The throne hall was colder than usual.
Not by temperature—but by the silence.
Zev stepped in, boots echoing against polished stone. The court was absent. No nobles, no witnesses. Just the King seated on the obsidian throne, one arm draped lazily over the lion-carved armrest. Shadows curled like smoke behind him.
"You're late," the King said without looking up.
Zev didn't bow. Didn't apologize.
"You summoned me, Father. You got what you wanted."
The King's fingers curled. Then, he slowly lifted his gaze—matching Zev's crimson stare with one of stone.
"You forget what it means to carry blood like yours. The heir to this throne doesn't smirk in council halls. He doesn't walk out mid-toast. And he does not let common girls wander where they do not belong."
A beat.
Zev said nothing.
"The girl crossed the Instructor's dormitory without escort. That breaks protocol," the King continued. "She deserves punishment. A week in the dark room should suffice."
Silence cracked like glass.
Zev tilted his head, smirking.
"So now you threaten her to discipline me?"
He stepped forward. No hesitation. No fear.
"Or is this your way of pleading for control… because threats are all you have left?"
The King stood, slow and thunderous, robe dragging behind him like stormclouds. They stood face to face now—father and son. Alpha and heir.
"Both," the King said coldly. "You test me, Zev. I will break you if I must."
Zev's laughter was low, unshaken, dangerous.
He shook his head.
"Fine," he said at last. "But I won't decide her fate."
He turned, already walking away, silk coat swinging with every step.
"*My little rabbit chooses for herself.*"
He didn't ask for dismissal.
He took it.
The King's jaw clenched—but said nothing.
—
Aurora moved quietly down the corridor, careful to soften her steps. The wide stone arches led toward the throne hall—but the doors weren't fully closed.
And she could hear them.
Zev's voice. Sharp. Steady.
The King's. Cold. Commanding.
She slipped closer, pressing herself against the wall just beyond the doorway, breath held tight in her chest.
"…You think threatening her will make me more obedient?" Zev was saying.
"One week in the dark room. Let the girl feel the price of your arrogance," the King snapped.
Aurora's hands trembled at her sides. *Dark room?*
Then—Zev's voice again. Calm. Amused.
"Are you threatening me… or begging?"
A pause. Silence that cut to the bone.
"Both," the King replied.
Her heart thundered. She barely heard Zev's next words.
"Fine. But my little rabbit gets to decide."
A moment later, she heard his footsteps—confident, unhurried, walking away.
She turned quickly, not wanting to be seen.
And froze.
The Queen was standing behind her.
Close.
Too close.
Her presence was quiet as shadow—and far more dangerous.
"Eavesdropping," she whispered, voice silken. "Tsk. Brave, or foolish?"
Aurora backed up a step.
"I—I didn't mean to—"
"No. But you *did* listen," the Queen said, gliding forward until they were inches apart. "That's good. Ears are more useful than lips in this palace."
Aurora tried to meet her gaze, but it felt like staring into ice laced with fire.
"Do you know why the King keeps that dungeon warm?" the Queen asked softly. "Because it silences inconvenient love stories. Because it erases rebellion before it learns to speak."
Aurora blinked. Her throat dried.
The Queen leaned in, her breath brushing Aurora's cheek.
"Careful who you let hold your name in their mouth, girl. Even affection, when spoken too loudly, becomes a weapon here."
"Are you threatening me?" Aurora whispered.
The Queen smiled.
"No. I'm offering you a lesson."
She stepped back, grace incarnate, then added over her shoulder:
"Zev plays at rebellion. But the King? He *remembers how to win wars.*"
And then she was gone.
—
Aurora ran.
The palace corridor blurred around her—stone archways, golden sconces, the fading trace of perfume and politics behind her. Her thoughts spiraled. The Queen's voice still clung to her like cobwebs:
*"Even affection, when spoken too loudly, becomes a weapon here."*
It was almost midnight.
Tomorrow would begin another test. Another lesson. Another chance for the Queen to crush her with icy precision.
*I have to be early. I have to be chosen again.*
She reached Zev's door, heart pounding—not from fear, but from something far worse.
Hope.
Twisted and naive.
She opened the door knowing he had entered the room
The chamber was dim, lit only by a single lantern on the far table. Zev stood by the window, back to her, bare from the waist up. His hands rested against the sill, moonlight painting his spine in silver.
He didn't turn.
"You left the room. Why?" he said.
Aurora stepped in and shut the door behind her. Carefully. Quietly.
"It's nearly midnight."
"I know."
"I thought you'd be asleep."
"I don't sleep well in palaces that pretend to be kingdoms."
Silence.
He turned slightly now, enough for her to see his profile—his jaw tense, his expression unreadable. That softness from before… it had vanished.
Aurora stepped closer.
"Zev…"
"Don't."
She froze.
"I didn't come to argue," she whispered.
He didn't move.
"I came to finish what we... started." she said almost ashamed but tried to be strong
Now he turned.
Slowly.
His crimson eyes didn't blaze—they watched. Waiting. Measuring.
"Is that what this is now? A mission?"
"A choice," she whispered.
She stepped toward him.
He didn't stop her.
Not when she reached for his arm. Not when her fingers skimmed the markings on his skin. Not when her lips brushed the pulse beneath his collarbone.
But his voice, when it came, was colder than steel:
"Are you trying to give the Queen what she wants?"
Aurora flinched.
"No… I'm trying to survive."
He looked down at her then—searching her like a battlefield.
And for a breathless moment, he didn't speak.
Then he stepped back, just enough to make her breath hitch.
"If I take you tonight," he murmured, "it will never be for their game."
He stepped forward again—just once. Closer.
"So tell me, Aurora…"
He reached out, cupping her jaw gently.
"Do you want an heir—"
He leaned down, lips inches from hers.
"Or do you want *me*?"
The question hung there, heavy and dangerous, like a blade suspended above both their hearts.
---