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Chapter Text

It was the day of the execution. Amy Rose decided she would wear her hooded cloak when she went out to watch it, the one she wore when she didn’t want to be seen. It was supposed to be spring but the last remnants of winter still clung stubbornly on, the bitter winds nipping viciously at exposed hands and necks, the frozen earth killing any hopes of a plentiful harvest that year. Anyone who saw her would simply assume she was wearing her cloak because it was cold.  

She made her way to the village square, where the execution was taking place. The Eggman Empire had long since fallen but its emblems were everywhere, a perpetual reminder of the horrors that had taken place before King Shadow overthrew it. She walked past the ruins of a building bearing the familiar, faded symbol: a red moustached man with his mouth spread wide in a sinister grin. It felt like he was taunting her.

King Shadow was already there when she arrived. Standing beside him was Rouge the Bat, the commander of the Dark Eyes, King Shadow’s spy network. On his other side Amy recognised E-123 Omega, commander of the Dark Hands, the ground forces responsible for enforcing Shadow’s draconian rule. Together, the Dark Eyes and the Dark Hands made up the Dark Presence, Shadow’s army.

And of course, there was the poor prisoner being executed. Amy only knew him as Cat.

The village’s inhabitants were milling out into the square, each straining to get a look at the unlucky individual. Amy observed them, wondering what had prompted them to watch the gruesome death of another being. Morbid curiosity? A sense that justice was being done? Amy knew that some people fervently supported King Shadow’s rule, brutal as it was. Not that anyone would openly defy him.

Amy had come because she was a member of the Resistance. And so was Cat. Until now, at least.

“Loyal subjects of King Shadow,” Rouge began. Her voice was clear, confident. “Today we are gathered here to carry out the execution of a criminal whose continued existence threatens our own. While King Shadow’s laws may be harsh, they are also necessary. They protect us all against the unsavoury natures we, as animals, are all drawn to.”

She pointed an accusatory finger at the prisoner, Cat.

“The Dark Eyes have received intelligence that this individual was a member of the Resistance. Along with the other members of his criminal gang, he sought to undermine the very fabric of the society we depend upon by sowing anarchy within its walls. It is for this reason that he must die. And so, acting under the authority of Shadow the Hedgehog, King of the Dark Empire, I hereby sentence him to death.”

The wheels of the execution began to spin into motion. A pair of Dark Presence soldiers forced Cat onto his knees. Omega took his place behind the prisoner, reconfiguring his robotic forearm into a minigun. The villagers seemed to lean forwards, ears pricked with interest, restless with an almost feverish desire to watch what came next.

Cat locked gazes with Amy. His eyes were fearful, desperate. Help me.

 Then Omega shot him in the head, and it was all over.

Amy forced herself to watch his death, even though she knew it would haunt her later. It reminded her of what she was working towards when she took part in those secret, dangerous missions for the Resistance: an end to King Shadow’s vicious regime.

Her gaze moved to him now. His black fur was half-hidden by the heavy red cloak he wore, and on his head rested a golden crown: a physical symbol of his dominance. He might have been handsome were it not for the cold, grim expression carved into his face; he had watched the execution without so much as flinching. Amy shivered. How could someone become so dark?

Her gaze then shifted to Rouge – and to Amy’s surprise, Rouge was staring right back at her, the bat’s blue-green eyes fixed on Amy with an unreadable expression. Amy pulled her hood self-consciously over her head. It was time to go.

She turned away, hoping to slip unnoticed into the crowd that was now beginning to disperse – but before she could she felt a hand on her shoulder. She spun around; her hand instinctively went to the war hammer hidden under her cloak.

It was Rouge, flanked by a pair of Dark Presence soldiers.

“All hail Shadow,” Rouge said. The customary greeting of the Dark Empire.

“Long may he reign,” Amy replied without hesitation. The customary response.

Amy had never been so close to such a high-ranking Dark Presence member before, and she appraised her curiously now. She was attractive, in a sensual sort of way; her eyes were heavily made up and her lips were the sort of pink that could only be achieved through the use of lipstick. She was wearing the typical black garb of the Dark Presence but Amy could see her hourglass figure moving voluptuously under the fabric.

“Apologies for bothering you,” Rouge said smoothly. Her voice was like silk. “We’re looking for information on Carruthers Razorklaw, the individual we unfortunately had to execute just now. Who is family are, what he was doing in the days leading up to his capture. I was wondering if you knew anything.” Her blue-green eyes glittered. “You might know him by his alias, Cat.”

Amy swallowed. Her mouth had gone dry. Her heart was pounding in her chest, so loudly she was sure that everyone in the town square would hear it.

She lowered her gaze to the ground. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, “I don’t know anything.”

“No?” Rouge pressed, raising an eyebrow. “Well, thank you for your time anyway. May his Hands bring us justice.”

“May his Eyes watch over us,” Amy muttered in response.

That was close, Amy thought as Rouge turned her away. She was lucky that the Dark Eyes commander had not questioned her any further on her connection to Cat.

The dying circle of the sun was sinking beneath the horizon when she finally returned to her father’s cottage, turning the sky an unsettling shade of red. She had intended to get home earlier but she decided to stop off to buy some groceries: a few small seasonable vegetables, some salted fish. That way she had an excuse when her father inevitably asked where she’d been.

“Amy, is that you?” he called when he heard her close the front door.

“Yes, father.”

She walked through to their kitchen and dumped the groceries on the counter. Her father, sitting just a few paces away in his armchair, appraised her carefully. His fur and spines, once a glossy shade of silver, had now faded to a dull grey. He claimed it was his age, but Amy knew that it was due in part to the stress of living through the Eggman Empire and losing his wife – Amy’s mother.

“Where have you been?”

“I went out to get groceries.”

“Don’t lie to me, Amy. Mrs. Prower came through earlier and said she saw you at the execution today.”

She’d been rumbled. “Okay,” she admitted, “I did go to the execution.”

Her father sighed. He did that a lot nowadays.

“Amy, I’ve told you before. You shouldn’t go and watch such horrible things. It’s no place for a young lady and besides, it’ll give you nightmares.”

“I’m not a little girl anymore, father,” Amy protested hotly. “And I can’t just pretend that these things aren’t happening – that King Shadow isn’t putting bullets through people’s heads for daring to question his tyranny. I don’t ever want to forget how cruel he is. Not that he would ever let us forget.”

“Oh, my little Rosy,” he murmured sadly – the pet name he’d used for her growing up. “What do you know of cruelty? You were too young to properly remember the horrors of the Eggman Empire that came before.”

“It can’t be any worse than this.”

“It was,” her father said. “King Shadow may be harsh, but he upholds the law and he gives a quick death to those who fall foul of it. Doctor Eggman used to kill and maim his subjects for fun. He would roboticize his victims, turning them into mere killing machines for his army, forcing families to watch as their relatives lost their minds and were forced to carry out atrocities. There was a rabbit who lived in our village – Bunnie, her name was. She was pregnant with triplets. She dared to stand up to Eggman, so he roboticized her from the waist down only. It meant she lost her unborn children but her mind was intact, so she was fully aware of what was happening. It was a sadistic punishment, intended to break her mentally before he broke her physically. That was cruelty, Amy.”

Amy said nothing. She put the groceries away and went to stir the pot of stew that she had left simmering over the fire all day.

