chapter 10

chapter 10

The chamber was heavy with the scent of spiced wine, melting candles, and the lingering perfume of the women who had danced for him. Their laughter had long since faded, but the faint echoes still clung to the air like ghosts.

King Tommen sat at the edge of his grand bed, wine goblet in hand, staring at nothing. His fingers tapped against the metal cup, his thoughts elsewhere. He had drunk enough to dull his senses, yet his mind remained sharp, haunted by the events of the day.

Then the doors burst open.

A gust of cold air followed as Esmeralda strode in, her emerald-green gown flowing like liquid silk, her presence demanding attention. The remaining maids flinched at her arrival, their faces paling. Without a word, she lifted a single hand, a dismissive flick of her fingers.

"Leave."

The maids scattered like frightened mice, the last one barely managing to shut the door behind her. The room was now silent, save for the crackling fire.

Tommen sighed and reached for the wine jug.

Esmeralda smirked. "Drinking away your humiliation, I see."

He ignored her, pouring himself another drink.

She walked around him slowly, her fingers dragging lazily across the table, the edge of his chair, his shoulder. "I heard about what happened at court today."

Tommen's grip on his goblet tightened, but still, he did not speak.

She clicked her tongue. "It must have been frustrating, watching the witch rob you of the satisfaction you so desperately craved." She leaned in, whispering near his ear, "To die on her terms rather than yours."

Tommen exhaled sharply, his fingers twitching against the goblet.

Esmeralda laughed softly, circling him like a predator. "Tell me, my king. Why the obsession?" Her voice was smooth, laced with something dangerous. "We all despise witches, but you-" she smirked, eyes gleaming-"you hunt them as if they haunt your very soul."

Tommen said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes.

Her smirk widened. "Ah. Could it be guilt?"

His jaw clenched.

She leaned against the chair beside him, her sharp nails dragging against the wood. "Yes, guilt. That must be it. You're not just hunting witches. You're atoning for something, aren't you?"

Tommen's breath came a little heavier. His grip on his goblet tightened until the metal strained beneath his fingers.

Esmeralda tilted her head, watching him like a cat with a wounded bird. "Right," she continued, her voice dripping with false innocence, "you sacrificed your own flesh and blood to one, didn't you?"

The goblet clattered to the floor.

In a flash, Tommen hurled a cup across the room. It shattered against the door with a thundering crash.

"Shut up," he growled.

Esmeralda merely smiled. She thrived on this-the fire in his eyes, the anger barely contained.

Slowly, she crouched in front of him, her expression shifting into something softer. More vulnerable. "I have always loved you," she whispered, brushing a hand through his hair. "But you never noticed me. You were too busy chasing ghosts."

Tommen knocked her hand away.

Her lips curled. "You always wanted her, didn't you?"

His breathing was heavy now, his body tense.

"Celine."

A snarl left his lips. "Don't say her name."

Esmeralda's smile widened. "Why? Because she was a witch?" She reached forward again, this time gripping his tunic and yanking him closer. "Or because you loved her despite that?"

Tommen's patience snapped.

In one swift motion, he grabbed her and crushed his lips against hers. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It was desperate. Violent.

Esmeralda moaned against his lips as he pulled her onto him, his hands rough, almost punishing. Their bodies pressed together, tangled in a frantic haze of passion and anger.

She let him take what he needed, let him use her as a way to drown out whatever demons haunted him. And gods, did she enjoy it.

Their clothes came undone, falling in a heap on the cold stone floor. Tommen pushed her onto the edge of his bed, his body pinning hers down, claiming her like she was the answer to a question he didn't want to ask.

Esmeralda arched beneath him, nails digging into his back, savoring every bite, every bruise he left on her skin. He was rough, driven by something deeper than desire. She knew it wasn't her he was thinking about. It was Celine. It was always Celine.

And yet, she didn't care.

Not until-

"Celine," he groaned, shuddering against her.

Esmeralda froze.

For a moment, the entire world stopped.

Tommen slumped forward, his breath hot against her neck, his weight heavy on top of her. He was spent, lost in whatever illusion he had conjured in his mind.

Esmeralda lay beneath him, her face blank.

Then, slowly, her fingers curled into fists.

Carefully, she pushed his unconscious form off her. He rolled onto his back, his breathing even, lost in drunken sleep.

Esmeralda sat up, her body bare, her hair wild. She turned to him, her gaze dark, unreadable.

Her hand twitched toward his throat.

For a brief moment, she considered it. She imagined squeezing. Ending him.

But then-

Her expression softened.

Instead, she ran a hand through his hair, her fingers gentle. She leaned in, her lips barely grazing his ear.

"I'm going to make you forget that witch."

She lay back down beside him, a victorious smile curling her lips.

Tommen might not have noticed her before.

But soon-

He would never be able to ignore her again.

THE NEXT MORNING

The morning sun bled through the grand windows of Tommen's chambers, casting golden rays over the tangled sheets. The scent of spiced wine and sweat lingered in the air.

Tommen stirred, his head pounding, his body aching with the weight of too much drink and too many regrets. He blinked, his vision clearing, and turned-only to find Esmeralda lying beside him, her bare form partially covered by the silk sheets.

Disgust coiled in his gut.

He clenched his jaw, dragging a hand down his face before calling for the maids.

When they arrived, he paid no mind to Esmeralda, his focus solely on getting dressed. He had made his decision. Today, he would go hunting with the kings he had selected-a much-needed distraction.

As the maids adjusted his cloak, a soft sigh sounded from the bed.

Esmeralda stirred, reaching for him in the space beside her, but her fingers met only cold sheets. She lifted her head, her brown hair spilling over her bare shoulders, and found him standing near the mirror, being dressed.

Her eyes softened, love shining in them as she watched him.

A slow, satisfied smile graced her lips. "You look dashing as always," she said, her voice warm.

Tommen didn't respond.

The maids finished their work, adjusting the final clasps before bowing and leaving the room. Silence lingered between them.

Esmeralda rose gracefully from the bed, completely unbothered by her nakedness. She crossed the room, her bare feet silent against the marble floor.

Just as she reached for him, her fingers barely grazing his shoulder, Tommen's grip snapped around her wrist.

With a sharp tug, he tossed her away from him.

Esmeralda stumbled slightly but caught herself, turning back to him with an amused smile.

"If you're done being shameless, put some clothes on," he said coldly, straightening his cuffs. "You're a queen."

Her smile didn't waver. If anything, it grew.

She stepped closer again, slow and deliberate. "Why?" she whispered, tilting her head. "Is it because you're afraid you won't be able to control yourself?"

Her fingers trailed over his shoulders, her touch light, teasing.

Tommen met her gaze with pure revulsion. "No," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "You disgust me."

He turned without another word, heading for the door.

Behind him, Esmeralda let out a breathless laugh. "That's not what you said yesterday," she called, her voice laced with mockery.

Tommen didn't stop. He didn't look back.

And as the door shut behind him, Esmeralda stood alone, her smile lingering-sharp, knowing, triumphant.

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