The Emperor settled into his favorite armchair, pouring two glasses of wine and offering one to Alaric.
The regal mask was gone, replaced by the weary face of a man burdened by the weight of a kingdom.
"You're a brilliant strategist, Ric," the Emperor began, his voice low. "I can see the gears turning in your head. You're wondering why I would make such a public spectacle of this matter. You're wondering what I truly want from this competition."
Alaric took a sip of his wine.
"Yes. This is not about Daphne's beauty or the Rose. It is about a power struggle."
The Emperor was silent for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the flickering fire.
"You are more perceptive than I gave you credit for," he said, a faint, humorless smile touching his lips.
"It is a power struggle, and I am tired of fighting it alone. I have reigned for five years, and for five years, I have not had a viable heir."
He opened a set of statues of the imperial family.
He pointed to a small, cherubic face embroidered with meticulous detail.
"Prince Julian," the Emperor said, "He is three years old and can barely utter a clear word. He has the mind of a child a third of his age. He is my only living heir, the sole legacy of my bloodline, yet he is... not sound."
Alaric's jaw tightened. Of course, He was aware of the young Prince's developmental issues. But to hear the Emperor confirm it, to see the quiet despair in his eyes, was a different matter entirely.
"The Empress," the Emperor continued, "has made sure of it. She has ensured that no other consort produces a male heir. All to secure her son's place as heir. My son is mentally unfit to rule an empire, yet she wants me to declare him my successor."
The Emperor turned, his eyes burning with helplessness. "I can not abide by her power-hungry ambition. I cannot allow her to use my son as a pawn. The competition is my way of fighting back. I need a woman who can not only produce an heir but also prove her worth. A woman of unparalleled talent and intelligence. A woman who can unite my subjects and put my empire's future first."
He looked at Alaric, his gaze sharp and unwavering. "This competition is not about finding a beautiful consort or the Rose. It's about finding a mother for my next heir. And I know that Lady Daphne is that person."
Alaric's mind reeled. He had been right about the Empress, but he had underestimated the Emperor's desperation.
This was not a game, it was a matter of a legacy on the brink of ruin. He had to protect Daphne.
"And if she fails?" Alaric asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"Then she will join my harem as my favored consort. She will be protected from the Empress's schemes, and I will find a way to make her bear me a son."
Alaric slammed his glass down on the table, the sound a sharp crack echoed in the room.
"This isn't just about a son, is it? You've had your mind set on her from the beginning!"
His voice was a low growl, and a primal, possessive fury burned in his eyes.
The Emperor's face hardened. His eyes narrowed, seeing the raw, untamed emotion on his friend's face.
"Your reaction is unbecoming, Ric," the Emperor said, his voice as cold as ice. "I am the Emperor. Every woman in this empire is mine to command."
Alaric took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. "She is not every woman!" he snarled, the words a direct challenge to the Emperor.
"She is my woman, a woman of honor. She is not a trophy to be won in a game of politics."
The Emperor's jaw tightened. "Your woman? She is the woman I have named the Most Beautiful Damsel. She is a woman I have set my eyes on, one I have proposed marriage to and you are acting like a fool who has fallen in love with her. A fool I can't afford."
"And what if I am a fool?" Alaric's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "What if I have been watching her for years? What if I have waited for the right moment to make her my Princess? Are you still going to command her into your harem then, Arin?"
The Emperor's expression was one of genuine shock. He leaned back in his chair, staring at Alaric with disbelief and dawning comprehension.
It was no longer a battle for a kingdom, it was a battle for a woman. And Alaric, his most loyal General, was ready to start a war for her.
"Is she?" the Emperor finally asked, he didn't need to say her name. "Is she the one?"
Alaric's gaze never wavered. "Yes."
The Emperor's face twisted in fury and disbelief. "You would dare?"
He hissed, his voice trembling. "You would dare ask for the one woman I have publicly named as my prize?"