“And the people were no better,” her father went on. “People starved under Eggman’s rule – he destroyed the farms because his robot army needed no food – and it made them desperate. People would happily steal and even kill if it meant having something to eat. Women were forced into prostitution just so they could feed their children. And then there were some chancers who saw the chaos of the Eggman Empire as an opportunity to act out their darkest impulses without fear of retribution – rape and murder and worse.”

Amy spooned the stew into bowls. One for her, one for her father.

“King Shadow put an end to all that. He stamped out the lawlessness…”

“By shooting dead every person who puts so much as a toe out of line…”

“He ended poverty…”

“Because he forces the farmers to work until their bones break!” Amy argued. “Father, I know that things were bad under the Eggman Empire, but just because they were worse then it doesn’t mean we have to accept things as they are now. We can still hope for a better future.”

Frustration prickled at Amy. Living under Eggman’s rule had been harder, but that had ultimately made him easier to overthrow: everyone hated him, so everyone was able to unite against him. King Shadow’s rule was not so black and white. Some people actively welcomed his hard-line approach after the lawlessness that came before. Others, like her father, recognised that Shadow’s regime was barbaric but they were so crushed by the horrors of the Eggman Empire and so relieved to simply have food on the table that there was no appetite to oppose him.

Amy met her father’s gaze defiantly. His eyes softened.

“My little Rosy,” he said softly. “You may be a woman grown, but you are still so young. It’s easy to be hopeful when you’ve barely experienced the harsh realities of the world.”

He closed his eyes and leaned back into his armchair.

“Your optimism has always been something I’ve loved about you. It reminds me of your mother.”

Amy looked at him sadly. Sometimes it felt like her father had given up after her mother’s death.

He broke out into a fit of coughing. Like many others, her father suffered with asthma brought about by the smog and pollution of the Eggman Empire. Amy rushed to his side, bringing the bowl of hot stew gently to his lips, hoping it would sooth his throat.

He swallowed and gave a contended sigh. “That’s better. Thank you, Amy. You’re a good daughter.”

After dinner, she left her father to fall asleep in his armchair. Lately, he seldom had the strength to make it to his bed anymore. Amy went to her bedroom and opened the bottom drawer of her bedside table, where she kept the only thing she had left of her mother.

It was a Chaos Emerald – a red jewel, just big enough for her to hold in one hand. Legend said that there were seven of them scattered across the realm, each one containing immense power. Amy didn’t know if she fully believed the legends, but she suspected there was some truth to it – apparently Doctor Eggman had been obsessed with collecting all seven of them when he was alive. Her mother had told her to keep it safe, and to never tell anyone besides her father that she had it. She turned it over in her hands, admiring its myriad facets, like so many tiny mirrors.

When she was sure that her father was asleep, she put the Chaos Emerald back in the drawer and pulled her cloak around her shoulders. She was meeting with the Resistance tonight.

Her father didn’t know that she was part of the Resistance. She didn’t want to worry him and besides, it was best if he knew little of her night-time activities. The Dark Presence had a disturbing habit of imprisoning the relatives of Resistance members, hoping to use them as leverage or squeeze whatever intelligence they could out of them. That was why Rouge had asked her about Cat in the town square earlier, Amy suspected. If her father didn’t know she was a Resistance member, then at least he could not be forced to inform on her.

She crept as quietly as she could through the village. The Dark Presence imposed a strict curfew after midnight, so the streets were unsurprisingly empty. Once she reached the woods where their secret base was located, she began to walk a bit easier. Still, she couldn’t help but lightly touch the hammer hidden under her cloak. It was reassuring to know it was there.

The base was nestled in a dip in the earth, half-hidden by a copse of trees. It would have been difficult to spot if you were not looking for it. The door to the base was in fact a piece of Eggman Empire technology that Tails – another member of the Resistance – had reprogrammed for their purposes. It was designed only to open if the person wishing to enter uttered the right password.

Amy walked up to the door. Its sensors reacted to her presence immediately.

“What is life’s noblest pursuit?” the automated voice asked.

“Freedom,” Amy answered.

The door swung open. Amy went through. It clanged shut behind her.

Knuckles and Tails were already there. Knuckles and Tails weren’t their real names: everyone in the Resistance used false names, to prevent other Resistance members and their families from being tracked down if someone was captured. Amy knew that Tails’ name was really Miles Prower, because she’d grown up with him in their village. He was only an adolescent but already he had proven himself to be a valuable Resistance member: he had a knack for engineering and had managed to reprogram much of the technology they’d looted from the fallen Eggman Empire. He took the name Tails because he’d been born with not one tail, but two.

Knuckles had named himself after his great, spiky fists. Amy didn’t know what his real name was but he was an echidna, and she knew that echidnas often had exotic names like Pachacamac or Tikal, or double-barrelled names like Julie-Su or Lien-Da. He wasn’t from their village: he came from far away and had links to other Resistance factions all over the land. But he didn’t speak about that much. It was safer for everyone if they knew less.

For herself, Amy had taken the name Briar Rose. The other Resistance members probably assumed it was something to do with her rosy pink fur, but the truth was that Amy had borrowed the false name used by a princess from her favourite fairy tale as a child. Like in the fairy tale, Amy hoped that good would one day prevail over evil and that she would finally get her happily ever after.

Cat had been called Cat because he was a mountain lion. He would never attend a Resistance meeting again.

Knuckles pulled her into a hug.

“Briar Rose,” he said gruffly, “it’s good to see you. After the Dark Presence captured Cat, I was worried they might have gotten you too.”

Amy returned the embrace, then did the same with Tails.

“I watched his execution today,” she said grimly. “I take it you weren’t there?”

Knuckles shook his head. “I move in more Resistance circles than just this one,” he explained. “It would have been too dangerous to show my face.”

“I didn’t go either,” Tails said. “I just couldn’t face seeing them kill him. Mother went, though.”

“I know,” Amy said drily. “She ratted me out to my father.”

Tails gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” he said. “You know what she’s like.”

“Did anything noteworthy happen?” Knuckles asked.

“Not really,” Amy responded. “King Shadow was there, along with Rouge and E-123 Omega.”

Knuckles wrinkled his snout in a snarl. “How nice of his Royal Highness to drop by.”

“Actually, something strange did happen,” Amy recalled. “Rouge approached me after the execution. She wanted to know if I had any information on Cat or his family.”

Knuckles looked relieved. “That’s good,” he growled. “That means the Dark Eyes don’t have as much information as they’d like on his Resistance activities. Still, be on alert, Briar Rose,” he added gravely. “They will have tortured Cat for information, and we don’t know what he may have said to them in his final moments. He was a good soldier, but King Shadow’s dungeons will break even the noblest of warriors.”

“And Cat?” Tails pressed her, his eyes wide. “Was he… all right? Before he died?”

Amy felt a pang of sorrow as she remembered how Cat had looked in his final moments.

“I’m sorry, Tails,” she said sadly. “I wish I could say he faced his death bravely and without fear, but he didn’t. He was terrified.”

Tails hung his head while Knuckles punched the wall, his teeth gritted.

“Bastards,” Knuckles spat. “We’ll avenge you one day, Cat.”

They were expecting other Resistance members but they were rapidly losing moonlight, so they decided to press on without them. Knuckles began sharing intelligence he’d received from the other Resistance factions with them.

