chap14,Conquering the Dark Elven Queen
Chapter 14: Conquering the Dark Elven Queen
The night at the Dark Elven palace was as deep as ink. The silver moonlight poured through the carved window lattice, casting a cold yet mysterious glow upon the obsidian floor. The entire palace was silent, as if even the air carried a suffocating stillness.
In this silent night, a finely carved palace door was slowly pushed open.
He stepped inside, the door behind him closing gently, sealing off the outside world's noise.
Beneath the throne, the once-proud Dark Elven Queen remained as poised and distant as ever. She sat quietly on a seat sculpted from obsidian, her violet eyes shimmering with an unfathomable light under the flickering flames—like a deep abyss impossible to gaze through.
However, he knew she was far from calm beneath the surface.
Since her defeat and capture, since she became a "guest" within this palace, her pride had already shattered. Yet, she still stubbornly clung to her last defense, unwilling to admit her new reality.
But he was not in a hurry.
—Conquest was not merely about brute force.
Broken Pride
"It's late. Why are you still awake?" His voice was deep and lazy, carrying a hint of teasing amusement.
The Dark Elven Queen frowned slightly, raising her gaze to him with cold indifference. "You dare trespass into my chambers? Do you not fear that I will order your expulsion?"
He chuckled, taking a few unhurried steps forward, hands casually at his sides as he openly observed her.
"Do your 'orders' still hold any weight?"
His words were indifferent, yet they struck directly at her most vulnerable wound.
Her fingers tensed slightly, a flicker of unwillingness flashing in her eyes, but in the end, she did not refute him.
Yes, she no longer had the right to command anyone. The once-mighty kingdom that had inspired fear across the land was no longer hers to rule. She was merely a defeated queen, her authority reduced to an empty title.
But she still refused to bow.
She let out a soft scoff, her gaze sharp as a blade. "Then tell me—why are you here?"
He stepped closer, narrowing the space between them until only a few steps remained. Looking down at her, his voice carried an unmistakable hint of amusement.
"You already know the answer."
Her heart clenched.
She wasn't foolish—of course, she knew his intent.
But she refused to acknowledge it.
Admitting it would mean accepting that she was no longer just his prisoner—but something far more intimate.
"I am not your trophy." She spoke softly, her voice laced with suppressed defiance.
He smiled and shook his head. "No, you're not a trophy."
He leaned down, grasping her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look directly into his eyes.
"You are my queen."
Her pupils contracted slightly, her heartbeat skipping for a brief moment.
—"My queen."
Those two words shook her far more than any insult could.
She should be furious. She should slap his hand away and sneer at his arrogance.
But she couldn't.
She remained frozen, feeling the warmth of his fingers against her skin, sensing the undeniable dominance in his gaze.
A feeling she had never experienced before crept into her heart.
The Meaning of Conquest
"You seek to conquer me?" she asked softly, her voice trembling in a way she did not notice herself.
He released her chin, straightening up as he gazed down at her. "Conquest is never one-sided."
She blinked in confusion, furrowing her brows slightly.
He chuckled, his voice carrying a cryptic undertone. "You'll understand soon enough."
Then, he turned and walked towards the chamber doors, his movements calm and unhurried.
She remained seated, staring after him, unable to compose herself for a long time.
She should hate him—hate his arrogance, his dominance, his effortless destruction of everything she once held dear.
So why did she feel an unshakable pull towards him instead?
His figure disappeared beyond the door, leaving behind only silence.
But her heart was no longer as serene as before.
A Battle of Hearts
Days passed.
Late at night, the palace was draped in silence once more.
The Dark Elven Queen sat alone in her chamber, her violet gaze fixated on the flickering candlelight. The flames danced, reflecting in her eyes, yet failing to dispel the turmoil within her.
His words echoed relentlessly in her mind—
"You are my queen."
That sentence clung to her thoughts like a hook, refusing to let go.
She had never imagined herself in such a position.
To be conquered—not just in battle, but in spirit.
She hated the way she caught herself waiting for his presence.
She hated how her pulse quickened at the mere thought of him.
She hated that, in the dead of night, she would recall his every movement and word.
But most of all—
She feared meeting him again.
Feared not seeing him.
She scoffed at herself for such ridiculous contradictions.
And yet, as she wrestled with her own thoughts, the great doors of her chamber were pushed open once again.
Familiar footsteps echoed through the still air, stepping closer.
Her breath hitched.
She snapped her gaze up.
He stood at the entrance, his figure illuminated by the flickering candlelight, his expression calm, a faint smile playing at his lips.
"Still awake?" His voice was deep, magnetic, effortlessly drawing her attention.
She forced herself to regain composure, her tone cold as ever. "That is none of your concern."
He arched a brow, stepping forward until he stood before her.
"If it concerns me, then it is my concern."
She stiffened, lips pressing into a thin line.
His fingers reached out, tilting her chin up once more, his smirk deepening. "Then why are you blushing?"
Her breath caught.
Instinctively, she tried to swat his hand away—but his grip, though light, was unyielding.
Furious, she glared at him, desperately clinging to her remaining pride. "Let me go."
He didn't.
Instead, he leaned closer, his voice lowering into a near whisper.
"Do you truly refuse to admit it?"
Her breathing became erratic.
That voice—low, teasing, carrying an undeniable authority—sent shivers down her spine.
She should push him away.
She should reject him.
But—
She found herself unable to move.
True Submission
Time seemed to freeze.
He finally loosened his grip, yet he did not step back. Their proximity remained unchanged—his unwavering gaze locking onto hers.
"If you truly despise me, push me away." His voice was quiet, challenging.
Her fingers trembled slightly.
Could she?
She wanted to.
She truly did.
But she couldn't.
She hated her own weakness, hated how easily he had shaken her defenses. Hated that, no matter how she tried to deceive herself, her heart had already begun to falter.
She drew in a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut as if making a final decision.
And then—
She did something even she had not expected.
Slowly, hesitantly, she reached out—her fingertips grazing his sleeve, gripping it lightly.
A slight tremor in her fingers betrayed her inner turmoil.
But in the end—
She made her choice.
He blinked, then let out a soft chuckle.
Reaching out, he pulled her into his embrace, his palm gently resting against her back.
"This is how it should be," he murmured, his voice deep and velvety. "There's no need to fight it anymore."
Her cheek pressed against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. A myriad of emotions flashed through her eyes.
She had lost.
Not just the war, but the battle within herself.
And yet—
Had she truly lost?
She lifted her gaze, meeting his.
His eyes burned with something intense, unwavering.
At that moment, pride, resistance, and past grievances melted into nothingness.
She no longer fought.
She no longer denied.
And this night, in the depths of the Dark Elven Palace, a silent conquest reached its completion.