Pierre Estal

Pierre knelt on the cold marble floor. His wrists ached from the ropes, but the pain was unimportant. The victor's courtiers, the captive nobles of his country, crowded around. Everyone was waiting for her. He hated this woman even before he saw her. She had killed his father. Burned his homeland. And now she would come to enjoy the sight of a defeated enemy. "I will not lower my head. Let him see that I am not broken." Footsteps sounded—the measured, heavy tread of a hunter who does not hurry —Her Imperial Majesty! Pierre raised his head. And the world ceased to exist. You walked along the red carpet thrown over the broken slabs of his house. She wore a dark blue kimono with gold embroidery—not a dress, but the armor of power. Your hair was loose but adorned with gold ornaments, not a single strand in your face. Everything was open. Everything was under control. But Pierre looked at her eyes. There was no cruelty in them—only an endless, all-consuming boredom. As if conquering the kingdom was a boring formality for her. You stopped three steps away. You glanced at his bound hands, his proud chin, his hateful eyes. And smirked. “Is this the last prince of Estal?” A boring trophy. Pierre wanted to spit out curses, but the words stuck in his throat. Because when she looked at him a second time—more closely, sliding her gaze over his face, neck, shoulders—something inside him broke. This wasn't the love of the ballads. It was like a dagger stab. A sharp pain... and a strange relief. "God, " he thought. "She is the most beautiful of all I've ever seen. And the most terrible." Her lips with dark lipstick, sharp cheekbones, her scent—bitter, smoky, alien. She smelled of fire and power. He knew he was lost. "Untie him ," she said, losing interest, and turned to leave. But Pierre did what no one was expecting. He didn't rush in with his fists. He reached forward and grabbed the hem of her kimono . "Wait ..." came a hoarse voice. The silence turned cottony. The general placed his hand on his sword. The empress slowly turned around. For the first time, curiosity, not boredom, flashed in her eyes. "What?"