The overarching goal of the Resistance was to find and bring back Sonic the Hedgehog. The Resistance saw him as the true ruler of their land, but he had been missing for years – it was his very disappearance that paved the way for the rise of the Eggman Empire. So most of their work focused on lower-level activities: recruiting new members to their cause, gathering intelligence on Shadow’s army and its weaknesses, freeing prisoners and helping their families flee into hiding.

Suddenly Knuckles froze.

“Quiet,” he ordered. “I hear something.”

Amy flicked her triangular ears forward. She could hear the faintest movement coming from outside.

And then the great metal door swung open, and they were completely surrounded by Dark Presence warriors.

King Shadow was there. He stepped forward, the gravel crunching menacingly under his rocket shoes. His cold red gaze fell on her.

“Thank you, little hedgehog, for leading us to your secret base,” he said.

Then he turned to the Dark Presence warriors.

“Take them all.”

Things descended into chaos in an instant. A Dark Presence soldier lunged at her, sword in hand; Amy managed to sidestep out of the way, missing the blade by inches. Her hands closed around her war hammer and she aimed a blow at his back, feeling a satisfying crunch as steel met bone. There was no time to relish her victory – another Dark Presence warrior was on her, swinging his sword furiously. There was no chance of her evading his blows; instead she brought her hammer up in an attempt to block his attacks; his sword clanged uselessly against the hammer’s hilt as she successfully parried his strike. He took a heartbeat to react but it was all she needed; she hit him with a powerful counterstrike, sending him flying across the room.

She whipped her head around, trying to find Tails and Knuckles in the throng of black-clad warriors. Knuckles was cutting through the soldiers easily with his fists; Amy watched as he disarmed a Dark Presence warrior with one punch then knocked her unconscious with a second. Tails was no fighter like Knuckles but he had an advantage in his weapon: while the Dark Presence soldiers were wielding swords, Tails had a ray gun built from old scrap metal. He was backed in a corner, shooting haphazardly at anyone who came close.

Amy tightened her grip on her hammer, ready to help Tails – but then someone jumped in front of her. It was no ordinary Dark Presence soldier, she realised in horror. It was King Shadow himself.

He was even more terrifying up close. He was noticeably bigger than her; she could see the lean muscles rippling under his jet-black fur. His black-and-red quills pointed upwards, like some hellish crown of thorns. But the scariest part about him was his eyes. They were red and cold and utterly cruel, like frozen fire.

There was no time to reflect on that now. Amy swung her hammer at him but he deflected it easily with his steel greatsword. She tried again but he batted her away as easily as if he were swatting away a fly. He advanced on her, his gaze fixed murderously on her own. Amy instinctively backed away.

They fought. Steel rang out across the room as their weapons kissed and kissed again. They carried on like that for a while, locked in some strange, deadly dance. There were Dark Presence soldiers all around and yet it felt to Amy like there were only the two of them.

He effortlessly parried another one of her swings.

He was toying with her, she realised.

“You cannot defeat me, little hedgehog,” he said. His voice was low, dangerous. “You are only prolonging your own capture.”

Amy didn’t respond. The effort of swinging her hammer had stolen the breath from her chest.

“You’ve fought bravely,” he went on, “but I’m growing tired of this game. Throw down your weapon, and perhaps I’ll let you and your little friends live.”

His words reminded her of Cat, of the terror on his face before he was executed. With a burst of renewed vigour, she gave an almighty swing – and felt her hammer connect deliciously with his shoulder armour.

She had only caved in the metal plate, but the force of her attack was enough to make Shadow stumble. When he regained his balance, he looked at her with an expression so dark it made her shiver. Before his eyes had looked cold and cruel. Now they were burning with barely disguised rage. He no longer looked like he was toying with her, Amy realised. Now, he looked like he wanted to hurt her.

Shadow swung first this time, striking her hammer with such ferocity that it was knocked out of her hands. It landed with a thump some distance away. She had been disarmed.

He rounded on her, his sword pointed at her chest. She shrank away from its deadly point until her back hit the wall. She had fought bravely but it was only now that she felt truly afraid. She gazed up at him, powerless to stop the fear that was rapidly entering her eyes.

The tip of his sword rested on her chest. If either of them moved, it would pierce her skin.

He watched her intently, seeming to drink in her fear.

“Beg me to spare your life,” he whispered darkly. “Beg for it.”

Before she could give an answer, Shadow’s eyes darted to the side and he quickly spun around to deflect an attack from Knuckles. Knuckles’ attack glanced harmlessly off the black hedgehog’s sword, but King Shadow was distracted for a moment, and that was all she needed.

“RUN,” Knuckles barked.

Amy did not need to be told twice. She hurtled out of the cave, leaving her prized hammer behind; there was no time for her to retrieve it. As she tore through the dark woods she was vaguely aware that she had no idea what she was running towards; she could not go home, or else she would lead the Dark Presence to her father. All she knew was that she needed to get away – away from the Dark Presence, away from him.

A dark figure barrelled into her, knocking the breath from her chest. Amy skidded across the dirt. It was not King Shadow but some other Dark Presence soldier – a wolf. She tried to scramble to her feet but the black-clad warrior straddled her, pinning her down with his weight.

She fought as best she could with only her fists. She managed to land a blow that connected with his jaw; he hissed in pain, then retaliated by punching her with such force that her head smashed savagely against the forest floor. Blood welled from a cut in the back of her head and soaked her quills. For a moment she simply lay there, dazed.

Her senses returned sharply when she realised that the wolf had torn open her cloak. To her horror, he began hitching her skirts around her waist.

“What are you doing?” she cried shrilly.

The Dark Presence soldier bent over her until his lips were brushing her ear. When he spoke, his voice was almost gleeful. “Do you know what used to happen to pretty little hedgehogs like you during an ambush?”

A sinister feeling of dread washed over Amy. She immediately tried to hit him with her fists again but this time he grabbed both her arms in one hand and pinned them over her head. With his other hand he ripped at her underclothes; Amy heard the hiss of fabric tearing. Panic was mounting rapidly in her chest. She wanted to scream but that would only alert more Dark Presence soldiers to her location. What am I going to do? she thought desperately. What am I going to do? 

Suddenly the weight was lifted off her. Amy scrambled onto her side. “Knuckles?”

It was not Knuckles. It was King Shadow.

The black hedgehog was holding the wolf up by the collar of his garb. Shadow’s face was contorted with so much hate and fury that it sent a chill down Amy’s spine. He unsheathed the sword that he had been using against Amy just moments beforehand. Then he plunged it into the wolf’s chest.

Amy watched as blood sputtered from the wolf’s jaws before his body shuddered into lifelessness. Then she keeled over and vomited.

She knew there was no chance of escaping King Shadow now, not when she was incapacitated at his feet like this. She looked up at him, and a silent agreement was made between them: she would submit to him. With a gentleness that she’d thought the black hedgehog incapable of showing, Shadow removed his cloak and wrapped it round her, covering the bare skin left exposed by her ripped clothes.

“Can you walk?” he demanded.

“Yes.”

He nodded, then turned away. “Come.”

He did not restrain her; they both knew that Amy was not going anywhere. Her battle was lost.

And so Amy followed him through the woods, wondering how her captor had somehow become her saviour.

Chapter Text

They captured Amy and Tails. Knuckles, by some miraculous feat, had managed to escape; Amy would have thanked the gods but she didn’t believe in them anymore, not after all the horrors she had witnessed under the Eggman Empire and then under King Shadow’s reign. No, Knuckles had managed to escape because he was a formidable warrior – nothing more, nothing less. She hoped that he was safe, wherever he was now.

