I loved him even as he thrust his sword right through me.

A hundred concubines lived in Emperor Sylvos' inner court — the heart of his thorned castle. With a cruel ranking system, only favored concubines had the honor of meeting with His Majesty. And only the woman able to bear him a child could become Empress.

Raine Stjorme had climbed the ranks to the top. And after praying each night, she was finally with child. Yet all this was rewarded with the cruelest of fates.

Murdered by the man she loved, Raine cursed Emperor Sylvos with her dying breath. She cursed his whole court as they snickered at her final moments.

And her curse had taken root.

Now, Raine awakens three years before her destined death, on the fateful day she first encounters the emperor. Armed with this second chance, she vows to make him fall — and to bring his empire down with him.

But when faced with the tyrant who claimed her heart, could she still follow through?

TROPES INCLUDED:

Enemies to Lovers - Second chance - Rebirth Revenge - Emperor x Concubine - Slow Burn - Love Triangle - Arranged Marriage - Forced Proximity - Magical Weapons - Mythical Creatures - Tyrant x Princess - Villain wants the girl - He falls first - She wants him dead.

This is my first try at Dark Fantasy and I want to improve so please leave comments in chapters. I'll take any feedback, both negative and positive! Don't be shy! And don't forget to vote on chapters you enjoy <3

STATUS: COMPLETED

【Discord server link for extra images, votes, and news, is in comment section here.】

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Thank you for clicking on this story! I hope you enjoy the ride hehe. 

~ Holly Shmit

✦Map of the Fayndor Continent✦

✦✦✦

【𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐉𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄】

I loved him even as he thrust his sword right through me.

"Raine Stjorme, Nightshade Concubine and Princess of Drakfjord... I, Sylvos Thorne, Emperor of Thornmont, Sovereign of Fayndor, and Wielder of Briarvex... sentence thee to death."

With those cruel words, he yanked Briarvex from my stomach, the sword's intricately engraved blade glistening with my blood. I sank to my knees, my black gown quickly drenched in crimson.

The entire inner court had gathered in the throne room — including all 100 concubines. It was an assembly I had imagined would herald my coronation as empress. Yet, it became painfully clear that I was the only one mistaken.

My hands trembled as I clutched my stomach.

"How... How could you?" I whispered.

After praying for so long to be blessed...

Tears blurred my vision as I gazed up at Sylvos, my heart breaking anew.

Black eyes that had once gazed at me with love now burned with hollow resentment. His silver hair, which I had caressed only days before, was now crowned with jagged metal.

"How could you!?" I cried louder. "I bear your child! Why would you slay your own heir when fate had denied you of any for so long?"

A shrill, haunting laughter echoed through the vast throne room, chilling the air.

My attention snapped to the silver throne, a grotesque seat of jagged spikes and thick gnarled vines that reached toward the ceiling like a crooked claw.

From the shadows beside the monstrous chair, Isolde stepped forward, a sinister grace in her movements.

Like me, she wore a flowing black gown that marked her as a Nightshade Concubine. Yet hers was embellished with bronze trimmings that glinted wickedly, complementing her fiery red hair.

"You wish for His Majesty to believe the child you carry is his?" she snickered, her voice dripping with malice.

"Of course!" I insisted, my hands clutching my stomach as I fought to stem the flow of blood. Each ragged breath scraped like shards of ice against my lungs.

"Liar." She tilted her head, emerald eyes glinting with cruel delight. "Ser Kaelan Blanc has already confessed that the child is his."

"What?!"

Her words felt like a kick to my already wounded stomach.

Desperate, I turned back to Sylvos and seized his black boot. Still on my knees, my blood stained its polished leather.

Surely, he would see the truth.

"Sylvos... please," I begged, my voice trembling. "You must believe me. This is a lie! I have only ever loved you! I have only ever been faithful to you! For three years... Do you not see? The gods sent us this child as proof of my loyalty!"

A voice like cold steel cut through the throne room.

"Your Majesty, do not be deceived by this traitor's cunning tongue."

I turned toward the speaker — Ser Bastian, Captain of the Briarbound Knights. He stood tall, a wall of black steel, his long obsidian hair framing a face carved from stone.

"Just last week, her sister wed the King of Pyree," he declared. "It's clear that Drakfjord wishes to conspire with our enemies. Treason such as this cannot go unpunished."

Treason?

How could he make such a claim?

My head whirled back to the emperor.

"Sylvos, hear me! You already know this not to be true!" I pleaded. "I've begged you every day to save my sister. She was not wed to that warlord king. She was stolen!"

Tears streamed down my face, and my hands grew colder, more ghostly with each passing moment. But there was no warmth in the emperor's gaze. Not even a flicker of sympathy.

His boot struck my chest, sending me sprawling onto the dark marble floor.

"Your disgrace has not only sealed your own ruin but that of your entire bloodline. Come dawn, the Stjorme monarchy shall find their heads adorning my throne. I'll make sure to leave room for your sister's new husband too."

The court erupted in laughter, their delight echoing off the cold stone walls at their ruler's promise. With those cruel words, the last vestiges of my strength crumbled into a thousand shards. I stared blankly at my bloodied hands, the very hands that had clawed their way from the bottom of his harem to attain the coveted Nightshade rank.

What had it all been for?

Why had I prayed each night for the blessing of a child that seemed impossible?

Despite all he had done... The creatures he chained, the wars he waged, and the lives he ruined... Why had I loved him?

All for naught, it seemed.

"Sylvos, I—"

"You shall address me as Your Majesty," he cut in, his voice as sharp as the blade that had torn through me.

My lips quivered. I remembered the night he so tenderly insisted I call him by his given name. I had hesitated, warning him that the court would see it as disrespect. But he only smiled and asked, who would dare deny their sovereign's request?

