over the golden collar.

"We shall see."

Then, just as quickly as he had touched him, he released him.

Nofri-it did not move as Azech-I strode toward the doors, the scent of myrrh and incense trailing in his wake.

He did not speak.

Did not react.

Only when the doors shut behind the emperor did he allow himself to breathe.

And the golden chains weighed heavier than before.

The silence in the grand chamber was suffocating.

Nofri-it remained where he stood, his hand curled around the golden collar at his throat, fingers pressing into the metal as if he could rip it away with sheer will. But he knew better.

Azech-I had crafted this prison too well.

The sound of the doors closing still echoed in his mind, yet the phantom touch of Azech-I's fingers on his skin burned hotter. Every interaction between them had become a battle—a push and pull of dominance and defiance. And yet, beneath it all, a dangerous undercurrent stirred.

One that threatened to pull him under.

Five years ago...

The halls of the royal palace were silent at this hour. Most of the guards had been dismissed, their loyalty to Azech-I absolute. It had made Nofri-it's mission simpler.

No witnesses.

No obstacles.

Only a single target.

His fingers tightened around the dagger hidden beneath the folds of his silk robe. The weight of it was a cruel comfort, a reminder of his purpose. He had not come to Thebes to indulge in stolen moments beneath a moonlit sky, to listen to a king whisper of power and rewritten fates.

He had come to end a life.

He stepped into the chamber.

Azech-I lay on his side, his chest rising and falling in the rhythm of deep sleep, the golden glow of the oil lamps casting long shadows against the carved walls. The scent of myrrh lingered in the air, mingling with the faintest trace of something uniquely him.

Nofri-it hesitated.

He had killed before. He had ended lives without a second thought, without remorse.

Yet as he stood over Azech-I's sleeping form, the dagger trembled in his grip.

A choice lay before him.

And for the first time, Nofri-it faltered.

Present Day...

"Eat."

Nofri-it barely lifted his gaze.

The plate before him was filled with delicacies from Thebes—roasted lamb, figs drenched in honey, spiced lentils, and fresh bread. The finest meal fit for an honored guest.

Yet the chains around his wrists told a different story.

Azech-I sat at the head of the grand dining hall, his golden jewelry catching the firelight, his gaze unreadable as he studied him. Around them, the nobility of Thebes whispered behind jeweled hands, eyes flickering toward the omega prince who had once dared to defy their emperor.

But Nofri-it had no shame left to give them.

He lifted his cup, bringing the rim to his lips, letting the wine spill into his mouth—sweet, rich, laced with something far more dangerous than any poison.

Azech-I's amusement flickered.

"You still believe I would kill you so easily?"

Nofri-it lowered the cup. "You have already killed me, Azech-I."

A silence settled between them.

A silence filled with five years of wounds, of stolen choices, of a bond that had never been severed, no matter how deep the blade had cut.

Then, with the slow, deliberate grace of a ruler who had already won, Azech-I leaned forward.

"I have not even begun."

And Nofri-it knew, with chilling certainty, that he spoke the truth.