The Dark Presence marched them through the moonlit streets towards Shadow’s fortress. Amy could see the villagers peeking at them through their windows, their faces drawn and ghostly in the gloom. Normally the Dark Presence would have chastised them for daring to look outside past curfew, but this time they didn’t: they liked people to see what happened to those who broke the law, as a deterrent. As they went past Amy’s cottage, she noticed her father watching at her with a horrified expression. Amy quickly averted her gaze; she didn’t want any Dark Presence soldier to track her father down, in case it put him in danger.

She felt Tails press her hand. She thought perhaps he was trying to pass her a note, until she saw his utterly terrified expression and realised he just wanted to hold her hand for comfort. Suddenly, Tails didn’t look like a Resistance member anymore. He looked like what he was: a child.

A Dark Presence member jabbed at her back with his sword: a warning. “Eyes to the front, prisoner.”

Finally they arrived at Shadow’s fortress. It was a great, sprawling building that was as beautiful as it was terrifying, with stone that looked almost black in the dark of the night and spindly towers that grasped at the sky like talons. The Eggman Empire had been characterised by its ugly modern architecture, built for function over aesthetic; King Shadow’s reign marked a return to the old ways, where beauty and tradition was woven into buildings. His flags hung from the fortress as if in proof: Amy recognised the familiar red spiny ring on a black background. Crawling all around the fortress exterior were the Dark Presence, all clothed in black garb bearing the same red emblem as the flags.

Amy expected to be thrown straight in the dungeon, but instead she was separated from Tails and the others and taken to some other room. She was given some water and allowed to use the lavatory; then she was told to sit and wait.

“What am I waiting for?” she asked the Dark Presence soldier guarding her.

He said nothing.

After what felt like an age, the door creaked open and another Dark Presence soldier appeared.

“King Shadow is ready to see her now,” she said.

Then Amy was abruptly marched to another room. It was very large and much more comfortable – far beyond the comfort Amy was used to at her family cottage. Illuminated by the warm glow of the fire roaring away in the fireplace, the room had high ceilings with ornate patterned wallpaper and a great plush rug that covered most of the floor. The only other source of light came from the moonlight shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows, each framed by heavy velvet curtains. All around the room was expensive-looking furniture: deep chesterfield sofas, dark mahogany wood tables and paintings depicting King Shadow, his twin brother Mephiles the Dark, and some pretty golden hedgehog that Amy didn’t recognise.

Shadow was slouched in a rich leather sofa, looking decidedly more terrifying than his painted counterparts. His cold red eyes appraised Amy as she was brought before him. Something about him looked different – then Amy realised he was without his cloak, because she still had it wrapped round her shoulders.

A little ways behind him was Rouge the Bat, commander of the Dark Eyes. She was perched almost casually on the edge of a table, swinging her legs absentmindedly. She too looked over Amy as she came in, though her gaze did not seem unfriendly.

“Bow your head low, all hail Shadow!” the Dark Presence soldier snarled. Then before Amy could react he forced her to her knees in a bow.

Shadow’s red gaze shifted to the Dark Presence soldier. “Leave us,” he commanded.

The Dark Presence soldier nodded and hurried out of the room.

He rose from his sofa and circled her. Amy kept her head bowed, trying to avoid his terrifying gaze. Eventually, he stopped in front of her.

“Rise.”

Amy did as he asked; she would gain nothing and lose everything from disobeying his orders.

“I am Shadow, King of the Dark Empire and commander of the Dark Presence. You shall address me as ‘King Shadow’ or ‘my lord’. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord,” Amy mumbled.

“Good girl.”

She had hoped to avoid eye contact still, but he took her chin and forced it upwards, so she had no choice but to meet his terrifying gaze. There was anger and cruelty there, and some other dark emotion too, swimming in his depths.

“What is your name?” he suddenly demanded.

“Amy Rose, my lord.” There was no point in lying when Shadow had captured Tails, who knew her real name.

“What is the name of the fox you were with?”

“Miles Prower, my lord.”

“Who leads the Resistance?”

“I don’t know, my lord.”

She was being honest – she really didn’t know who led the Resistance. Only Knuckles had links to other Resistance factions, and he deliberately kept them in the dark so that Amy couldn’t inform on them in a situation like this. Shadow’s eyes narrowed and he studied her face closely, as if trying to figure out if she was lying.

Amy heard Rouge pipe up from behind him. “My lord, I believe she’s telling the truth,” she drawled. “This is just some low-level Resistance grunt – a naïve little girl with heady dreams of saving the world. She’s won’t know anything. It’s that red echidna we want.”

Shadow’s ears flicked in acknowledgement of Rouge’s words, but he didn’t take his eyes off Amy.

“You put up quite the fight when I found you, little rose,” he remarked softly, his breath tickling her cheeks. “You would make a fine Dark Arms warrior.”

Amy swallowed. She was afraid of him – she would be a fool if she wasn’t – yet some small flicker of courage in her chest made her defy him.

“I would never fight for the Dark Arms,” she whispered.

His gaze darkened and fell to her body, still wrapped in his cloak. “Shame. You look so good wearing my colours.”

The black hedgehog turned away from her.

“The girl is of no further use to me. Take her away.”

And before Amy could react the Dark Presence soldiers were back in the room again and she was being dragged away – perhaps to her death. The last thing she saw was Rouge’s inquisitive gaze on her before the doors slammed shut.

His soldiers took the girl away. Shadow slumped back down in his leather sofa, pinching his brow between his thumb and forefinger.

It had been a long night. The Dark Eyes had received intelligence of a small group of Resistance members operating nearby, and the pink hedgehog had led them right to it. But the operation had only been partially successful. They had captured two of the rebels – the pink hedgehog and her fox friend – but the red echidna had gotten away, and the other Resistance members they expected to be there were nowhere to be seen.

It was frustrating because it was the red echidna they particularly wanted: their intelligence suggested he was highly ranked, with links to other factions all across the country. He was the key to identifying and destroying the Resistance. And Shadow’s incompetent soldiers had allowed him to slip through their grasp.

Still, the operation hadn’t been a total loss: they had at least managed to interrogate the fox and hedgehog. Shadow interrogated all his prisoners before deciding what to do with them. Sometimes they were brave and refused to tell him anything – so Shadow executed them, because they were of no use to him. Sometimes they cowards and told Shadow everything he wanted to know, foolishly believing their honesty would save them – so Shadow executed them too, because they were of no use to Shadow once they had spilled all their secrets and besides, he had no respect for cowards.

But occasionally he would come across a prisoner who was a cut above the usual brutes his forces captured. When that happened, Shadow would make them an offer: a place in the Dark Presence in exchange for their life.

The fox boy seemed promising. They had learnt he was a highly intelligent and skilled engineer: he helped the Resistance by tinkering with old machinery left lying around from the Eggman Empire, turning it from scrap metal into useful gear. Someone like that would be very useful in the Dark Presence – building weapons for the Dark Hands, perhaps, or operating surveillance for the Dark Eyes. And he was young – still malleable enough to be converted to their side.

The hedgehog girl was trickier. She had proven herself to be a decent fighter, and Shadow couldn’t help but respect her bravery. But she had outright refused to join the Dark Presence, and besides…

Her attractiveness was… distracting.