I could still feel the ghost of his kiss from that night... The warmth that had once soothed me...

"Your Majesty," I croaked, my voice barely carrying. "May I at least ask that my body be sent back to Drakfjord... So I may receive proper funeral rites?"

"Denied."

My gaze shot up, horror twisting my features as his smirk filled me with dread.

He knew.

Sylvos had never been allowed to learn the full truth of our burials, yet he knew how sacred it was to my people. Denying it could bar me from salvation.

"Please... or my soul may never find peace," I begged.

His smile was that of a tyrant's, dark and unyielding.

He raised Briarvex once more, aiming it at my chest.

"Your body shall hang from the fortress walls for as long as I reign," he promised. "But first, I shall tear that unborn bastard from your corpse and feed it to the hounds."

With that, Sylvos drove Briarvex into my heart, the blade tearing through flesh and bone. I gasped, choking on blood as I struggled to breathe. The blade pulsed with wicked magic, and I watched in horror as thorns began to twist from my chest. They coiled around my wound, binding me in agony.

I looked into Sylvos' eyes, and in that moment, something inside me broke.

"I curse you, Sylvos Thorne," I spat, blood staining my lips. "I curse you for a thousand lifetimes. May my soul haunt you for all eternity. Until damnation do us part."

Thunder rumbled outside, shaking the windows.

The court fell into a stunned silence. And for the first time, Sylvos glanced around, his expression unsettled.

I wished I could bring them a true storm.

I wished I had the strength.

I wished I knew better.

I wished I never...

I wished...

I...

I died that day.

✦✦✦

A voice called to me from somewhere far away, piercing the veil of darkness.

"Raine."

I'm so tired...

"Raine, open your eyes."

Please, let me rest already...

"Raine, you must succeed this time."

I can't... It's already done.... I'm done...

"Raine, please. For all our souls... end this."

My eyes fluttered open.

A hollow ache lingered in my chest, as though that cursed silver sword of thorns was still embedded within me. I pressed a hand to my heart, expecting to feel the cold bite of steel, but found only a jagged scar.

What... happened?

Had I not died?

How could I possibly survive such a wound?

Taken aback, I surveyed my surroundings. But instead of the dark walls of my sleeping quarter in Nightshade Castle, I was in an open-air chamber. Beyond the salt-stone pillars before me, wisps of clouds drifted lazily. Sheer tattered curtains swayed in the salt-tinged breeze.

I inhaled deeply, the rain scented air filling my lungs.

Instantly, I knew where I was.

"But how?" I whispered in disbelief.

How had I returned to Drakfjord? To the cliffs of Stormgard?

It had been three long years since I last slept in the bed chamber where I had grown up. How could I be back in my father's castle? Had Sylvos sent me back as I begged?

"Raineeee!"

I looked up at the familiar voice and my eyes widened as my little sister leaped onto the bed.

"Skye..." I breathed, my heart wrenched between joy and disbelief.

"Raine, they're here! Aren't you excited? Oh, I hope I get to see him up close!" she chattered, her soft gray eyes sparkling with excitement.

Skye's words became a blur, drowned by the flood of memories that washed over me. Her accent put harsh emphasis on the r's and deepened the o's. How had I forgotten what my own people sounded like?

All I could do was stare at my beautiful sister. My hand gently toyed with one of the braids woven in her dark hair. She looked exactly as I remembered her...

But wasn't she meant to be seventeen this year? And what about the news of her being stolen by that warlord? How was she still here? And how did she look so young?

"Sister, are you even listening to me?" Skye asked, her cheeks puffed in a familiar pout.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, shaking my head. "I'm just... I'm confused. How am I here? At Stormgard? How did I survive?"

"Raine!" Skye scolded, crossing her arms. "Do you really want to leave Drakfjord that badly? I know he's handsome, but at least pretend you'll miss your family."

"What?"

"They're meeting with Father as we speak," a voice cut in.

Skye and I turned toward our eldest sister leaning against the door frame, her short dark hair fluttering in the breeze.

"Claude... you're here..." I blinked at her.

She rolled her steely eyes as she stepped inside. Like Skye, she seemed untouched by time. Dressed in her usual dark leather riding tunic and pants, she was a stark contrast to Skye's pastel frills and chiffons.

"Are you still half-asleep?" she asked, smirking. "Get up already. You shouldn't keep the emperor waiting."

At the mention of him, my body froze.

I tried to steady my trembling hands, but the memory was too vivid. All the color drained from me as I looked at my sisters with wide, panicked eyes.

"We have to run! He'll kill us!" I said.

"What?" Skye frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"He's here for an alliance, not war," Claude chuckled. "For now, at least."

I couldn't stop shaking.

"An alliance? He swore to have our heads," I whispered desperately. "Please, we must run! If we fly now, we can be on the other side of the world in no time."

"Raine, I think you've had a strange dream," Skye said, worry creeping into her voice.

"Just last night, you were so eager to meet the emperor. What changed?" Claude asked.

"What?" I breathed, glancing around.

Something wasn't adding up...

Was I still dreaming?

I tugged at my nightgown to see for myself. And sure enough, a jagged scar cut across my heart in a twisted X. It was impossible to miss.

"Look, my scar is still here! He stabbed me through the heart!" I insisted.

But Skye and Claude only frowned.

"What scar?" Skye asked. "Your skin is as smooth as milk."

I dropped my hands, staring at them in disbelief.

"What? How can you not see it?"

"Raine, it sounds like you had a nightmare," Claude said softly, trying to reassure me. "Maybe your excitement got the better of you."

Gradually, the pieces began to fall into place. The way my sisters looked exactly as they had three years ago... The mention of Sylvos coming here for an alliance...

"How old am I?" I asked, dread pooling in my gut.

Skye let out a laugh.

