HOST. (My Hero Academia)

End of the God Queen

Year 445 BC

Ashura woke to the warm sun filtering through the silk curtains, the sheets around her tangled in disarray. Her body stretched, the satisfying tension in her muscles reminding her of the busy night before. The four women in her bed, still deep in slumber, were evidence of that. She moved to the edge of the bed, paying them no mind. The clink of jewelry caught her ear as one of them stirred, but Ashura’s focus had already shifted.

She snapped her fingers, and two servants entered silently. They bowed their heads as they carried in a shendyt. Ashura stood tall, towering over them at seven feet, her powerful frame casting a long shadow in the dim light. She cared little for modesty—her body was her temple, her weapon—but her advisor, Rhal, had suggested otherwise. "Appearances matter, my Queen," he had said with a sly smile. He hadn’t led her astray before, so she allowed the servants to wrap the fine linen around her waist and tie it with a golden sash. As they adorned her with necklaces and bracelets, Ashura’s thoughts wandered back to her conquests.

The golden collar necklace, the final touch, felt cool against her skin. A gift from Kamilah, the Egyptian queen who had wanted her. Ashura had accepted her offer, killed the Pharaoh, and claimed both his queen and his land. A faint smile crossed her lips. She admired Kamilah for her strength and cunning—traits she rarely saw in others.

After the ritual of dressing was complete, a platter of food was brought before her. Roasted meats, fresh fruits, and breads covered the table. Ashura waved off the servants who stood nearby, waiting to feed her. The last one who had tried that lost a hand for their trouble. No, she preferred to feed herself. Her appetite was legendary, and she tore through the feast with ease, leaving a decent portion for the women still asleep in her bed. They’d earned their share.

Her mind briefly wandered to Kamilah, her queen. Though Ashura had enjoyed many, none compared to her. Kamilah’s intelligence, her beauty, and her way of commanding a room—all of it kept Ashura returning to her, even in the midst of her other lovers. The others were good, yes, but none were Kamilah. She finished her meal, stood, and made her way toward her throne room. Yet, even as she ate, the sense of restlessness crept back into her mind. The lack of challenge was suffocating.

As her thoughts wandered, Rhal entered the room. His steps are quiet but deliberate. His dark robes fluttered slightly as he walked, his presence as calm and controlled as always. He inclined his head slightly in greeting. Ashura didn't look up, but she sensed him—the way his mind always seemed to be turning, analyzing, calculating.

"My Queen," Rhal spoke with a smoothness that came from years of practice, "Your day is prepared. There are some matters to attend to with the emissaries from the east, and word has come from the north of rebellion brewing. Shall I arrange an audience?"

"Rebellion?" Ashura's eyes lit up, the word like a spark in the dry monotony of her days. Her grip on the goblet tightened, her appetite momentarily forgotten. "Tell me more."

Rhal hesitated for only a fraction of a second, barely noticeable, but Ashura caught it. It was a small thing, but Rhal was not prone to hesitation. He was a man who prided himself on precision and certainty.

Ashura studied him for a moment, noting the slight tension in his posture.

"It is a small faction," Rhal said smoothly, his face giving nothing away. "Nothing worth your immediate attention, but it would be wise to send a force to quell it before it grows into something... problematic."

Ashura reclined in her throne, swirling the wine in her goblet. She trusted Rhal's judgment; he had been by her side for years, and his advice had been instrumental in maintaining her grip on power. But there was something in his tone today that gnawed at her, something almost... off.