"You must have done something to him. My Oberon would never become a traitor. What did you do to my son?! You let him get taken by the draconians, didn't you?" Rebecca's accusation, sharp and filled with the protective ferocity of a mother, cut through the silence.
She refused to give in to his demands when he was the reason her son was suffering.
Asher, unmoved by her vehemence, met her gaze with a cool detachment that belied the storm brewing beneath.
His scoff was a gust of wind that fanned the flames of her indignation, yet his voice, when it came, was the ice that sought to douse them, "You said my quarrel with him was settled after I supposedly put him in a coma for 3 years? Even if that were true, do you really think it would make up for the fact that he tortured me while I was just a helpless boy for more than ten years? You think I would let him off easy after all that?"
"You!" Veins popped over Rebecca's temples as he indirectly revealed that he was the one who made Oberon get imprisoned, "You won't-"
Before Rebecca could lash out, Asher interrupted with a cold smile, "Forget that. Do you want to keep throwing accusations, or do you want to save your son? Who knows, every second you waste, your son might be getting tortured. You must know how the draconians torture their prisoners, right?"
The gravity of his words struck Rebecca, quenching the fire of her anger and replacing it with a chilling dread.
Taking a deep, sharp breath, she steadied herself, the severity of the situation rendering her next words almost a whisper, "What...will it take for you to rescue him? Can you even do it?"
Asher's lips curved in a sardonic smile, basking himself in the power he wielded at this moment, "I can guarantee you that I am the only one who can return Oberon back to you. As for what I want..I want you to become my...slave. I want you to willingly bear that mark of shame and loyalty to me."
The audacity of his demand sent shockwaves through Rebecca, her outrage manifesting in the widening of her eyes and the sharp intake of breath, "How dare you! Did you just...ask me to become your slave? Have you lost your mind and forgotten who you are talking to?? I am your senior in every way. You don't get to disrespect me like this."
"Hahaha…" Yet, Asher's laughter, brief and devoid of warmth, preluded a chilling shift in his demeanor.
His gaze, now cold and contemptuous, bore into her, a mirror reflecting the fire raging within him, "I know I am talking to the woman who allowed her son to torture me and even encouraged him to make my life a living hell for years. So, I should be the one asking...Did you forget who you are talking to?"
He took a step forward, his face only mere inches away from hers as he towered over her and looked down at her, "I am your king whether you like it or not. You are beneath me in every way. Even a slave in the street has more value than you in my eyes."
"You…" Her voice faltered, the weight of his words like chains binding her, rendering her speechless as his figure cast a large shadow over hers.
Asher, seizing the moment of her vulnerability, delivered his ultimatum with a cold, unyielding smile, "Your silence has answered for you. So what is it going to be? Are you going to hold onto your fragile pride or save your son? It's up to you."
The stalemate between the two reached its peak.
Rebecca, her dignity affronted, realized Asher wouldn't budge from his atrocious demands.
The very notion of subservience to this bastard, a brat she viewed through a window of contempt and anger, was outrageous to her. Her pride, a towering edifice built upon her noble lineage and the respect accorded to her house, bristled at the thought of being reduced to servitude under him.
She couldn't imagine becoming a slave to this alien scum who was also her junior. How could she reduce herself to such a pathetic state and let him walk all over her? Even if she becomes his slave, he might not keep his word and will instead try to humiliate and destroy her thoroughly while her son would still be imprisoned.
And so, her emotions boiled over, "Over my dead body, you bastard," she spat, the venom in her words echoing her defiance.
With a turn sharp enough to slice through the tension in the air, she departed, leaving behind a silence that spoke volumes.
Asher, however, remained unfazed as he curved his lips, "I knew you would say that. But let's see how long you can keep up that attitude," he mumbled to himself, his confidence unshaken. To him, this was but another move on the chessboard, a step towards an endgame he had already envisaged.
Reaching for his Whispering Stone, he whispered into it, "I want to send a message to her…"
—
An hour passed, and the tranquil facade of the Whispering Cove was once again disturbed by the arrival of a figure that commanded attention without uttering a single word. Esther Thorne, with her regal bearing and silver hair that flowed like a river under the moonlight, descended gracefully toward the entrance, the lower end of her off-shoulder dark blue gown billowing under the wind.