"You've really lost it, Raine," she giggled. "You turned nineteen only yesterday."

Realization crashed over me.

Somehow, I'd been sent back three years...

To the day I met Sylvos Thorne.

"I don't wish to meet him anymore," I insisted, clearing my throat. "I changed my mind."

"Don't make me drag you to the throne room by your hair," Claude joked, though her grip as she helped me from the bed was firm. "We can't escape this betrothal. I'd have taken it myself if I weren't Father's heir. And Skye is only fourteen."

Maids flitted into the room as they prepared a bath, others went to change my bed sheets.

"I'll do it! I don't mind," Skye giggled, her eyes taking on a distant, dreamy glaze. "I caught a glimpse of him earlier. Though I was so high up, and the sky is always so misty, all I really noticed was his silver hair."

Claude's steely eyes turned on her with a smoldering glare.

"What were you doing in the sky? We're keeping the dragons hidden today for a reason! Do you understand what this betrothal means?"

Skye's gaze fell.

"I wasn't riding Starscale," she insisted softly. "I was only watching from the tower..."

Claude's face softened, but only slightly.

Memories from this day slowly returned to me.

The betrothal with Sylvos was nothing but a ploy to divert his hungry gaze from our island. Offering our capital's storm-forged gems in an attempt to hide our dragons. How many beasts had he enslaved in his pursuit of dominion over the Fayndor continent?

We had even arranged for his arrival during winter, when our dragons slept the months away in their caves. Though he only arrived after my birthday in early spring. Any day now, the dragons will begin to rouse.

"Help Raine pick a dress," Claude ordered Skye. "She must look the part of an empress."

They busied themselves with my attire as I stepped into the bath and sank into the warm water.

It was impossible to make sense of my thoughts.

Was this truly a second chance?

Part of me longed to send Sylvos away empty-handed and stay here, safe with my family. But I knew that wasn't an option. This union was meant to save my kingdom from him. And even if I knew now it was futile, refusing him at this point would only result in a war we weren't prepared for.

My gaze dropped to the crooked scar that marked my chest, my fingers tracing the wound as though it still bled.

How could they not see it?

Or was this mark a harbinger of what was to come? A reminder to me alone?

My touch traveled lower, to my stomach where I had a scar to match. This one was smaller... But hurt so much more. The back of my eyes burned as my palm rested over the pinkish wound.

It had only been four months... But I still carried his child...

I dipped my head below the surface of the water, letting the warmth engulf me as I fought the urge to drown.

With the help of the maids, I got dressed and presentable. Though Skye had always been the prettiest one, even she flushed to a warm pink the same shade as her gown.

"Perfect," Claude nodded in approval.

I turned to the mirror.

The dress was an gossamer gray gown, intricately woven with lace that cascaded down like the mist that clung to our island. Its off-the-shoulder sleeves were in Drakfjord fashion, revealing my pale collarbones.

"We can't forget her tiara," Skye insisted as she reached to place my crown upon my dark hair.

Like all our storm-forged gems, the jewels of my silver tiara pulsed with their own life, like the lightning that so often danced across our skies.

"Let's meet him then," I sighed, steeling myself.

I would not tremble before him.

Not again.

Though our castle lacked the jagged fortifications of Sylvos' fortress, we possessed a throne room worthy of any royal lineage. Perched atop the mountains, Stormgard Castle offered a breathtaking view beyond the pillars, as if we were seated within the clouds. The walls, hewn from the pale salt-stones of our island, held an ethereal quality.

I stepped through the grand double doors, my sisters trailing behind me. Upon the sea-salt throne sat my father, his smile proud. My mother stood beside him; her beauty only rivaled by Skye's. But their presence faded in the wake of what truly mattered.

My gaze locked onto the figure standing before my father. The silver hair, the cold, steely contours of his armor, and the billowing black cape — all unmistakable.

But what set my blood boiling was the cursed sword sheathed across his back. Briarvex. Its thorn-laced hilt and intricate silverwork gleamed cruelly in the light. The blade was spotless, yet in my mind, I still saw my blood smeared across its edge.

The emperor turned toward me, his sharp crown catching the pale light. And upon his face, my heart lurched violently, as if he had driven that cursed sword through me all over again.

He looked exactly the same as when I met him three years ago, his face bright with that youthful spark. Gone was the dark circles and rough beard he'd worn at the end of my life.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Princess Raine," he greeted, inclining his head slightly. "I am Sylvos Thorne, Emperor of Thornmont and Sovereign of Fayndor."

For a good few moments, I fought the incessant urge to grab his own sword from him and be off with his head. My nails dug into my palms so hard I was sure I drew blood.

By a miracle, or some divine hand, my body moved with restrained grace, sinking into a stiff curtsy.

"The pleasure is mine," I managed through gritted teeth.

His eyes flashed with a wolfish gleam at my tone, his smile curling with a tyrant's charm.

"I look forward to this betrothal," he smirked.

"As do I."

It was only half a lie.

Though I dreaded this union, I was looking forward to bringing his empire down with him.

✦✦✦

✦✦✦

【𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐉𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄】

The ceremony was rather brief and underwhelming. As expected for a man with a hundred concubines, these matters needed to be swift work.

The sun relinquished its reign to a crescent moon, casting a silver light as we gathered in the dining hall. Like much of Stormgard Castle, the space was open to the night air, with flowing diaphanous curtains swaying gently in the spring breeze.

We took our places at the polished sea-salt table, the feast laid before us a mockery of celebration.

Father and Sylvos sat at opposite ends, while I occupied the emperor's right hand, suffocating under the weight of his conversation. With each quick-witted remark he made, my dinner grew increasingly difficult to swallow.

"I do hope my arrival wasn't inconvenient," Sylvos spoke up, brushing a silver lock of hair behind his ear. "I understand Drakfjord only allows visits in winter, but the journey was quite long."

