Chapter 2: Emperor's Plaything

"Fear bends the weak. But to the strong, it is only a chain waiting to be broken."

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The air between them was thick with silence.

Seraphina could feel it—the weight of their stares, the anticipation dripping from the watching nobles like venom.

The foreign princess who dared to defy the Emperor.

Xavien Draethis did not move from his throne, nor did he speak. But his gaze sharpened. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his golden eyes.

Then, he did something unexpected.

He laughed.

Soft. Amused. Lethal.

It was not the laugh of a man entertained—it was the laugh of a man who had just found something unexpected in the middle of a battlefield.

The court stilled.

Even Seraphina felt a chill dance down her spine.

"You believe you have a choice, Empress?" His voice was smooth, deep, and tainted with warning.

Seraphina's smile didn't falter. She tilted her head, her fiery red hair catching the glow of the chandeliers. "Do I not?"

Another silence.

Then—he stood.

And the room shuddered.

Xavien Draethis did not need magic to command a room. His mere presence was enough. Power clung to him like a second skin. He moved slowly, deliberately, descending the steps of his throne like a predator toying with its prey.

Seraphina did not step back.

But she could feel it now—why they feared him.

It wasn't just his magic, nor his intelligence, nor his brutal reputation.

It was the way he unraveled people.

Piece by piece. Thought by thought.

Xavien came to a stop before her. He was taller than she expected, his presence so absolute that it was suffocating.

Then, his hand lifted.

A single gloved finger traced the edge of her jaw, slow, deliberate, possessive.

She did not flinch.

But she also knew—this was not affection.

It was a warning.

"You misunderstand something, Seraphina Draethis," he murmured, low, sharp, unyielding.

Her name on his tongue felt like a chain wrapping around her throat.

"You are not here as my equal. You are here because I allow it."

The words sent a ripple of discomfort through the court. Even they knew it was a lie.

Seraphina had not been given to him.

She had been sent because Elyssar feared him. Because their kingdom could not afford his wrath.

She was a political offering. A bargaining piece.

And yet…

Seraphina only smiled wider.

"And yet, Your Majesty, here I stand—unbowed."

His eyes darkened.

For the first time, something shifted in his expression.

He was not used to this.

Not used to someone standing against him.

Not used to not being feared.

A flicker of something crossed his face. Not anger. Not amusement.

Just… something else.

Then—his hand dropped.

The tension in the room snapped like a pulled string.

Xavien turned, his cloak billowing behind him as he moved away. Dismissive. Indifferent.

"Take her to the east wing," he ordered coldly.

The east wing.

The furthest part of the palace. Away from the main courts. Away from him.

It was a message.

You are unwanted.

But Seraphina did not let the insult show.

Instead, she curtsied—mockingly perfect.

"As you command, Your Majesty."

And with that, the game truly began.