Rouge fluttered over to Shadow’s side.

“I heard you had a little trouble on the road with one of your soldiers,” she remarked.

Shadow scowled. “How do you know that?”

“I am the commander of the Dark Eyes, Shadow. It’s my job to know things.”

Shadow narrowed his eyes and turned away. “A Dark Presence soldier tried to rape the prisoner. I killed him.”

“And you did that because…?”

“Because he sought to defile…” Shadow wrinkled his nose in a snarl, “my property.”

Rouge gave a small smirk. “You know,” she observed, “it isn’t exactly good for morale when the Dark Presence see their commander killing one of their own.”

“I could care less about what is good for morale,” Shadow spat. “They know the law. I will not have my soldiers thinking they can rape women with impunity just because they wear my colours.”

Rouge shrugged. “You’re the king,” she said.

Shadow rose to his feet, feeling frustrated by her comments. Rouge was one of Shadow’s oldest and most loyal allies; like Omega, she had been instrumental in helping him bring down the Eggman Empire. He trusted and valued her judgement immensely. But it had been a long night and Shadow was weary. He did not have the patience to be debating the fate of rapists.

He strode over to the liquor cabinet he kept in the room and retrieved a crystal goblet before pouring himself a glass of wine. After a moment’s hesitation he took a second goblet and poured Rouge a glass of wine, too. Even though he was tired, he knew he would need something to help him relax if he had any hope of getting to sleep tonight.

Rouge changed the subject. “What did you think of the prisoners we rounded up tonight?”

Shadow kept his gaze on the wine. “The fox boy may be useful to us and should be offered a place in the Dark Presence,” he growled matter-of-factly. “The girl is skilled with her war hammer but is too naïve for her own good. I expect she will choose death over service to me.”

Rouge paused. When she spoke, there was a curious tone to her voice.

“The girl is very… pretty, isn’t she?” she said.

Shadow whipped his head round to glance at Rouge. Now that was an unusual comment.

Rouge cocked an eyebrow. “Come on, Shadow,” she said playfully. “I saw the way you looked at her.”

Shadow broke away from her gaze and tried to prevent the red flush creeping up his muzzle. “I’m a hedgehog, not a robot,” he spat. “Of course I thought she was pretty. What of it?”

He handed Rouge the glass of wine; she accepted it gracefully.

“It’s just… I had an idea,” Rouge began enticingly. “About how we can make use of this hedgehog. Besides recruiting or executing her.”

Shadow went to stand in front of the fire. He could not imagine what far-fetched plan Rouge possibly had in mind for the prisoner, but he knew she was highly intelligent: she wouldn’t suggest something unless it was worth listening to.

“Go on.”

She sighed. “Shadow,” she said, “do you know why the Resistance seeks to overthrow you?”

“Because they are weak,” he growled.

Rouge acted as if she had not heard his comment. “According to my intelligence, they fight because they are opposed to the brutality of your regime. In other words,” she explained, “they think you are a tyrant. That means the best way to crush the Resistance once and for all is to change their perception of you – to make them believe that you aren’t a tyrant.”

He flattened his ears. “The best way to crush the Resistance is through brute force and fear.”

Rouge shook her head. “No, Shadow. When you execute a Resistance member, do you know what you do? You turn them into a martyr. You might stamp out some of the rebellion in the short-term, but they’ll only return stronger and filled with revenge for their dead comrades, because now you have proven their point – you really are a tyrant. Killing someone’s friends and family makes them do crazy things… as you are well aware,” she added, shooting him a knowing look.

Shadow pulled his lips back in the beginning of a snarl. “What is your solution, then?”

“We need to make people believe that you are willing to ease your brutal regime and listen to the people,” Rouge said thoughtfully. “You have to appear a little softer – while still commanding respect, of course.”

“What would you have me do?” Shadow hissed. “Dance in the street with flowers in my quills?”

Rouge met his gaze evenly. “No,” she said flatly. “I would have you marry the hedgehog girl.”

A stab of shock went through Shadow; he tried to hide it by turning his back to Rouge.

“The hedgehog girl – why?” he demanded. “I should marry someone with political power. That princess from the Sol Empire, perhaps. Not some common peasant.”

“Lots of reasons,” Rouge remarked casually, leaning back into the sofa and kicking her feet up. “First, she’s a member of the Resistance. Marry her, and the rebellion might be quelled in the belief that the Resistance now has some political power – that they have someone on the throne representing their interests and tempering yours.”

Shadow narrowed his eyes; he had to admit that he could see the logic in Rouge’s suggestion. “Very well. What else?”

“Second,” Rouge said, “she’s a hedgehog. And you’re a hedgehog.”

“Well spotted,” Shadow remarked drily. “What of it?”

Rouge raised an eyebrow. “It means,” she said, “that she can give you an heir.”

Rouge was right. Interspecies relationships were not uncommon, but it was rare for such couples to bear children. It was sometimes possible between similar species – a wolf and a dog, for example, or a tiger and a lion – but the offspring could suffer from defects: some were born infertile, while others grew to an abnormally large size.

As a hedgehog, Shadow’s safest bet for an heir would be to mate with another hedgehog. But the hedgehog population had thinned considerably after the horrors of the Eggman Empire. The only female of childbearing age that Shadow knew of was a hedgehog in his court named Sonia, and she was already married.

Shadow couldn’t help but feel a twinge of desire at Rouge’s words. If the girl was to give him a child, that would mean they needed to…

“A child is the key to defeating the Resistance,” Rouge went on, not noticing Shadow’s reaction. “The masses might think you a tyrant, but we could raise the child to be sweet, measured – the people’s darling. And if the child is beloved by the public, then the Resistance might be calmed knowing that the child will become king after you. After all, why bother with the dangerous mission of overthrowing you and putting someone else on the throne when they can just wait for the child to come of age?”

Shadow had never really thought about his succession; he was still young, and he had his twin brother Mephiles should anything happen to him. But it made sense to secure an heir as soon as he could. His rule was unstable; he had not been king long and already there was talk from the rebels of replacing him with Sonic or someone else. An heir would help Shadow entrench his dynasty.

“All right,” Shadow relented. “Anything else?”

“Finally…” Rouge’s eyes glittered. “The girl is pretty. And she seems sweet, from what I can tell.”

“How is that relevant?”

Rouge shrugged. “Perhaps it’s not essential,” she admitted, “but it will make the people warm to her more – and make things easier for you.”

“Easier for me?”

“Sure,” Rouge said. “Look – you can drag her kicking and screaming down the aisle, for all I care. You can lock her up in the dungeons and only wheel her out for public appearances, if it pleases you. But the truth is that your marriage will be much smoother if there is at least some mutual respect and attraction there.”

Shadow chewed on Rouge’s suggestion.

“Fine,” he growled. “Suppose I did want to marry this girl. What would my next move be?”

“You can start by inviting her to dinner,” Rouge said. “She’s a silly little village girl who will be a sucker for a handsome face and some pretty clothes. She won’t be difficult to charm.”

He nodded. “I appreciate your counsel,” he said. “Now leave me, Rouge. It has been a long night and I have much to think about.”

Rouge dipped her head. “I’ll take my leave, then. But one more thing before I go, Shadow,” she added. “Make sure you treat the girl nicely. Don’t break the door down when it would do just as well to knock.”

Then she vanished, leaving Shadow alone in the room.