"It's no problem," Father replied. "It's still early spring."

"Why winter, if I may ask?" Sylvos smiled.

I stiffened slightly as I drank my birch mead.

Any other season and our dragons would be dotting the skies.

"We are simply far too busy in the warm seasons," Father replied smoothly.

"I see..."

A slight tension settled over the table.

"Y-your Majesty," Skye piped up, her voice trembling.

Claude and I shot her daggers, igniting a deeper blush across her cheeks.

"Yes, Princess Skye?" Sylvos replied gently.

"I... I heard you have unicorns. Is that true?" she stammered.

He smiled, candlelight glinting in his dark eyes.

"Yes, I acquired them during my first conquest in the forests of Flynmoore. They have a taste for grass and flesh alike. It's fascinating. We've been breeding them since then. In three years, we might have a cavalry of these fierce beasts."

"That's amazing," she marveled, her pale eyes sparkling. "I've always wanted to see one."

"They've cost several of my men their eyes," he chuckled. "Their tempers are rather unruly."

"Perhaps they aren't meant to be tamed for war," I interjected, my voice slicing through the hall.

Silence blanketed the table, only the soft scrape of my silver cutlery breaking the stillness. Sensing the unease, Father filled the void with a hearty laugh.

"I suppose any beast can be tamed," he joked, but the humor felt hollow.

"Have you tamed many a beast here at Drakfjord?" Sylvos asked, leaning in with curiosity. "Your island is rather mysterious, after all. The only records to be found are from thousands of years ago. And you don't even allow visitors or merchants. I was so intrigued, I had to come here and see for myself."

A tense silence settled over us. My sisters and I exchanged wary glances, careful not to show our unease.

"Our only treasures are our storm-forged gems," Father said.

Sylvos watched him carefully.

For a moment, I thought he might press for more.

Then, he finally leaned back in his seat.

"And of course, your lovely daughters," he said, his eyes flicking toward me with a sly smile.

I imagined that very smile as I cut through my chicken.

"Your Majesty, you must have my daughter perform our kingdom's dagger dance when you return to Thornmont," Mother spoke up from her place beside Father. "Raine is the best dancer in years."

Sylvos shrugged it off.

"My brides have many talents. I'm sure Raine's dancing is lovely."

"Perhaps if I were a beast, the emperor would be more interested," I scoffed.

Mother sent me a pointed glare, which I ignored. I could feel Sylvos' attention on me again, though I paid it no mind.

Skye, in her usual way, broke the tension.

"What's the scariest creature you have?" she asked excitedly.

Sylvos' dark eyes glinted as he pondered her question.

"It must be my wyrm," he replied. "I possess only one for now, but he's large enough to swallow twenty horses whole. The fire he breathes has turned the tide of several battles in my favor."

Skye's eyes widened, completely captivated.

I can already see the question burning on her tongue.

Can you ride it?

She best keep that question to herself.

"Though the creature will do me little good in my conquest of Driftwoode," Sylvos continued. "It cannot traverse the rivers or swim the shores of its capital. I'm hoping to capture a kraken, but their sightings are rather rare these days."

"Doesn't Driftwoode have a kraken of their own?" I asked, taking a deep sip from my goblet. "You better ensure the one you acquire is larger. Or your next conquest might not be so lucky."

"Raine! Mind your manners!" Mother interjected. Though her brown eyes burned with disapproval, there lingered a hint of pleading, as if she recognized the peril in crossing such a man.

Sylvos' charmed laugh eased the tension.

"It's alright, Queen Natalia," he assured, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth. "It seems my new bride has much to say on the art of warfare. I shall heed her counsel in the future."

Three years ago, I might've believed him. But now I knew he'd rather my head be spiked upon his thorned throne than listen to anything I said.

"Do you often speak to your daughters of war, King Gale?" he asked, his dark eyes locking onto my father with an intensity that made the air in the hall grow heavy.

The older man laughed, the sound echoing like thunder as he gulped down his birch mead.

"Gods, no!" he replied, a hint of nervousness threading through his mirth. "Drakfjord has always remained neutral amidst the conflicts of Fayndor. We live a humble life upon our island, away from such turmoil."

The emperor hummed thoughtfully, a predator sizing up its prey.

"If you joined me in my conquests, we could carve a swath through the continent," he said, his voice low and persuasive. "I grew up on tales of the storm sword. Together, our forces could annihilate any army that dared to stand against us."

I froze at the audacity of his offer.

Yet, my father remained steadfast, his demeanor unyielding.

"Old Fjulgor has been put to rest," he replied. "He fought enough battles in the time of elves. My family made a vow not to cause such destruction again."

"Time of elves? Isn't it considered a myth by most scholars?" Sylvos chuckled. "To think your family would keep such a vow for over a thousand years. It's a shame," he commented, a smile playing on his lips, as if he had already envisioned the bloodshed that would follow.

I shuddered at the thought of what he would do with even more power than he already had. No matter the cost, he cannot find out about our dragons.

✦✦✦

With dinner concluded, everyone dispersed to their chambers for the night.

I still remembered this day three years ago.

I had been so utterly flustered in Sylvos' presence that I waited all night in my room for him to summon me. Though he never did. And even after I arrived at his court, it took over a year before my rank was high enough to spend the night with him.

Now, that very thought was my saving grace. The mere idea of sharing a bed with him twisted my stomach into knots.

Sitting in my room, my feet dangled over the edge of the open wall, my long hair caught in the cool spring breeze. Below, a storm raged, but our castle sat high above the clouds, untouched. Only flashes of lightning pierced the darkness, illuminating my figure.

Even in the rain, I bet the city below was celebrating my betrothal.