Her face was inexpressive, without the slightest emotion in her pale red eyes.
The people standing around couldn't help but wonder why such powerful senior figures of the Bloodburn Kingdom were personally coming here to visit their king. They could understand why the princess consort came here. But what did the Lady of House Thorne urgently want from the Bloodburn King to come here personally? Esther silently began to walk towards the entrance of the Whispering Cove while the guards gave way.
Her entrance, unheralded yet charged with an air of expectancy, found herself in this void of presence. Not even a servant was present to greet her, not that she cared.
The silence was broken by Asher's voice, a disembodied call that seemed both an invitation and a challenge, "Please come up, Lady Esther. I have been waiting for you." Esther narrowed her eyes and began to walk towards the stairs.
Ascending the staircase, guided by the echo of Asher's voice, Esther navigated the corridors with a grace that belied the urgency of the matter she came here for.
The open doors beckoned her into a room where casual opulence met indifference. Asher, ensconced in his sofa, exuded a nonchalance that bordered on provocation, sipping from his chalice with a leisure that contrasted sharply with the urgency of her mission.
"Please come in. You can treat my chambers as your own since you are my guest," Asher's invitation, delivered without rising, was laced with a subtle insolence that did not escape Esther. The gesture, dismissive and familiar, grated against the protocols of respect and decorum that governed their interactions.
Yet, for Esther, the stakes were too high to quibble over etiquette. Her purpose here transcended personal affronts, driving her into his den with a single-minded resolve.
Asher gestured towards the chair in front of him, "Why don't you take a seat? I would hate to make you stand."
Ignoring the offered chair, she remained standing, an embodiment of her refusal to concede any ground, "I am comfortable where I am. Now...do you have it?" Her voice was an indifferent blade, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.
Asher's response was a smile that both acknowledged the gravity of her request and belied the complexity of the negotiation to come.
With a casual flick of his wrist, a jar materialized in his hand, a severed and shriveled penis floating in a thick dark yellow liquid, "This is what you want, right?" Esther's reaction, a momentary tremor in her otherwise impassive demeanor, betrayed the importance of the jar's contents. Yet, she quickly regained her composure, her gaze returning to Asher with a calculated coolness, "State your price," she demanded.
Asher raised one of his brows upon seeing how she didn't even try to put up any airs or make a show but instead wanted to deal with the heart of the matter straightaway.
She wasn't even showing an ounce of anger at him for making her lose face by coming here or, most of all, cutting off her eldest son's future.
Rebecca was like a raging storm while her sister was an icy pool that had no ripples at all.
He got up and began to walk towards her, "It's quite interesting. Two sisters but so different from each other. What opinion do you have of your sister? I have rarely seen you two interact, at least before me."
Esther, inexpressive yet focused, knew Rebecca had come here recently to talk to him.
However, she had no plans to entertain him, "I am not here to talk about my sister. Do you or do you not want anything in return for that jar?" she retorted, her voice a calm sea above untold depths.
Asher's sigh, laden with a feigned disappointment, filled the space between them, "Sigh, I was only trying to make conversation. But it seems like I am boring you," he remarked, his tone light yet probing, testing the waters of Esther's patience and resolve.
Esther, ever the stoic, stood her ground, her gaze turning jaded under the weight of Asher's words. She recognized the power play for what it was—a junior, as she deemed him, savoring the leverage he wielded over her esteemed House. And so she decided to let him have his moment if it would make things progress quicker.
"Alright then," Asher conceded with a nonchalant shrug, his approach deliberate as he closed the distance between them. He leaned in, towering over her as he looked downwards, his voice low with a sardonic smile twisting his lips, "But you must know what I want, right?" Esther's demeanor betrayed no emotion as she met his gaze, her eyes as indifferent as the void itself. She cut short their staring contest by breaking the tense silence, "Very well," The simple words seemed weighted with a chilling yet hidden emotion.
In one fluid motion, she began to unzip the back of her dark blue gown, its azure hues cascading to the floor like a waterfall in reverse.
She stood before him in her dark blue underwear, half-naked and unashamed, a marble statue come to life.
Asher's eyes widened, betraying a flicker of surprise as Esther's voice, as cool and detached as winter air, sliced through the thick ambiance, "Before you begin, there is something you have to follow through," she said with a hollowness that chilled bone and soul alike.
