Morning arrived, its light creeping through the slitted windows of the grand chamber, illuminating every corner of the once-glorious room now cloaked in Murtasim’s shadow. Meerab’s eyes flickered open, her gaze locking on the ceiling as she processed the cold reality of her situation. Her kingdom lay in ruins, her husband dead, and she… she was now bound to the will of a ruthless conqueror, her captor and her nemesis. The memory of Murtasim’s intense gaze, the possessive way he had claimed her as his, resurfaced, and a fresh wave of defiance coursed through her veins.
Rising from the bed, Meerab made her way to the window, her mind replaying her plans of resistance, of revenge. Her hands curled into fists as she stared down at the city below, now swarming with Murtasim’s soldiers. Every face she saw, every soldier in his army, only fueled her anger. Her spirit was bruised, yes, but her resolve was unbroken. She was determined to make him regret the day he crossed paths with her.
A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Before she could respond, the door opened, and a servant entered, her head bowed.
“My lady,” the girl murmured, her voice trembling. “The conqueror requests your presence in the main hall.”
Meerab lifted her chin, a sneer forming on her lips. “Tell him I do not take orders.”
The servant hesitated, glancing nervously at the ground. “He said… he said that if you do not come willingly, he will have you brought there.”
Meerab’s eyes narrowed. She could feel her fury simmering, but she knew that Murtasim was not one to make empty threats. For now, she would play along, bide her time, and wait for the perfect moment to strike.
“Very well,” she said coldly. “Lead the way.”
The servant guided her through the winding corridors of the palace, her footsteps echoing against the marble floors. As they approached the hall, Meerab’s heart thudded, a mixture of anger and apprehension twisting in her chest. She clenched her fists, steeling herself, determined to show Murtasim that he had not broken her.
The doors swung open, revealing the main hall, where Murtasim stood at the head of a long table, his presence dominating the room. Dressed in dark robes that accentuated his powerful frame, he looked every bit the ruthless conqueror he was. His eyes were sharp, watching her every movement as she entered, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Ah, my queen finally graces us with her presence,” he drawled, his tone laced with mockery.
“Do not call me that,” she snapped, holding her ground, her gaze unwavering.
Murtasim raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her defiance. “And yet, that is what you are. By right of conquest, this kingdom—and everything in it—belongs to me. Including you.”
Meerab felt a surge of fury at his words, but she forced herself to remain calm, her voice dripping with disdain. “You may have taken this kingdom by force, but that does not make you a king. You are nothing more than a brute, a murderer who hides behind his army.”
A murmur of shock rippled through the room, the soldiers standing along the walls shifting uncomfortably at her bold words. But Murtasim only chuckled, his dark eyes glinting with a mixture of admiration and menace.
“Such fire,” he murmured, taking a step closer to her. “I see why they called you the Jewel of the Kingdom. A beauty with a spirit to match.” He paused, letting his gaze travel over her slowly, almost possessively. “But let me make something clear, Meerab. Defy me all you want, but it will not change your fate. You are mine.”
The words sent a chill through her, but she refused to let him see her fear. “I am no one’s possession,” she replied, her voice steady, her eyes filled with defiance. “I am a queen, and I will never bow to the likes of you.”
Murtasim’s smile faded, his expression hardening. He moved closer, his voice dropping to a low, menacing tone. “Your pride is admirable, but it will be your downfall. You forget, Meerab, that I hold the power here. I could crush you with a single command, destroy everything you hold dear. But I am offering you a choice.”
She scoffed, crossing her arms defiantly. “A choice? And what choice could a tyrant like you possibly offer me?”
Murtasim’s eyes darkened, and he reached out, taking her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his gaze. “The choice to accept your place by my side willingly. To rule this kingdom as my queen. To have a say in the fate of your people.”
Meerab wrenched her face free from his grasp, her eyes blazing with hatred. “You speak of mercy, yet you murdered my husband, destroyed my kingdom. And now you dare to ask me to rule by your side?”
Murtasim’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “Your husband was a weak man, Meerab. He lacked the strength to protect his own kingdom, to protect you. I am offering you power—true power. Something he could never give you.”
She felt her throat tighten with rage and grief, the weight of his words hitting her like a blow. “He may not have been as ruthless as you, but he was a good man. A man who respected his people, who ruled with kindness.”
“Kindness is a weakness,” Murtasim replied, his tone cold. “In this world, only the strong survive. And I am offering you a chance to be strong.”
For a moment, she was silent, her gaze locked onto his. The anger in her eyes was matched only by the bitterness in her heart. She could feel the weight of her hatred, her need for vengeance, but she knew that she could not act on it yet. Not while he held all the power.
“What would you have of me, then?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Murtasim’s expression softened slightly, though his gaze remained intense. “Your loyalty. Your submission. Stand by my side as my queen, and you will be rewarded beyond measure. Refuse… and your people will suffer the consequences.”
She clenched her fists, the choice he presented to her a cruel twist of fate. Accepting him would mean betraying everything she had ever believed in, but denying him would mean condemning her people to a life of misery under his rule.
“And if I refuse?” she challenged, her voice trembling with defiance.
Murtasim’s eyes grew cold, his voice like steel. “Then I will do whatever is necessary to bring you to heel. You may resist me, but know this—I do not lose.”
The words hung heavily between them, a silent threat, a reminder of the power he held over her. She felt her heart race, the weight of her fate pressing down on her, trapping her in a web of his making.
But Meerab was not one to be tamed easily. She would play along, bide her time, and when the moment was right, she would strike. She would not let him win so easily.
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with a defiance that refused to be extinguished. “Very well, Murtasim. I will stand by your side. But do not mistake my compliance for loyalty. I am not yours, and I never will be.”
Murtasim’s lips curved into a satisfied smile, though his eyes held a hint of wariness. “Time will tell, my queen. Time will tell.”
As he released her, she turned on her heel, her steps echoing through the hall as she walked away, her heart pounding with the resolve of her silent vow.
In her heart, she knew that her path was set. She would become his queen, yes, but she would also be his undoing. She would play the part, gain his trust, and when he least expected it, she would strike, shattering the illusion of his victory.
The game had begun, and Meerab was determined to win.