Stormgard was always the liveliest city of Drakfjord. Women in wide skirts would perform our dagger dance while men strummed folk songs on their lyres, their melodies made whole by the rumbling thunder. I used to sneak out and join them. Though those nights felt like forever ago.

"Can't sleep?" a voice spoke from the shadows.

I glanced over my shoulder as Claude came to sit beside me.

"You'll leave for Thornmont tomorrow," she teased. "I bet it'll be lonely for a while. Mistfang will miss you too. When I left with father for that voyage last year, Dreadwing nearly ripped me apart upon my return."

My eyes lowered to the storm below.

How long had it been since I rode the skies with my dragon? The wind whipping through my hair...

"Could... Could we go down to the cave?" I asked, desperation creeping into my voice. "I want to see her again. I want to fly one last time."

"But you said goodbye yesterday," Claude countered, her eyebrow arching. "You rode her from dawn to dusk even though she was meant to stay asleep."

"It feels like years ago," I replied, forcing a laugh that held no warmth.

Normally, Claude would have denied my request, her practicality winning over my pleas. But something in my eyes must have softened her resolve.

"Fine, get your riding leathers. Though it will only be a visit. We cannot risk flying with the emperor here."

I didn't need to be told twice.

With the biggest smile, I got dressed and set off.

Claude and I hastily descended into the stables, a celebration indeed unfolding in the city. We quickly saddled our horses before racing to the caves, several shores away. An hour passed before we slowed to a cautious trot along the beach, waves crashing against the sand.

"You go; I'll keep watch," Claude said, her voice steady yet concerned.

"Thank you, Sister."

Without a moment's pause, I darted through the crevice of the cave. Upon my movement, the storm-forged gems that made Stormgard our capital, glinted in the dark, shimmering like lost stars. They illuminated my path with an ethereal indigo glow. Water dripped from the ceiling, and a cold wind gusted through. I moved deeper into the cave until the air shifted, growing warm and heavy.

"Mistfang?" I called, my voice echoing.

Silence hung thick, wrapping around me.

"Mistfang... I've come to say hello. And... goodbye."

I held my breath, straining to hear any sign of life.

Then, from the darkness, pale scales shimmered into view. The movement stirred larger gems deeper in the cave, casting a dim light across the chamber. Slowly, my silver dragon emerged, unfurling her wings as she stretched, her skin glistening like starlight against the shadows. Her narrow snout sniffed the air before she blinked at me with her lilac eyes.

"Mistfang," I whispered as she approached, placing her snout against my hand, warmth radiating from her.

I rubbed her smooth scales, resting my head against her.

It had been three years since I last held my dragon. I thought about her every day in my first life.

"I missed you so much," I murmured. "It's been... tough."

My dragon might not have been the largest of our flock but was bigger than most. She could easily swallow a man clean.

How I wished to set her upon Sylvos right now.

I clenched my fist, feeling the weight of my thoughts.

No, if Thornmont knew I had murdered their sovereign, it would bring war to Drakfjord. I couldn't risk my family. Not again.

Getting my revenge wasn't so simple as killing him. Consequences would follow with such an act. I had to crush Thornmont first before I could touch its ruler.

Here, patience would be my ally.

I sighed, leaning into Mistfang a little more.

Time trickled by like grains of sand as I embraced my dragon, the warmth of her scales a comfort.

"I swear I will return for you before this is all over," I vowed, my voice a hushed whisper. "Together, we will bring Thornmont a storm."

Her lilac eyes held mine, as though she understood every word.

Back on the beach, I mounted my horse again and raced back to the castle with Claude by my side.

I'd thought long and hard on how to crush Thornmont, and with the night air, my thoughts became clear. There was no other way.

"Sister," I said, eyes fixed ahead as we rode. "I must tell you about a dream."

Claude glanced at me warily.

"What dream?"

I exhaled slowly. I couldn't tell her the whole truth of what had happened without risking her attacking Sylvos this very night. But I couldn't succeed without her either. No, for this plan to succeed, I needed to twist the truth slightly.

"I saw the future," I said, glancing at her. "Sister, I know this sounds strange, but I swear on my dragon that I've seen what is to come. I saw war and blood. Thornmont is no friend of ours. And for Drakfjord to survive, we must work quietly."

Her steely gray eyes held me.

She knew I'd never speak such words lightly. Unlike Skye, I wasn't one for jests.

"I knew something had changed," she murmured. "You're not the same as yesterday."

My gaze dropped to the reins tangled in my fingers.

"It was... a vivid dream."

For a moment, the only sound that followed was the crash of waves and the thud of hooves on damp sand. Then Claude spoke again, voice steady.

"Well, we knew this betrothal only bought temporary peace. It's better we prepare now than suffer later. You already have a plan, don't you?"

I met her eyes and smiled faintly.

"This plan... I've tried to find an alternative but it's our best shot. And... it involves both you and Skye."

Her hesitation was brief, crushed beneath iron resolve.

"Just tell me what you need of us."

And I did.

✦✦✦

By the time we returned to Stormgard Castle, I explained my plan to Claude thoroughly. She was against some aspects, especially those related to Skye, but I assured her this was the only way.

With that, we parted, and I entered my chamber.

Only to halt in my tracks.

There, seated on my bed, was the last man I wished to confront. Sylvos looked up from the dagger he idly twirled in his hand.

"Why, good evening, my bride," he greeted, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips.

I bit back a curse. My hands trembled at the thought of lunging for that dagger and embedding it deep into his neck.

Sylvos' gaze traveled over my riding attire, one brow arched.

"Late-night escapades?" he inquired.

"I needed air," I replied. "What brings you here, uninvited?"

Sylvos had never deigned to visit me during my first life.

His brows arched.

"Must an emperor have an invitation to visit his concubine?"

The old me would've melted in joy.

But she was long dead.

