Perfect. I understand exactly what you want: a longer
Ruria had not slept since the night of her marriage. Her body ached from the strange mixture of fear and desire that Vaelor had stirred within her, and her mind refused rest. She wandered through the halls of his castle, every step echoing like a warning. The torches on the walls flickered, casting shadows that seemed alive, bending and stretching as if to watch her. Every corner held a memory of death, power, and conquest.
She stopped at the edge of the hall where the heads of the fallen kings were displayed. Her gaze lingered on each one, but it was Vaelor's own hand that made her shiver. Not a single general, not a single ally, had assisted him in his campaigns. He had conquered half the known world alone. Kingdoms had fallen under the weight of his will, armies shattered without ever seeing his sword, cities burned without a single messenger daring to oppose him. Ruria's fingers trembled as she traced the edge of the pedestal holding one of the monarchs. She had thought she understood fear. She had thought she could predict danger. She had been wrong.
"You are staring too long," a voice said from the shadows.
Ruria turned, her eyes wide, and found him standing there. Vaelor, impossibly tall and imposing, white hair spilling over his shoulders, crimson eyes fixed upon her. He moved silently, his presence alone making her shiver.
"I am… just… admiring the… collection," she stammered, unable to tear her gaze from the gruesome display.
Vaelor's smile was faint, almost cruel. "Admiring? Or imagining what it would feel like to face me alone?"
She felt her knees weaken. "Y-you… you did all this… by yourself?"
He stepped closer, the air growing heavier with each of his movements. "Yes. I conquered half the world alone. Not a single ally, not a single knight, not a single servant of fate dared to stand against me and live. The world feared me before it even knew my name. I am the storm that swallowed continents. And you… you are standing here, in the center of it."
Ruria's chest tightened. Her heart pounded, caught between terror and a strange fascination. She had read about men who wielded power like this, men who destroyed everything in their path. She had never imagined she would meet one, let alone stand before him.
Vaelor's gaze dropped to her trembling hands. "You shiver," he observed, almost softly, "but it is not from cold."
Ruria bit her lip, words failing her. His presence was suffocating, magnetic, and terrifying all at once.
"You should not fear me," he said, stepping even closer, his voice low and velvet-dark. "Fear me, yes. But do not forget that you are mine now."
She swallowed hard. "I… I understand."
He crouched slightly, so that his face was level with hers. His red eyes searched her, reading her fear, her curiosity, and something deeper that even she had not yet understood. "Tell me," he murmured, "do you wish to remain only my wife? Or do you wish to be more? A lover, a companion, a shadow at my side, a queen of what is mine?"
Ruria's mind whirled. She had said wife, yes, but hearing the question aloud, seeing the depth of his intent, she felt the weight of it pressing against her chest. "I… I want to be your wife," she said, her voice firmer now, though trembling still. "But I… I want to learn what it means to be by your side."
Vaelor's lips curved in something like approval, but sharper, more dangerous. "By my side," he repeated. "You must understand, there is no ordinary life for those who walk beside me. You will see death, power, despair, and desire. You will see the world through my eyes. And if you falter…" His hand brushed hers, gentle yet commanding. "You will understand fear as it should be felt."
Her body shivered again, this time from the brush of his hand and the promise in his words. "I… I will not falter," she whispered.
He leaned closer, their foreheads almost touching. "Good," he said softly. "Because I intend to test you. To challenge you. To bind you not just to me, but to the storm of my life."
Ruria's pulse raced. "Bind me?" she asked, her voice trembling, caught between excitement and dread.
Vaelor's hand traced a line from her jaw to her shoulder. "The rings," he said, "were only the beginning. Magic binds, yes, but it is the mind and heart that must endure. If you survive me, Ruria, then nothing in this world will ever have power over you again."
She swallowed, feeling a mixture of fear and something else—something she could not name. "And if I fail?"
Vaelor's gaze softened slightly, almost imperceptibly, but the danger in his eyes remained. "Then you will know what it is to be wholly consumed. To be utterly mine in every sense."
She shivered again, this time not just from fear, but from the magnetic pull of his presence. His dominance, his strength, the sheer scope of the power he wielded alone, pressed down on her. She was terrified. And she could not look away.
He led her through the castle, showing her corridors lined with trophies of conquest, rooms where magical artifacts glowed with the residual energy of battles long past, and chambers where demons he had defeated lay enchanted, bound in silence. "Do not look away," he said softly, "for all of this is the proof of what I am. And you are to stand with me."
Ruria's legs shook beneath her, yet she followed, unable to resist the strange mixture of fear and fascination that his presence inspired.
They reached a chamber unlike the others. It was small, intimate, yet opulent, filled with the warmth of soft candlelight. Vaelor closed the door behind them and turned to face her. "Here," he said, "we will begin again. Not with war, not with death, but with what comes next."
He held out his hand. "Take it," he said. "And let me teach you everything."
Ruria hesitated for the briefest moment, then placed her hand in his. The warmth of his grip, the electricity of the magic that lingered in the air, made her head swim.
"You are mine, Ruria," Vaelor whispered, his lips brushing hers. "And I intend to make you feel the weight, the power, and the ecstasy of it."
Her breath caught. "I… I am yours," she said, almost trembling. "Entirely."
He smiled then, a dangerous, intoxicating expression, and pulled her close. "Good," he murmured. "Because soon, you will learn that fear, love, and power are one and the same with me. And when you do… you will understand why I conquered the world alone, why no one dared oppose me, and why you now belong to me entirely."
Ruria's heart pounded, her body trembling not just from the weight of his presence but from the promise in his words. She had thought marriage would protect her, but with Vaelor, it had made her enter the eye of the storm itself. And yet, for reasons she could not name, she did not want to leave.
He brought her close again, and their lips met in a kiss that was not gentle but deliberate, claiming, consuming. The magic of their union, the power of the rings, the very aura of Vaelor himself pressed into her mind and body, and she gasped, trembling in both terror and exhilaration.
"You will survive this," Vaelor whispered into her ear. "You will learn to stand with me, to walk beside me. And you will love me, Ruria, even as the world trembles beneath my power."
She shivered again, caught between fear and desire, and realized with a sudden clarity that she already did. She was beginning to love the Emperor of Ash and Ivory. She was beginning to belong to him in every way.
And Vaelor, for all his solitary conquest and terrifying might, had chosen to share it with her.
In that moment, Ruria understood that the world would never be safe again, and neither would she. And yet, standing in the warmth of his dangerous embrace, she would not have it any other way.