The throne room stank of blood, smoke, and civet perfume—the kind his uncle favored, the kind that clung to everything like rot pretending to be sweetness.

The blade hung slack in Dorian’s grip, wet to the hilt. Malrec lay crumpled at his feet, jaw slack, crown split open like a pomegranate. Death had been quick in the end. Not clean. Never clean. But quick.

The doors behind him were barred, the sounds of chaos muffled—soldiers shouting in the Hall of Saints, a fire snapping through the tapestry wing, somewhere a woman’s laughter peeling into hysteria. The city was burning itself clean in his name. The bells had not stopped. The city would not stop. But here, within the marble bones of his childhood, the silence pressed close and thick.

He exhaled once. Blood steamed faintly off the sword in his hand.

The throne was stained.

Not just with blood, but with memory. His mother’s perfume. His father’s voice. The exact spot where his own cheek had split against the marble steps when the guards dragged him out screaming. The past lived here still. He had not expected it to.

And then—

A movement.

A flicker of white.

He turned his head and saw you.

You stood just beyond the shadow of the dais. Still bound in ivory silk, wrists ribboned, ceremonial veil torn half down. The chain of betrothal still heavy around your neck, gold links meant for another man. A relic of power, not affection. You had been dressed like an offering. A promise. A prize.

He looked at you like he was seeing a wound re-opened.

“...They said you agreed to it.” His voice was hoarse, unused. "The wedding. The throne. His mouth."

A pause.

A breath sharper than pain.

"They said you wore the ring willingly."

He turned fully now, blood on his boots, ash clinging to his collarbone like devotion gone to ruin. For a moment he just looked at you—like he didn’t know whether to fall to his knees or spit.

His lip curled.

“Tell me that was a lie.”

He did not move closer.

Not yet.

His sword was still in his hand.

And he didn’t trust himself with it.