"There is a rank among the harem for a reason," I answered coolly, feigning control as I walked to my dressing table. My silver brush glided through my thick hair while candlelight danced across my skin.

"Oh?" Sylvos mused.

"As a new bride from a less beneficial alliance, I would be Clover rank," I stated matter-of-factly. "You only spend your nights with Lavender rank or higher. How else could you make sense of a hundred concubines?"

In my first life, the sting of humiliation had been sharp when I received the lowest rank of the harem. Clover. The other concubines had laughed at me, a princess, reduced to such a low position. I now understood that it had been the emperor's way of punishing my father for his lack of support in the endless war.

Sylvos rose from the bed and approached me slowly, his presence looming like a storm cloud. He stood behind me, arms resting on either side of my dressing table. I caught the glint of his gaze in the shadows of my mirror, and stiffened slightly.

He seemed... hungry...

"And who gets to tell me what I may or may not do in my own court?" he whispered, his words warm against my ear.

My breath stilled.

"We're not in your court yet," I dared, my voice steady despite the tremor beneath.

His eyes flashed with intrigue.

"It would seem so..."

For what felt like an eternity, he held me in place with that piercing gaze, until he finally stepped back, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest.

"I came to give you a gift," he said.

"What for?" I asked as I stood.

Sylvos continued to laugh, clearly finding my annoyance amusing.

"It's rare for me to receive such a chilly reception," he said. "Your father gifted me this blade months ago, when the proposal was first accepted. But as it is imbued with your people's magic, I find I have little use for it."

He handed me the silver dagger and with a closer look, I finally recognized it from my life before. He had carried it everywhere with him back then. To think it was from my father all this time...

I let my fingers trace over the engravings on its hilt, and the storm-forged gem embedded into its pommel. Indeed, its design was the same as our traditional dancing daggers, its blade so polished I could see my reflection as clear as a mirror.

"Its name is Raincatcher," Sylvos said.

I accepted the gift, its weight settling into my hand. If nothing else, it meant he no longer held something so precious from my kingdom.

"Th-thank you," I managed to choke out.

"You're welcome, Princess."

He lingered, and when I finally met his gaze, I saw something soften in his eyes.

"Then... you should take your leave," I stammered, breaking eye contact. "We have a long voyage tomorrow."

"Indeed," he replied, his tone chillingly courteous. "I look forward to having you in my court, Princess."

With that, he turned and left, leaving me alone with the blade in my hand and a hollow ache in my chest. All I could think about was how little I wished to leave my home.

The last time I did, it cost me my life.

✦✦✦

✦✦✦

【𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐉𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄】

I hugged my sisters tightly, my eyes prickling.

"We'll miss you, Sister," Skye sniffled against my shoulder.

"Take care of yourself," Claude cautioned.

We embraced by the stony shore at the foot of our mountainous castle. Mist clung to the air, obscuring the ship anchored further out, its dark silhouette barely visible. A solitary rowboat bobbed in the water, waiting for me, while the previous vessel had already ferried the emperor away to his ship.

I held onto them both, burning this peaceful memory into my mind.

At the end of my first life, I heard Claude was preparing to take over the throne. And Skye... My sweet Skye had been stolen, dragged away by Pyree's war-hungry king.

But now, they were here. My heart clenched and I hugged them tighter, as if my grasp alone could shield them from what's to come.

Claude was already aware of my plans, but Skye was not.

Though I dreaded involving my younger sister, it was inevitable. And instead of fighting an unavoidable fate, it was better to make use of it.

The three of us finally let go, tears glimmered in our eyes. 

"Don't worry about things here," Claude whispered. "I'll take care of everything. You focus on yourself, alright?"

"Thank you, Sister," I smiled, handing her a parchment. "I'll send letters once I'm able."

"Just don't get in trouble..." she said, her steely eyes holding mine. 

I knew I could rely on her with this. She'd always had my back.

"And, and I'll take care of Mistfang for you!" Skye piped up. "It's spring now. I'll make sure she stretches her wings after all that sleeping. Starscale's been eager to fly too."

"I appreciate that," I smiled and kissed her forehead, a prickle of guilt settling in my chest.

"We're proud of you, Raine," Father spoke up.

I turned and wrapped my arms around him. The wind tousled his dark hair, streaked with silver like the night sky brushed by lightning. He smelled of salt and leather, a familiar scent I had nearly forgotten.

As I pulled back, I noticed the tears glistening in his gray eyes.

"You... You be good now, ey?" he murmured gruffly. "Take advantage of Thornmont's luxury and live a good life."

"I will, Father," I lied, the words tasting bitter.

I already knew that what awaited me in Sylvos' court was anything but luxury. Father had been naive believing in anything otherwise. He had always been soft like that.

I'll leave it in Claude's hands to convince him of my plans.

Next, my mother wrapped her arms around me, enveloping me in warmth. Unlike everyone else at Drakfjord, she carried the scent of flowers and pine — an essence from her homeland that had clung to her despite living in Drakfjord most her life.

"We can never repay you for this," she murmured into my hair, her voice trembling.

When she pulled back, her light brown eyes shimmered with tragic beauty.

Though my sisters and I had inherited our father's defining features, dark hair and stormy eyes, we bore traces of our mother's grace — Skye most of all.

As I stepped back and basked in the vision of my family once more, my heart faltered. I wanted nothing more than to tell them what had happened to me. That I had died and come back. I knew they would believe me.

But the revelation would shatter our fragile peace.

They would never allow me to leave. And that would put Drakfjord, and our dragons, at grave risk. The thought of Sylvos' wrath sent a chill through me.

Our island's natural mist and jagged stony shores offered a formidable defense against attacks. And our dragons were powerful enough to deter any approaching ships if it came to it. Yet we were too small and too impoverished to afford the luxury of war.

