The Emperor's obsession

Serenya stood quietly behind Zareth, her breaths shallow, her chest rising and falling with anxious rhythm. A soft shift of her foot brought her dangerously close to Draven, the Emperor's towering black stallion. The beast instantly let out a sharp, guttural neigh, his hooves pawing the earth in clear irritation as his sleek coat shimmered under the torchlight.

The sudden sound sent a jolt through her spine.

Zareth turned his head with lazy grace, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as his crimson gaze locked on the scene. His gloved hand moved to soothe the beast, fingers stroking along Draven's neck with casual familiarity. The stallion calmed at his master's touch, though his ears still twitched in agitation.

"It looks like even Draven can sense how annoyed I am," Zareth muttered, his voice deep and coated in mock amusement. His sarcasm danced like velvet-coated blades.

Serenya swallowed hard, her eyes downcast, fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her dress. Kael's stare felt like fire licking her skin from behind, but she couldn't gather the courage to look back.

In one smooth, commanding motion, Zareth mounted Draven. His long cloak fluttered behind him like smoke and shadow. He extended a single gloved hand in her direction—no words, just the sheer weight of his expectant silence. Serenya's breath caught as she stared at that hand. Her hesitation didn't last long.

With trembling fingers, she placed her hand in his. The moment her skin touched his leather-clad palm, his grip closed around her firmly—possessive, unyielding. He lifted her with effortless strength, settling her before him on the saddle like she weighed nothing.

"Straddle the horse," he murmured, his voice a whisper of command that brushed against her ear, warm and dangerous.

A tremble rippled down her spine. She did as told, blushing as she adjusted herself awkwardly on the saddle. Her legs dangled on either side, heart pounding as Draven shifted beneath them.

Zareth leaned forward, pressing his boot into the stallion's flank.

With a mighty kick, Draven reared slightly, then launched into a gallop. The world blurred. Hooves thundered against the stone path like war drums in the night. Wind tore through her hair, chilling her flushed cheeks. Her hands clutched tightly to the front of the saddle, the only space between her and the Emperor a sliver of breath and tension.

Zareth's arm wrapped around her middle to steady her. His grip was firm, branding her through the fabric of her gown. There was no room to breathe—only the overwhelming press of his presence, his scent, his power. It was suffocating. It was intoxicating.

When they reached the inner palace gates, Zareth reined in Draven with precise control. The horse snorted and paced, muscles rippling beneath the saddle.

The Emperor dismounted in one graceful leap, his cloak swirling dramatically in the lantern-lit air. He turned, eyes never leaving her. With a single tug, he pulled her down to the ground, his hands lingering around her waist before letting go.

"Move to the shed, Draven," he said, patting the beast's flank. The horse tossed its head, then galloped off toward the stables with an obedient snort.

Then he turned to her.

The crimson in his eyes glowed like dying embers in a firepit—dangerous, alive. Serenya froze as he took a step toward her.

"I'm quite surprised at how far you got with this little escape plan of yours," Zareth said coolly, his voice dipped in silk and steel.

Serenya drew herself up, trying to summon her courage.

"You could've just chosen someone else," she said, her voice shaking but determined. "Someone who actually wants to be your Empress. Because I don't."

His lips curved, a lazy, crooked smile spreading across his face.

"Why do I feel like we've had this conversation before?" he mused aloud, as though she were a child spouting nonsense. "Let me repeat myself: I've decided you'll be my Empress. And that's final."

He stepped closer. She instinctively backed away—once, twice—until her back hit one of the stone pillars. Cold and unyielding.

Zareth's smile widened.

"I promise to make you happy, Serenya," he whispered, each word dripping with unbearable arrogance.

Her breath hitched. Heat crept up her neck as his presence enveloped her like smoke.

She turned her head away quickly, hoping the gesture would create space, but he caught her waist and reeled her back in like a hunter retrieving prey.

"Look at you," he purred. "Always trying to run."

His gloved knuckles brushed gently against her cheek. The softness was at odds with the threat he carried in every gesture, every word. "But you can't outrun me, little dove."

"Your Imperial Majesty—"

His lips brushed close to hers, not touching, but close enough to steal her breath.

"Zareth," he murmured. "Call me Zareth."

Her eyes widened at the command—so casual, yet so intimate.

Her heart thudded wildly in her chest. She felt like she was drowning in red.

"Z-Zareth," she whispered, and the sound of it on her tongue made his eyes gleam with dangerous delight.

He finally stepped back, victorious.

"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"I… I have a request," she stammered.

He arched an eyebrow, feigning curiosity.

"Oh? I'm supposed to punish you for trying to run, but let's hear it."

"In Vayrana," she said carefully, "we aren't allowed to marry before the age of twenty-two. And during that time, I want to live with my family."

He scoffed, an amused laugh rumbling from deep within his chest.

"What a ridiculous tradition," he said. "Why wait? We could get married tomorrow."

Her mouth fell open in horror. "You can't do that! Haven't you ever courted a woman before?!"

His smirk deepened. "No. You're the only woman I've ever wanted this badly."

She faltered, lips parted in stunned silence.

"Don't worry," he added casually. "You'll get used to it."

"I won't," she snapped. "Taking me from my family will only make me hate you."

"There's a very thin line between love and hate," he said, his voice low. "And it snaps easily."

Her glare was fierce, filled with helpless rage. But Zareth only chuckled, cocking his head to the side.

"Did you just glare at your Emperor?"

She looked away in frustration.

"I want to return to my chambers," she muttered, trying to compose herself.

"Not so fast, little dove." His tone was amused again. "You still need to be punished."

"If you hadn't imprisoned me in the first place, I wouldn't have run," she retorted sharply.

Zareth's eyes darkened with something unreadable. "I would have allowed you to stay with your family after the ceremony. Perhaps even travel with them for a while. But then… you made a dash."

She blinked, startled by his words. Would he really have? The fleeting hope was crushed when his smug smile returned.

"Come," he ordered. "I want to know how you escaped when I had guards outside your door."

She didn't move.

He sighed dramatically. "Stop staring at me. I know I'm handsome, but this is getting excessive."

She flushed and looked away. "I used bedsheets," she muttered. "Tied them and climbed down."

He raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. "Who knew the dainty princess could be so… acrobatic? A monkey in disguise."

She looked up as if to glare, but her dignity barely held. She turned away.

Zareth began walking. She followed in silence.

He led her to the back of her chambers, where the knotted bedsheets still dangled from the window like a prison rope. Moonlight bathed the fabric, casting pale shadows against the stone.

He observed it, then muttered, "You must've been truly desperate to descend from that height."

"Anyone would, if they were being held prisoner," she murmured.

He turned slowly, a grin forming on his lips.

"Really?" His voice dropped. "Climb it."

Her heart stopped. "What?"

"I said, climb it," he repeated, tilting his head like a devil offering a deal. "I want to see how my little dove made her daring escape."

"I'm a princess—"

"And my future Empress," he interrupted smoothly. "Come now. Don't be shy."

She clenched her fists. "You can't be serious."

Zareth took a leisurely step forward, lowering his voice just enough to tease. "I'll catch you if you fall. And if you impress me… maybe I'll let you see your family before they leave."

Her throat dried.

She turned slowly to the makeshift rope, heart thundering.

Behind her, Zareth crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the wall, watching her with the satisfaction of a cat observing a cornered bird.

"Let's see what my little dove is truly made of."