The hall was silent but for the rain hammering the stained-glass windows. Knight Serel knelt on one knee, soaked in blood and stormwater, her sword planted before her. Dark hair clung to her jaw—what hadn't escaped the tight braid down her back. A thin cut split the old scar on her neck, fresh red over pale silver.
"I swear it," she rasped. "Body, blade, and breath—I am yours, Queen Eira."
From the obsidian throne, the queen rose. Barefoot, her silk robes whispering like secrets. She descended the stairs slowly, each step silent, impossible to ignore.
"You don't even know what that means," Eira said, her pale violet eyes glittering beneath a delicate circlet of moonstone.
"I don't care."
"You should."
Eira stopped in front of her. She tilted Serel's chin with two fingers, cool against storm-warmed skin.
"Oaths made in this hall bind the flesh," she said. "Yours will burn for me now. Feed me. Obey me."
"I give it willingly."
"Then rise, Knight Serel. And feel the bond take root."
As Serel stood, the oath struck like a lightning bolt through her core—an invisible coil tightening around her spine, flooding heat through her veins. Her breath caught. Her steel-gray eyes widened, for the first time in years, in something like fear.
Eira's lips curled. "Ah. There it is."
Serel staggered. "What… what is this?"
"You swore loyalty," Eira said, voice soft as silk sliding off skin. "The Binding Oath now lives in your blood. Crave me. Obey me. Until your body forgets how not to."
"You tricked me."
"No," Eira murmured, stepping close, close enough that the soft scent of winter blossoms and cold metal wrapped around Serel's senses. "You offered yourself. I simply accepted."
Then she kissed her.
Serel had faced blades and monsters, had survived screams and siege fire—but nothing had ever broken her like the feel of Queen Eira's lips, cool and commanding. Magic surged with the kiss, crackling beneath her skin, pulsing between her thighs.
Eira pulled back. Her voice was a whisper against Serel's mouth.
"Serve me properly."
She turned without waiting, silk slipping from her shoulders as she walked—bare, pale, perfect. Candlelight caught the silver thread woven into her braids, long platinum hair swaying like mist.
Serel followed. Her armor felt too tight, her breath too loud. She unbuckled each piece with shaking fingers, letting them fall with heavy clanks. The last thing she dropped was her sword.
In the queen's private chamber, lit only by soft runes and flickering firelight, Eira waited at the bed, nude and regal as a goddess.
"Undress," she said. "Slowly."
Serel obeyed. The bond hummed with every act of submission, every inch of skin revealed. Her body was strong, scarred, made for war—but now it trembled like a supplicant's.
Eira circled her, one pale hand brushing the old wound along Serel's collarbone.
"Tell me," she said, voice low, "what does your loyalty feel like now?"
"Like I'll die if you don't touch me."
"Good."
Eira pushed her back onto the bed. Climbed on top. Their bodies met with heat and friction, skin slick with need. Eira's mouth moved over Serel's collarbone, her breasts, her stomach—until the knight was writhing under her.
"Don't come," the queen whispered.
Serel whimpered. "I can't—"
"You will. Because I command it. And you're mine now."
She slid lower. Tongue and fingers both. Serel arched, clenched, held back on the edge like her life depended on it.
Only when Eira straddled her, taking her in, slow and deep, did she whisper, "Now."
Serel came with a cry, body convulsing beneath the queen. The bond lit up like lightning, magic flaring through the room. The runes on the walls blazed for a moment—and then faded to a soft glow.
Eira laid on her chest, lips at her throat.
"You serve me well," she murmured.
Serel's voice was raw. "Is it over?"
Eira chuckled. "Darling… that was only the first night."