"I am not asking for a prize, Arin," Alaric said. "I am asking for my future. I am asking for my Princess. You promised me an Imperial edict for marriage if I ever found the woman I want. I have found her, it was always her, even before she became a woman. Now, I ask you, Your Majesty, to fulfill your promise. Issue an imperial edict for marriage between Prince Alaric and Lady Daphne."
The Emperor's laughter was harsh. He walked to the window, his back to Alaric, and stared out at the silent city below.
"Why her?" he asked, the question a raw, pained whisper that was more to himself than to his friend. "Of all the women in the world, why her?"
He turned, his eyes burning with a desperate, wounded honesty. "Do you remember, Ric? Do you remember when we were five, and you promised to stand by me no matter what? When I became Emperor, I gained the world. Riches, power, everything. I have everything. But you have always been the one constant. You, and you alone, have known the cold reality of my life. That the crown I wear is a beautiful, suffocating cage. That I have never truly been loved, or even cared for. And you... you know the loneliness of my heart."
He took a step closer to Alaric, his voice laced with an aching vulnerability that Alaric had never heard before.
"And then, I saw her. At the ball, I saw a woman who moved with a grace that could rival a queen's, and a spirit that was all her own. She was not like the others. She did not tremble in my presence. Her eyes held a fire I had not seen in years, a defiance that called to the very soul I thought was long dead. She was the first woman who ever made my heart quicken, the first who made me feel... human."
He took a long, ragged breath, his gaze now fixed on Alaric's face.
"And now you tell me that she is the one. The one woman you have waited for all these years. The woman you have chosen to be your Princess. Why, Ric? Why must the one woman who has made my heart flutter for the first time since I became Emperor be the same woman you want to marry?"
The question hung in the air, a silent accusation.
The two men, an Emperor and his General, stood in the private chamber, a war brewing between them, not of empires, but of hearts.
"You ask me why her? Because for all your riches and all your conquests, you've never had to fight for anything. It has all been given to you. But I... I've had to fight for every piece of ground I've ever won. And I will not stop fighting now, not when the most precious thing I have ever wanted is finally within my reach."
He met the Emperor's gaze, his own eyes burning with an unflinching resolve. "You say she made your heart quicken. But your heart quickened in a place of power, a place where all women are meant to be a distraction, a place where safety is a rare treasure. My heart quickened in a place of quiet, in a place where a true woman of strength and courage was found, and not just another political tool. I have watched her from afar, seen her resilience, and seen her spirit in a way that you, as the Emperor, can never truly see. She is not a fleeting pleasure, Arin. She is a woman who is worth a lifetime of devotion. And you are a man who has never learned how to be vulnerable enough to want that."
The Emperor flinched, the words a physical blow. A flicker of wounded pride crossed his face.
"Stop," the Emperor said, his voice a low, pained whisper that cut through the furious tension.
He held up a hand, a gesture of profound weariness. "Stop, Ric. You know I am a man of my word. You know an Emperor's promise is not a trinket to be thrown away."
He walked to the window, his back to Alaric, his gaze fixed on the sprawling city below.
"I made that promise to you, to my closest friend, to my brother. And you... you have been the only one who has ever held me."
He turned, his face betraying deep conflict. "But I ask you, as a man, to give me a moment. The first woman who has stirred my heart in years... and you tell me she is yours? Give me some time, Ric. Give me time to think. This is not a matter of a King's word, but a matter of a man's heart. I will give you my answer soon. Now, leave me."
Alaric moved once with a new kind of respect.
He turned on his heel and walked out of the chamber, but as he reached the door, the Emperor's voice stopped him.
"Ric," the Emperor said, his voice quiet, almost pleading. "Must it be Lady Daphne? You can't give her up?"
Alaric paused, his hand on the door handle.
He turned to face the Emperor, his eyes burning with an unflinching resolve. "I'd rather give up my title than give up Daphne," he said in firm declaration.
And with that, he turned and left, the click of the door echoing in the silent room.
The Emperor stood alone, a defeated warrior in a battle he had not foreseen, his promise to his Prince and his feelings for an incredible woman.