Isolation from the rest of the world gave us peace. Though with it, we were vulnerable.

In comparison, Thornmont could unleash an endless tide of resources and creatures upon us, waging a pointless conflict that we could never hope to endure.

I must leave.

But I will be back.

I had already given my life to Sylvos once. Now it was his turn.

"Take care of the dragons," I said as a farewell.

We might need them soon.

✦✦✦

As this was my second voyage from Drakfjord to Thornmont, I was significantly less seasick. The hardest part was always tearing free from the grasp of our storm-lashed island. The ship groaned under the weight of each towering wave, as if the sea itself resented our departure.

In my first life, I was convinced we would sink.

But now, I knew better. The vessel would hold.

My quarters, though small, were opulent — a silent testament to Thornmont's wealth. I passed the long days by reading the volumes I brought along, cloistered in my cabin.

As my initial naive self, my books were filled with the fanciful tales of damsels and noble princes. But not this time. Now, my collection brimmed with strategies of war, histories soaked in blood, and the darker arts of rule.

If I was truly to tear down an empire, I needed to know which stones to shatter.

This, paired with my foresight of the next three years, would be my greatest advantage. I knew the battles Sylvos would wage, the creatures he would bind to his will, and the nations he would be most cautious of.

Knowledge was my shield, but I needed a blade.

If I could secure an ally, one with the strength to rival Thornmont, I could plant the seeds of Sylvos' ruin. I already knew exactly which kingdom would be perfect for this. Though the method in which to bind them to us didn't sit well with me...

A knock came at the door, sharp and unwelcome. My face darkened.

"Princess, are you feeling any better?"

Sylvos.

The mere sound of his voice curdled my stomach — just enough to lend truth to my lie.

"Still nauseous," I rasped. "I fear I'll be confined here for the day."

"Again?" he asked from beyond the door, his voice skeptical. "Truly?"

I reached for the bucket nearby and feigned a lazy retch to make the act believable.

That seemed to satisfy him.

"I'll be in my quarters if you feel... better," he muttered, his tone uncertain as his footsteps faded into the creaking silence of the ship.

"Hmph."

I sank deeper into the plush folds of my bed, my nose once again buried in the pages of my book.

For the entire two weeks of the voyage, I maintained my charade. My encounters with the emperor were mercifully rare, reduced to a handful of awkward moments. By the time the ship anchored, and we disembarked, my limbs were stiff from the self-imposed isolation. The servants gathered my luggage and dressed me in another off-the-shoulder gown — this one a deep stormy gray like the cliffs of Stormgard.

My initial good mood soured the moment we approached the waiting carriage.

Sylvos stood there, his hand outstretched — mimicking the posture of a gentleman.

"My bride, we will ride for the capital."

I narrowed my eyes at both him and the carriage.

In my first life, he had chosen his steed over my company.

What had changed his mind this time?

Had my avoidance piqued his curiosity?

I glanced at the guards astride their horses, all of them waiting expectantly for me to take the emperor's hand. For a moment, I considered feigning sickness again but dismissed the idea. Without bothering to mask my displeasure, I brushed past His Majesty and climbed into the carriage.

"Let us be off then," I said, settling into the seat.

Unease rippled through the servants, but Sylvos merely chuckled, the sound low and grating as he followed me in. He sat opposite me, legs crossed, his lips curled in a smile as he glanced at the dagger fastened to my hip. Raincatcher.

The emperor wore his usual leathers and armor, the sharp metallic edges glinting faintly in the dim light while his dark cape draped over his shoulders. His crown sat unnaturally still atop his wavy hair, a rigid symbol of his rule.

As the coachman snapped the reins and the horses trotted forward, I whispered a silent prayer to whichever forgotten god had granted me this second life — begging for the ride to pass in silence.

Alas, this god seemed to loathe me.

"I feel I've nearly forgotten your face," Sylvos spoke.

"Strange," I replied, uninterested.

My head rested on my hand as I stared out the window, fully focused on the seaside town slipping past. Children's laughter echoed in the distance. Fishermen hauled in their nets with rough hands. And women bustled through the streets with baskets of laundry perched on their hips.

Towns that surrendered easily to the emperor retained their wealth and prosperity. While those that resisted... Well. I'd seen the destruction Sylvos left behind when he felt offended.

"I noticed your accent isn't as strong as your family's," he commented.

"Interesting," I murmured.

Silence.

"Have you visited Fayndor before?"

"No."

Silence again.

Sylvos shifted in his seat.

"We haven't gotten to know one another," he drawled on. "This union might take some... adjustment."

"As you say," I muttered, my attention fixed on the window — the rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels far more appealing than his existence.

But my indifference must have pricked his pride. He shifted closer, his cold hands suddenly clasping mine. I jolted at the touch, instinctively pressing myself further away. A dangerous glint flickered in his dark eyes.

"I might be mistaken," he said, his voice soft yet chilling, "but I sense you fear me."

As I held Sylvos' gaze, a cold tremor raced through my veins.

He saw right through me...

How could I have hoped otherwise?

"Though perhaps there's something else," he speculated further. "A hatred stemming from your fear. Like I had somehow deeply wronged you."

Death bells rang through me at how accurate he was.

"Of course I fear my ruler," I stammered, struggling to gather my composure. "You are... an imposing figure."

He shook his head slowly, a smile creeping across his lips.

"Out of my hundred concubines, you are the only one who trembles as if I might snuff out your life at any moment."

My breath caught in my throat. 

Was I truly so transparent?

My chest throbbed as if Briarvex still lay embedded within me.

"Will you?" I dared to ask. "Kill me?"

He pondered the question, a teasing glint in his eyes. But knowing what I know, his playful demeanor was nothing short of terrifying.

"Only if you deserve it," he joked with a smirk.

My face hardened to stone.