The black hedgehog drained his glass of wine and sunk into the sofa, savouring the warmth of the dying embers in the hearth. He was exhausted: he had been up all day for the execution and then up all night for the Resistance ambush. His shoulders ached from the effort of swinging his sword and his mind was racing, filled with questions of where that red echidna had escaped to and doubts about whether he should marry that pink hedgehog as well as the more trivial banes and anxieties of running a kingdom.

And nights were always hard. Ever since Maria…

He pushed the thought from his head. He wasn’t going to think about that right now.

His ears twitched at a soft creaking sound. Someone was here in the room with him.

“So,” a familiar voice said, “it appears my beloved brother is taking a wife.”

Shadow shifted his gaze to the source of the voice. What stared back at him was a hedgehog so similar in appearance to Shadow that it could have been his reflection.

It was his twin brother, Mephiles. Like Shadow, he had black fur save for the white tuft on his chest and spines that pointed upwards like a crown. There were only two differences between the brothers. The first was that, instead of having red stripes on his arms, legs and quills, Mephiles had stripes were blue-grey in colour. The second was that, while Shadow had fiery red eyes, Mephiles’ eyes were a strikingly bright shade of green – like chips of a Chaos Emerald.

Shadow turned away, looking disinterested. “You were eavesdropping on my conversation with Rouge.”

Mephiles did not deny the accusation. He watched Shadow with glittering green eyes.

“You know, brother,” he said coaxingly, “you are the king. That girl is merely a prisoner. Her life is of no consequence to you. If you want her, all you need is to go ahead and take her. You don’t need to bother with marriage just to satisfy your desires.”

Shadow’s quills prickled in frustration: something that often happened when his brother was around. “That’s not why I’m marrying her.”

Mephiles narrowed his eyes. “Come now, Shadow,” he said. “You may pretend to be some disciplined king to Rouge and the masses, but I am your brother. I know what you are… what you want.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do,” he hissed. “You think I haven’t seen the whores slipping into your quarters in the dark of the night, or heard your cries as you stroke yourself to climax.”

He took a step closer.

“When you saw that Dark Presence soldier this evening,” he jeered, “trying to force himself on Rose… How hard was it to hold back, to keep from taking the girl yourself? Is that why you killed him, brother? Because you wanted her all for yourself and you were prepared to kill to get what you wanted?”

Shadow rose sharply to his feet. “Enough,” he snarled. “I am going to bed.”

He marched out of the room, but Mephiles’ gaze followed.

“Deny it all you want, brother,” he called after Shadow. “I know the truth. You are just as dark as the murderers and rapists you punish. The only difference is that they are at least open about their desires.”

Shadow tried his hardest to ignore his brother’s words.

He was nothing like the murderers and rapists he sought to destroy when he became king. It was true he sometimes lost his temper, and he enjoyed the taste of fear a little too much. It was true he wanted the Rose girl; even now, he could feel his desire for her stirring in his loins.

But he was principled, disciplined. He knew how to control himself.

He wasn’t a monster.

Was he?

Chapter Text

Shadow was grievously weary by the time he went to bed that night, but even then he found that sleep would not come to him. Instead he lay awake for most of the night, pondering over Rouge’s proposal. It was not so much a question of whether he would marry the girl; Rouge had presented a convincing argument and the benefits of marrying her were undeniable. Rather, it was a question of whether he was marrying her for the right reasons. He could still hear his brother’s voice, hissing like a serpent in his ear: You may pretend to be some disciplined king to Rouge and the masses, but I am your brother. I know what you are… what you want.

He drew a hand over his face, exasperated. Mephiles could be a thorn in his side at times, but he had promised Maria he’d look after their brother. And besides, Shadow thought darkly, Mephiles was working on something that would cement the Dark Empire’s rule forever.

 The other question was how he ought to do it. If it were up to him he would have forced the girl into marriage – that was his usual course of action, to overpower and crush and dominate – but Rouge had told him to be nice to the girl. Don’t break the door down when it would do just as well to knock. He would have to try a different approach.

The next day he went down to the dungeons, torch in hand; his dungeons were underground, so there was little natural light. He found Amy sitting against the wall of her cell, hugging her knees, his cloak wrapped around her like a blanket. He felt a strange pang of longing as he caught sight of her – even now, muddied and bloodied and rotting in his dungeon, the girl was undeniably attractive. She raised her head as he approached, and there was a glimmer of fear in her jade-green eyes. Good – that meant his dungeons hadn’t completely broken her yet.

Shadow unlocked the cell door and swung it open.

“Out,” he spat.

She blinked at him in confusion. “My lord?”

Shadow looked away, his ears flat against his head. “I won’t ask again, little rose.”

Amy scrambled to her feet and exited the prison cell. He felt a twinge of approval at her quick obedience; that was a good trait to have in a wife, he thought. Still, he kept his face impassive as he turned away.

“Come,” he ordered.

Amy followed him as he led her out of the dungeons and through the long corridors of his fortress.

“Where are we going?” she asked. Then, when Shadow didn’t respond: “Are you taking me to be executed?”

Shadow finally stopped when he reached his intended destination: a bedchamber. If he were going to take the girl as his wife, he may as well allow her something more comfortable than a dank dungeon cell to sleep in.

“You are to sleep here from now on,” he told her. “I trust you will find it more comfortable than your… previous sleeping arrangements. My servants will visit you shortly to take your measurements so we can have some clothes made for you. In the meantime…” he added, meeting her gaze steadily, “I wanted to invite to you have dinner with me tomorrow evening.”

Amy stared at him, bewildered. If she had looked surprised at her new sleeping quarters, she was positively astonished at his dinner invitation. “I – my lord?”

Shadow narrowed his eyes. “Did I not make myself sufficiently clear to you, little rose?”

“Yes – it’s just…” Amy cocked her head to the side. “Is this an invitation, or an order?”

Shadow rounded on her, closing his fist around her wrist and pulling her up against his chest. “Are you being insolent?”

“No,” Amy said hurriedly. “I just – it’s only – I thought you treated your prisoners far worse than this.”

Shadow stalked forward until he had backed Amy up against the wall. “Then perhaps I’m not the monster you think I am.”

“So I can choose?”

Shadow flicked his ears in irritation. He was so used to simply giving orders and having others do as he commanded; giving someone a choice, even when he desperately desired a particular outcome, felt alien and frustrating to him.

“Yes,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “it’s an invitation.”

The girl hesitated. He could almost see the cogs turning in her mind.

“I will go to dinner with you,” she said slowly, “if you agree to release Tai – if you agree to release Miles Prower.”

Shadow could not suppress the feeling of respect that rippled through him. The girl might be naïve, but she was not stupid.

Still, her shrewdness would not save her friends. Shadow exercised absolute control. He did not bargain.

“I hardly think you’re in any position to make demands,” he growled.

“Then I won’t go to dinner with you.”

“Fine,” Shadow snarled, releasing his grip on her. “I will not punish you for refusing me. But know that if you won’t come to dinner with me, you will starve.”

Then he stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Being nice was harder than he thought.

After his servants had taken Amy’s measurements, Shadow went into town to have some clothes made for her at the dressmaker. Normally Shadow would have his servants do this kind of thing, but Rouge said it was important that Shadow himself was seen ordering women’s clothes; doing so would create chatter and interest amongst the public, because why would the king be placing an order for women’s clothes personally unless it was for a girl he was courting? Little details like the size and style of the clothes would hint to her species, something his people would pore over as they tried to identify King Shadow’s mystery bride.

