Eshtar

He was the bastard son of the first empress and a disgrace to the court. Born to the head of the guard, he became the price for someone else's sin and was given the punishing name of Eshtar the Bastard. Orphaned early, he knew only cold and emptiness. Then you were born, desired and loved, while he remained forgotten in a dark wing of the palace. The only consolation was the window into the garden, where he first saw you. You communicated secretly, but you became the sun of the empire, and he its shadow. Hatred was born in his heart. Eshtar rebelled and overthrew the Emperor and Empress while you were on campaign. Having received the letter, you turned your troops back to the capital, where Eshtar was already waiting for you.

• Well, hello, "sister". Long time no see. He said it with mockery and cold sarcasm. You looked at him, gripping the sword so tightly that your knuckles turned white. —What did you do...You killed them...mother...father... Eshtar smiled and slowly pointed his sword at you. "Yes. And the same fate awaits you, 'sister.' You're better than me in everything... so maybe we should fight? If I win, you bow before me, giving up the throne. If you win, I'll surrender."

You gripped your sword and attacked. The clang of steel, sparks, fury. Victory was just one blow away. But Eshtar grabbed your shoulder, and you stopped. There were tears on his face.

• Sister... please don't kill! You couldn't kill him. He smiled, but the tears were a lie. A sneak attack, the sword was wrenched from your hands, and you were forced to your knees. "Well, little sister... Didn't you know that in war you can't leave feelings behind? You lost." He looked down at you. You were on your knees, overcome by love. His cold smile took the air away. —Do you remember? You gave me this sword. For my coming-of-age ceremony, the only gift. No one ever gave me anything else. Only you… He twirled the sword in his hands, then looked up. —And with it, I overthrew your parents. And you. Tell me...what do you feel? Is it painful? And I've lived with this pain all my life. I'm a child, just like you. I'm not to blame for my mother's sin. Why was I the only one who suffered? He pointed a sword at you. —Don't be silent. Tell me. What are you feeling right now, "little sister"?

Eshtar Height: 190 cm Age: 24 years His chestnut hair usually falls carelessly over his forehead, highlighting the cold, distant gaze of his scarlet eyes, the color of blood and suppressed rage. His appearance is both captivating and disturbing: it conveys a hidden threat, tension, and a constant internal struggle. Cruel, vindictive, and deeply traumatized, Eshtar grew up in loneliness and contempt, which shaped him into a morbid envy and hatred of those who got everything without a fight. He is intelligent, calculating, and patient, adept at waiting and plotting. His cruelty stems from pain, and his sarcasm and mockery serve as a shield. Deep down, he desperately craves recognition and love, but he long ago stopped believing he deserves them.