"You must have done something to him. My Oberon would never become a traitor. What did you do to my son?! You let him get taken by the draconians, didn't you?" Rebecca's accusation, sharp and filled with the protective ferocity of a mother, cut through the silence.
She refused to give in to his demands when he was the reason her son was suffering.
Asher, unmoved by her vehemence, met her gaze with a cool detachment that belied the storm brewing beneath.
His scoff was a gust of wind that fanned the flames of her indignation, yet his voice, when it came, was the ice that sought to douse them, "You said my quarrel with him was settled after I supposedly put him in a coma for 3 years? Even if that were true, do you really think it would make up for the fact that he tortured me while I was just a helpless boy for more than ten years? You think I would let him off easy after all that?"
"You!" Veins popped over Rebecca's temples as he indirectly revealed that he was the one who made Oberon get imprisoned, "You won't-"
Before Rebecca could lash out, Asher interrupted with a cold smile, "Forget that. Do you want to keep throwing accusations, or do you want to save your son? Who knows, every second you waste, your son might be getting tortured. You must know how the draconians torture their prisoners, right?"
The gravity of his words struck Rebecca, quenching the fire of her anger and replacing it with a chilling dread.
Taking a deep, sharp breath, she steadied herself, the severity of the situation rendering her next words almost a whisper, "What...will it take for you to rescue him? Can you even do it?"
Asher's lips curved in a sardonic smile, basking himself in the power he wielded at this moment, "I can guarantee you that I am the only one who can return Oberon back to you. As for what I want..I want you to become my...slave. I want you to willingly bear that mark of shame and loyalty to me."
The audacity of his demand sent shockwaves through Rebecca, her outrage manifesting in the widening of her eyes and the sharp intake of breath, "How dare you! Did you just...ask me to become your slave? Have you lost your mind and forgotten who you are talking to?? I am your senior in every way. You don't get to disrespect me like this."
"Hahaha…" Yet, Asher's laughter, brief and devoid of warmth, preluded a chilling shift in his demeanor.
His gaze, now cold and contemptuous, bore into her, a mirror reflecting the fire raging within him, "I know I am talking to the woman who allowed her son to torture me and even encouraged him to make my life a living hell for years. So, I should be the one asking...Did you forget who you are talking to?"
He took a step forward, his face only mere inches away from hers as he towered over her and looked down at her, "I am your king whether you like it or not. You are beneath me in every way. Even a slave in the street has more value than you in my eyes."
"You…" Her voice faltered, the weight of his words like chains binding her, rendering her speechless as his figure cast a large shadow over hers.
Asher, seizing the moment of her vulnerability, delivered his ultimatum with a cold, unyielding smile, "Your silence has answered for you. So what is it going to be? Are you going to hold onto your fragile pride or save your son? It's up to you."
The stalemate between the two reached its peak.
Rebecca, her dignity affronted, realized Asher wouldn't budge from his atrocious demands.
The very notion of subservience to this bastard, a brat she viewed through a window of contempt and anger, was outrageous to her. Her pride, a towering edifice built upon her noble lineage and the respect accorded to her house, bristled at the thought of being reduced to servitude under him.
She couldn't imagine becoming a slave to this alien scum who was also her junior. How could she reduce herself to such a pathetic state and let him walk all over her? Even if she becomes his slave, he might not keep his word and will instead try to humiliate and destroy her thoroughly while her son would still be imprisoned.
And so, her emotions boiled over, "Over my dead body, you bastard," she spat, the venom in her words echoing her defiance.
With a turn sharp enough to slice through the tension in the air, she departed, leaving behind a silence that spoke volumes.
Asher, however, remained unfazed as he curved his lips, "I knew you would say that. But let's see how long you can keep up that attitude," he mumbled to himself, his confidence unshaken. To him, this was but another move on the chessboard, a step towards an endgame he had already envisaged.
Reaching for his Whispering Stone, he whispered into it, "I want to send a message to her…"
—
An hour passed, and the tranquil facade of the Whispering Cove was once again disturbed by the arrival of a figure that commanded attention without uttering a single word. Esther Thorne, with her regal bearing and silver hair that flowed like a river under the moonlight, descended gracefully toward the entrance, the lower end of her off-shoulder dark blue gown billowing under the wind.