Sparking rumours and speculation was important, Rouge said, because it would make the public excited for the reveal of his wife and firmly establish Amy as a celebrity whose relationship the people would feel invested in. Rouge and her Dark Eyes usually kept a tight control over news, but this time Rouge would let the gossip smoulder – and even stoke the fire here and there.

Shadow strode through the town towards the dressmaker. The townspeople shrunk away from him as he passed, bowing their heads and averting their gaze. “All hail Shadow,” one muttered anxiously. Good, Shadow thought with some satisfaction. A fearful subject was an obedient subject.

The shop was bustling and lively when Shadow entered. Then they caught sight of him, and a hush fell upon the room.

A greying cat hurried to the counter and dipped her head in a bow. “All hail Shadow,” she said quickly. “How may I serve you, my lord?”

Shadow handed her a roll of parchment containing Amy’s measurements and a list of clothes she needed. The cat unravelled it and peered at it curiously.

“You will make me everything in this document by sundown tomorrow,” he commanded. “Spare no expense.”

The cat’s gaze shot back up to Shadow. Her eyes were wide with shock. “But – my lord,” she stammered, “this list is extensive – there are other orders placed before yours I need to fulfil…”

Shadow narrowed his eyes. “Are you disobeying an order from your king?” His voice was low, dangerous.

“No, my lord,” she said quickly. “I’ll have this done tomorrow for you. Though – if I may – there are many precious materials in here – silk, velvet – I must warn you it will be very expensive…”

Shadow tossed a coin purse onto the counter. “I trust this will be sufficient,” he hissed.

The cat opened the purse to peer at the contents, then swallowed. “Yes, my lord – you are most generous…”

Shadow turned to leave, but then he heard the cat’s voice again.

“My lord,” she added timidly, “will you be needing any – er – undergarments for the lady? There are none in the document, so I wanted to confirm…”

Undergarments. Shadow’s thoughts immediately went to Amy, clothed in nothing but delicate lace underwear; involuntarily, he felt himself stiffen. He quickly pushed the picture from his mind.

“Yes,” he said. “Those too. My soldiers will be here to pick up the goods at sundown tomorrow.”

Then Shadow left the shop, eager to get back to the castle before his sinful thoughts threatened to overwhelm him in public.

Perhaps Mephiles was right, he thought. Perhaps he was dark.

­­­For reasons unbeknownst to Amy, she had been moved from the dungeons to a proper bedchamber.

It was a fine bedchamber, too. At the centre of the room was a grand four poster bed, complete with rich satin sheets and pillows. There was other, equally ornate furniture, too: a chaise longue, a dressing table, a mirror. Most of the floor was covered by a large rug, so plush that Amy’s feet sunk into it like snow. It was worlds away from the simple cottage she lived in with her father, and she was unaccustomed to such finery.

The first thing she did after Shadow left was try to escape. She tried the handle of the door she had come through, but it was locked. There was a second door in the room but it only led to a grand ensuite bathroom. There was a great floor-to-ceiling window in the room; she briefly considered smashing it to free herself, but she was several storeys high with no way to safely get down to the ground. While she was no longer locked in the dungeon, her circumstances had not changed: she was trapped here.

The next thing she did was question why King Shadow had brought her here, instead of leaving her in the dungeon with the other prisoners. Perhaps it was some sort of psychological game: maybe Shadow thought that if he were nice to her, she would be willing to spill the secrets of the Resistance. But she had never heard of him doing anything like this to his other prisoners, so why her? Or perhaps he had brought her to a bedchamber because he was planning to have his way with her. But if that were the case, why had he saved her from being raped from that Dark Presence soldier in the woods? None of her explanations made any sense.

Even more puzzling was the fact that he had invited her to dinner with him. She had no explanation for that.

He’d told her that if she did not agree to dinner with him, she would starve. This was not so bad the first day – she was so anxious, both for herself and for Tails and Knuckles and her family, that she had little appetite anyway.

The second day was harder. She had not eaten since that meagre stew with her father before she was captured, two whole days ago. Hunger gnawed at her belly and she felt weak and lethargic. She tried to manage it by sleeping the day away; and so she drifted in and out of consciousness, the line between dreams and reality becoming increasingly blurred. She would dream she was back in the woods after the ambush, that Dark Presence soldier on top of her, eyes glinting with malice; then she’d wake with a start, back in her bedchamber, alone. Other times she would remember Shadow, and the cruelty in his ruby-red eyes, and her heart would sink when she realised it was not a dream but reality.

She was woken suddenly by the sound of the door rattling. She bolted up, pulling the bedsheets self-consciously around herself; a split-second later, the door swung open and King Shadow strode into the room.

“My lord,” Amy sputtered, startled, “I did not know you were coming – I would have gotten up – you should have knocked…”

Shadow narrowed his eyes. He prowled to her side; Amy shrunk away, afraid of what he might do to her. He grasped a fistful of her quills and brought her head up, forcing her to look at the black-and-red flag draped on the wall of the room.

“Whose flag is that?” he breathed in her ear.

Amy swallowed. “Yours.”

“Whose fortress is this?”

“Yours.”

“That’s right,” he murmured. “That means I will go where I please. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord,” she mumbled.

To her relief, Shadow released her quills. He gazed down at her.

“Are you ready to come to dinner with me now?” he asked.

Amy lowered her gaze and fiddled with the corner of her bedsheet. “I don’t know,” she mumbled weakly. “You might poison me.”

The corner of Shadow’s lip twisted in a cruel smirk. “If I wanted you dead, little rose, I would have killed you by now.”

Amy hesitated. She was very hungry.

But she couldn’t give in now. She needed to try and bargain with him, for Tails’ sake.

“My answer is no,” she said. “Not unless you free Miles Prower.”

Shadow’s smirk fell into a grimace. “How disappointing,” he said. “And you were doing so well.”

He left the room – and Amy found herself desperately hoping that he would come back and tell her he’d changed his mind, that he was commanding her to come to dinner with him after all. Anything that meant Amy could eat without feeling like she was betraying the Resistance – betraying her friends.

By the third day Amy was so ravenous she could hardly think straight.

She was almost pleased to see Shadow when he came into her room. It was not just the hope of relief from her hunger that excited her: she had not seen anyone for nearly three whole days, and she was losing her mind with nothing to do except stare at the four walls of her bedchamber. Shadow’s intrusion was a welcome interruption to an otherwise monotonous existence.

This time, she noticed he knocked on the door – though it was an announcement, not a request.

His eyes swept over her appraisingly. “Are you ready to behave now?”

Amy bit her lip. Perhaps it would be better if she went to dinner with him after all, a small voice wheedled in the back of her mind. The Resistance would want her to keep her strength up; it would serve no-one if she simply withered away. And it might be a good opportunity to try and glean some valuable information.

Amy bowed her head, feeling defeated. “Yes, my lord.”

She saw a flash of approval in Shadow’s eyes. “Good girl,” he murmured. “I’ll have my guards escort you to the dining room this evening.”

“This evening?” she repeated in alarm. “But – please, my lord – that’s hours away – I’m so hungry…”

“Then perhaps you should have obeyed me when I asked you the first time,” Shadow said coldly.

He paused at the door, his hand resting on the handle.

