In the Shadow of the Crown

The royal hall of Luvein shimmered under the glow of golden chandeliers, the polished marble floor reflecting the candlelight like the surface of a still lake. The noblemen, gathered in silence, held their breath, their gazes locked onto the grand doors.

The chamberlain struck his staff against the floor.

“His Majesty, Emperor Raen.”

The doors swung open, and the hall plunged into stunned silence.

Raen strode in with effortless authority, his black and gold imperial attire perfectly tailored, exuding power and control.

But it was not he who stole the breath of the nobles.

It was her.

Eliza.

She was a masterpiece.

Her rich brown hair cascaded in soft waves down her back, the delicate strands gleaming like polished chestnut in the candlelight. She wore a gown of deep crimson, the color of freshly spilled wine, clinging to her form in an elegant yet commanding way.

And then…they saw them.

Dark, unmistakable marks adorned her neck, her collarbones, and vanished beneath the fabric of her gown.

Marks of ownership.

Every man in the hall stiffened, fists tightening at their sides.

Raen led his doll to the center of the hall, his voice smooth and commanding.

“Tonight, you will witness perfection.”

***

The noblemen braced themselves as Raen turned to Eliza.

“Kneel.”

Without hesitation, she obeyed.

Her descent was graceful, controlled, the silk of her gown pooling around her like liquid ruby. A doll in perfect motion.

A murmur rippled through the nobles.

It was impossible.

Not even the most well-trained courtesan or the most obedient wife could respond with such immediate, unquestioning precision.

Raen let the tension build.

Then he lifted a single finger.

“Stand.”

Eliza rose with the same silent perfection.

But Raen was careful.

The child.

His golden eyes flickered briefly with awareness. He gave his orders swiftly, never allowing her to remain in a kneeling position for too long.

Because she carried his heir.

His greatest treasure.

He smirked, watching the growing unease among the nobles.

They wanted to ask.

They wanted to demand answers.

But they knew, Raen never gave anything freely.

One nobleman finally dared to speak.

“Your Majesty…does she feel? Does she think?”

Raen chuckled.

“Does it matter?”

He tilted Eliza’s chin upward, golden eyes gleaming.

“Who do you belong to?”

Her voice was soft, unwavering, absolute.

“I belong to His Majesty, Emperor Raen.”

Silence.

Then another nobleman, unable to suppress his envy, spoke cautiously.

“Is there…no way to create another?”

Raen’s gaze sharpened.

A cruel smile curved his lips.

“No.”

And that single word crushed every last hope they had.

Because they had come here hoping for a method.

A way to replicate perfection.

But they now understood the undeniable truth.

There was only one Eliza.

And she was his alone.

***

The conversation shifted.

The noblemen tried to mask their disappointment, instead asking about her behavior, her responses, her daily routine.

Raen answered only what amused him, watching their expressions darken with envy.

And then…he decided to show them more.

“A demonstration.”

A single clap of his hands, and music began to play.

“Eliza. Dance.”

She moved immediately, flawlessly.

Her body flowed like water, every step calculated yet effortless.

And then Raen stepped forward.

The nobles sucked in a breath.

They had not expected this.

Raen took her hand, leading her.

Their movements were synchronized, breathtaking.

Each step, each turn, was a display of absolute control.

Eliza's brown hair whipped through the air, her gown swirling in mesmerizing patterns.

And then...Raen spoke.

“Eliza. Kiss me.”

A command.

A loud, undeniable command.

Eliza halted.

Then, as if pulled by invisible strings, she leaned in.

And in front of every noble present.

She kissed him.

Not gently.

Not sweetly.

But with pure, unfiltered passion.

The nobles gritted their teeth.

It was too much.

Raen smirked against her lips, then broke the kiss abruptly, arrogantly.

He turned to the men, completely satisfied.

“That is enough for tonight.”

The noblemen bowed, suppressing their frustration.

One by one, they departed, filled with silent resentment.

But Raen?

Raen had won.

And he knew it.

***

When they arrived at Eliza’s chambers, Raen issued his final orders for the night.

“Prepare her bath.”

The servants moved quickly, ensuring the water was warm but not harsh.

Eliza stepped into the bath, and the maids washed her gently, ensuring that her perfect skin remained untouched by rough hands.

No marks. No imperfections.

Only his.

When the bath was finished, Raen ordered:

“Eliza. Stand.”

She obeyed, the water trickling down her skin.

The maids dried her carefully, then applied the scent of roses to her body.

By the time she was dressed in soft silk for the night, she was ready.

Raen dismissed the servants.

Then, without hesitation, he lifted her into his arms.

She was weightless in his grasp.

Like a perfect doll.

His perfect doll.

He laid her down on the bed with the utmost care.

And then, he whispered the final order of the night.

“Sleep.”

Eliza’s golden-amber eyes fluttered closed.

Raen watched her for a moment.

The gentle rise and fall of her chest.

The faint scent of roses filling the air.

Then, he reached for her hair.

Letting the brown strands slip through his fingers, he pressed a soft kiss to them.

And in a voice softer than the night itself, he murmured:

“Mine.”

And with that, the night ended.