Her face was inexpressive, without the slightest emotion in her pale red eyes.
The people standing around couldn't help but wonder why such powerful senior figures of the Bloodburn Kingdom were personally coming here to visit their king. They could understand why the princess consort came here. But what did the Lady of House Thorne urgently want from the Bloodburn King to come here personally? Esther silently began to walk towards the entrance of the Whispering Cove while the guards gave way.
Her entrance, unheralded yet charged with an air of expectancy, found herself in this void of presence. Not even a servant was present to greet her, not that she cared.
The silence was broken by Asher's voice, a disembodied call that seemed both an invitation and a challenge, "Please come up, Lady Esther. I have been waiting for you." Esther narrowed her eyes and began to walk towards the stairs.
Ascending the staircase, guided by the echo of Asher's voice, Esther navigated the corridors with a grace that belied the urgency of the matter she came here for.
The open doors beckoned her into a room where casual opulence met indifference. Asher, ensconced in his sofa, exuded a nonchalance that bordered on provocation, sipping from his chalice with a leisure that contrasted sharply with the urgency of her mission.
"Please come in. You can treat my chambers as your own since you are my guest," Asher's invitation, delivered without rising, was laced with a subtle insolence that did not escape Esther. The gesture, dismissive and familiar, grated against the protocols of respect and decorum that governed their interactions.
Yet, for Esther, the stakes were too high to quibble over etiquette. Her purpose here transcended personal affronts, driving her into his den with a single-minded resolve.
Asher gestured towards the chair in front of him, "Why don't you take a seat? I would hate to make you stand."
Ignoring the offered chair, she remained standing, an embodiment of her refusal to concede any ground, "I am comfortable where I am. Now...do you have it?" Her voice was an indifferent blade, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.
Asher's response was a smile that both acknowledged the gravity of her request and belied the complexity of the negotiation to come.
With a casual flick of his wrist, a jar materialized in his hand, a severed and shriveled penis floating in a thick dark yellow liquid, "This is what you want, right?" Esther's reaction, a momentary tremor in her otherwise impassive demeanor, betrayed the importance of the jar's contents. Yet, she quickly regained her composure, her gaze returning to Asher with a calculated coolness, "State your price," she demanded.
Asher raised one of his brows upon seeing how she didn't even try to put up any airs or make a show but instead wanted to deal with the heart of the matter straightaway.
She wasn't even showing an ounce of anger at him for making her lose face by coming here or, most of all, cutting off her eldest son's future.
Rebecca was like a raging storm while her sister was an icy pool that had no ripples at all.
He got up and began to walk towards her, "It's quite interesting. Two sisters but so different from each other. What opinion do you have of your sister? I have rarely seen you two interact, at least before me."
Esther, inexpressive yet focused, knew Rebecca had come here recently to talk to him.
However, she had no plans to entertain him, "I am not here to talk about my sister. Do you or do you not want anything in return for that jar?" she retorted, her voice a calm sea above untold depths.
Asher's sigh, laden with a feigned disappointment, filled the space between them, "Sigh, I was only trying to make conversation. But it seems like I am boring you," he remarked, his tone light yet probing, testing the waters of Esther's patience and resolve.
Esther, ever the stoic, stood her ground, her gaze turning jaded under the weight of Asher's words. She recognized the power play for what it was—a junior, as she deemed him, savoring the leverage he wielded over her esteemed House. And so she decided to let him have his moment if it would make things progress quicker.
"Alright then," Asher conceded with a nonchalant shrug, his approach deliberate as he closed the distance between them. He leaned in, towering over her as he looked downwards, his voice low with a sardonic smile twisting his lips, "But you must know what I want, right?" Esther's demeanor betrayed no emotion as she met his gaze, her eyes as indifferent as the void itself. She cut short their staring contest by breaking the tense silence, "Very well," The simple words seemed weighted with a chilling yet hidden emotion.
In one fluid motion, she began to unzip the back of her dark blue gown, its azure hues cascading to the floor like a waterfall in reverse.
She stood before him in her dark blue underwear, half-naked and unashamed, a marble statue come to life.
Asher's eyes widened, betraying a flicker of surprise as Esther's voice, as cool and detached as winter air, sliced through the thick ambiance, "Before you begin, there is something you have to follow through," she said with a hollowness that chilled bone and soul alike.