"And what if I'm falsely accused?" I pressed.

He shrugged, a dismissive gesture that prickled the hairs on my neck.

"I am not so cruel as to punish someone without substantial evidence."

I almost scoffed at his claim.

Not yet, I wanted to say.

Taking in my silence, Sylvos leaned back into his seat with a tired sigh.

"I understand," he said, almost softly. "I am still a stranger to you. Someone who has whisked you away from your dear family. But perhaps, in time, you will come to love me and find comfort within my inner court."

I had loved you, I spat in my mind. And you killed me all the same.

"What about you?" I asked. "Have you come to love any of the women in your harem?"

I already knew the answer.

"I love my people," he said. "And I shall perform my duty as their ruler."

I knew what that last part meant. The monarchs of Thornmont had been cursed with infertility for as long as they ruled these lands. They'd court thousands of concubines in hopes of siring at least one heir.

Women that honored them with this blessing were crowned as empress and celebrated as though they were divinely chosen.

My heart sank.

Not for the first time, I wondered about what had happened after my death. Did my corpse rot upon the walls as Sylvos promised? Did he find himself another woman to sire him an heir?

I wished he remained childless.

I wished that well after my bones began to fall apart, he had come to learn of my innocence and realized his mistake. I wished it ate at him like the crows that picked apart my body. And that he had to live with that knowledge for the rest of his miserable life.

"I think I shall sleep while we travel," I replied, my voice cold and distant.

Anything to escape his presence, if only for a while.

"Very well, Princess."

It took far too long for my body to relax enough to drift into sleep. But even in slumber, there was no escape from him. Sylvos haunted me there as well. Over and over, he drove his sword through my heart as the court's shrill laughter echoed around me.

The journey by carriage stretched on for four relentless weeks. We departed from Meadowwyn, one of the kingdoms Sylvos had already conquered and reduced to a province of his empire. The road wound through verdant fields and quiet valleys before leading us into the Crownland Province — the original territory Thornmont belonged to.

The landscape grew oppressive as we pressed deeper into his domain. Gnarled willow forests loomed on either side, while steep mountains closed in around us. The carriage jolted and creaked, each bump threatening to rattle me apart.

To salvage some semblance of peace, I came up with a clever ploy. I stayed awake when Sylvos rode outside and feigned slumber when we shared the carriage.

But this strategy proved its own torment.

In sleep, the nightmare of that day came.

And the worst of my dreams was not the violence.

It was something quieter, more serene.

I saw myself in a nursing room, cradling a silver-haired babe in my arms. His soft curls brushed against my fingers as I lovingly pushed them back, his stormy eyes the same as mine.

He's perfect, I thought. He would be good, just. He would be loved.

But first, I shall tear that unborn bastard from your corpse and feed it to the hounds.

I woke with a jolt, tears staining my cheeks.

Panicked, I frantically wiped my eyes, terrified of the emperor seeing me like this. But the carriage was empty and quiet, save for the steady clop of hooves outside. I glanced through the window. The sun had already begun its descent, casting long shadows across the landscape.

"You're awake," a voice called, unnervingly close.

I turned, heart racing.

Sylvos trotted alongside the carriage on his steed. His head tilted just enough to catch a better glimpse of me.

"Unfortunately," I murmured.

Sylvos mistook my comment for humor, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.

"We've arrived at the capital. The fortress is just up ahead," he said.

I turned my head, unimpressed.

The city sprawled before me, a labyrinth of towering stone buildings, their chimneys belching smoke into the darkening sky. The road sloped upward toward the mountain, where the true crown of the empire perched.

Halfway up the pointed mountain, its towering walls loomed. Sharp spires jutted out from within, each one reaching higher with the central spire piercing the clouds themselves. Even from this distance, I could see the twisted vines of ancient magic coiling around the walls and towers, their thorns jutting out like cruel blades.

How many times had I watched Sylvos return from conquest to mount the heads of his enemies on those very spikes?

"Welcome to Dornhold Fortress, Princess," Sylvos said. "Our arrival is quite late. The servants will prepare you for the welcoming banquet."

The welcoming banquet... What a horrid affair.

"I look forward to it," I lied.

✦✦✦

As night had already fallen, the had servants rushed to get me ready.

I stood before the towering double doors that guarded the entrance to the banquet hall. Its steely patterns polished enough to show my reflection. The walls of the corridor, carved from the dark gray stone of the surrounding mountains, loomed ominously. Twisted vines coiled around the pillars, their thorns jutting out dangerously.

Maids fussed over my gown, their hands trembling.

As per tradition, each new concubine's arrival was marked by a welcoming banquet. By the end of the night, the woman would be assigned her rank, sealing her fate within the emperor's harem.

For most, it would be the last night they spent with him before fading into obscurity among the lower ranks.

"Princess, are you certain about the dress?" one of the older maids asked cautiously. "You may not be familiar with our customs yet..."

"I'm sure," I replied.

I knew the eyes behind those doors were eagerly awaiting the color of my gown.

Technically, any hue besides white could be worn by an unranked concubine. Once her position was assigned, her garments would reflect her position. Most women chose colors that straddled the middle ground, while others simply wore what suited them best.

In my first life, I had naively donned black at my banquet. That shade was reserved for the three highest ranked concubines. The Nightshades. As the only concubine to hold the title of Princess, I thought it would be a given.

Yet that night, I was named Clover.

The lowest rank.

It was a position reserved for the bottom twenty concubines. So insultingly low that we had to wear green. The same color of servants and sentries.

The doors creaked open, and I straightened. I could feel Raincatcher strapped to my thigh beneath my gown — a small comfort.

"Introducing Princess Raine Stjorme of Drakfjord," a bellowing voice sang from within.

Holding my chin high, I stepped into the hall.

And as I did, silence fell.

✦✦✦