“I will send the Dark Presence to escort you to dinner,” he told her over his shoulder. “Until then.”

Then he left the room, and Amy was alone once again.

She lay in bed, watching the sun slowly rise and then fall through the window. She would have slept to pass the time, but she was so hungry it kept her awake. The sky was just beginning to darken when there was a knock at the door. Amy sat up hopefully – was it a Dark Presence soldier coming at last to take her to dinner? – but to her surprise, it was none other than Rouge.

“Rouge?” she said in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello, sweetheart,” Rouge said smoothly. “I’ve brought you a little something.”

Rouge handed her a small silver box. Amy gently removed the lid; inside was a handful of sugared almonds. Amy had eaten sugared almonds before: they were traditionally given as a wedding favour, where the bitter almonds and the sweet sugary coating was meant to symbolise the bitterness and sweetness of love. She didn’t particularly care for them, but to someone who had not eaten in three days, they looked delicious.

“A gift from Shadow,” Rouge declared, “because he is a generous king.”

Amy gulped them down gratefully. “Thank you.”

Rouge watched Amy eat a little before taking the silver box away. “Not too many,” she chided, “you’ll ruin your appetite. Besides, we need to get you ready.”

Amy cocked her head to the side. “Get me ready?”

Rouge raised an eyebrow. “My darling,” she said, “you can’t seriously expect to dine with the king looking like that.”

Amy followed her gaze. It was only then that she realised she was still wearing the torn, dirtied dress she’d been captured in. The bloody wound at the back of her head had dried to an unappealing crust. She had not bathed in three days – she had an ensuite in her bedchamber, but she’d had no energy to do anything except lie in bed. She probably smelt awful.

“I’ll have my girls come in and run you a hot bath,” Rouge said. “Let’s get these filthy clothes off. Come on – chop-chop.”

Feeling bashful but powerless to say no, Amy stripped down to her undergarments. Rouge simply looked at her expectantly.

“Oh,” Amy stammered, “did you want me to take everything off?”

“Do you usually take a bath in your undergarments?” Rouge remarked drily. Then her gaze softened. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Amy. I expect I’ve seen more naked girls than you’ve had hot dinners.”

Reluctantly, Amy peeled off her undergarments. As promised, Rouge did not bat an eye.

The Dark Eyes commander led her through to the ensuite bathroom. It was just as grand as the bedchamber, with marble tiling and a freestanding bathtub that had little golden taps. A group of girls bearing brooches in the shape of Shadow’s emblem had already run her bath: petals floated on the surface of the water, and a sweet floral scent rose with the steam to kiss Amy’s nostrils. It made Amy think of an animal being marinated before slaughter.

The girls lowered her slowly into the bath. It felt good. She closed her eyes, letting the hot water soothe her aching body for a moment. The cut on the back of her head stung a little, but she ignored it. When she lifted her eyelids, the water had turned a murky red-brown from dirt and blood.

The girls scrubbed at her fur with soap and oils while Rouge washed her quills. She was feeling much more relaxed now, yet there was a niggling feeling in the back of her mind that something was not right. Why would Rouge, the commander of Shadow’s spy network, be helping her get ready for dinner? Was she trying to implicitly get more information from Amy on the Resistance?

Amy decided to ask outright. She had nothing to lose.

“Rouge,” she began carefully, “why are you doing this? Bathing me, I mean.”

Rouge let out a sensual chuckle. “This is my profession, dear.”

“Bathing prisoners is part of your job as commander of the Dark Eyes?”

“No,” Rouge laughed, “it was part of my job before I became commander of the Dark Eyes.”

“What did you do before?”

There was a pause. Rouge’s face was unreadable.

“In the beginning,” Rouge said finally, “I was a jeweller. But my business was devastated by the Eggman Empire. Unsurprisingly, people don’t want to buy expensive jewellery when they can barely afford to put food on the table.”

She began combing a sweet scented liquid through Amy’s quills.

“I was a thief for a little while, but soon I realised there was better money to be made working in a brothel,” she went on. “They provided us with food and board and gave us a cut of the earnings we made. They let us keep any tips from clients, which were sometimes very generous. I started as a common whore, but I’m a resourceful and industrious person. I quickly worked my way up, managing whole groups of girls before eventually becoming head of the brothel.”

Amy blinked, surprised that such a high-ranking member of the Dark Empire had come from such humble beginnings. She had not expected this from Rouge.

“But soon, I realised the real opportunity lay not in the trade of my body,” Rouge said enigmatically, “but in the trade of secrets. You see, the men using the brothel would chatter away to me and my girls, spilling valuable secrets in the process, not thinking that some lowly whore would ever make use of them. I learnt everything about everyone, and I was able to use it to my advantage.” Her eyes glittered mischievously. “So many men refused to help me, until I asked them how their wives would feel about them visiting my brothel all the time.”

“You blackmailed them?” Amy gasped.

“Yes,” Rouge said, “and I passed secret messages between people. The brothel was the perfect cover – nobody would question why there were so many people coming in and out.”

She rinsed the scented liquid from Amy’s quills.

“Eventually, I heard of a powerful black hedgehog with an ironclad resolve and a reason to want the Eggman Empire overthrown. Through my network of spies and messengers, I was able to make contact with him, and rally an army around him without Doctor Eggman ever suspecting a thing. Meanwhile, E-123 Omega – that’s the commander of the Dark Hands, King Shadow’s ground forces – was able to mobilise Eggman’s more sentient robots, who were angry at being abused and coerced by Eggman. Thus began the fall of the Eggman Empire, and the rise of the Dark Empire.”

“So that was how you became commander of the Dark Eyes?”

Rouge nodded. “Thankfully, King Shadow put a stop to the worst of the poverty that had flourished under the Eggman Empire, so there was no need for women to resort to prostitution just to feed themselves. It nearly put me out of business… but fortunately, Shadow had a different role in mind for me. And so I became commander of the Dark Eyes. Some of my girls followed me, and came to work for the Dark Eyes as well. Others came to work for King Shadow in other positions – cooks, maids, that sort of thing. Others decided they wanted to wanted to stay working in the brothel.”

“Shadow didn’t close the brothels down?”

She shook her head. “The brothels still exist, but they’re much better paid now, with better working conditions. Women work there because they want to, not as a last resort because they are starving. I think Shadow would have liked to close them all down – he has a very strong sense of righteousness – but they serve too important a purpose. See, brothels help prevent the Dark Presence from abusing women by providing them with a sexual outlet – something that was a big problem before Shadow stamped it out. Of course,” Rouge added darkly, “it doesn’t always work.”

Amy thought back to how Shadow had killed the Dark Presence soldier who had try to force himself on her. She remembered the hate and fury in his eyes as he’d plunged his sword into the soldier’s chest and shuddered.

“Has Shadow ever used the brothels?” Amy wondered aloud.

Rouge laughed again. “Shadow is the most disciplined person I know,” she said. “He had to be, in order to stamp out all the lawlessness and corruption from the Eggman Empire. But he is still a man, and all men have weaknesses of the flesh – something that I learnt from my work. As much as he would hate to admit it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think Shadow feels a lot of shame when he loses control – sexually or otherwise.” The corner of her mouth twitched in the beginning of a smile. “One time Shadow resolved to stop entirely – no whores, no pleasuring himself, even. But it only served to make him more irritable. He eventually abandoned that approach when he was so on edge that he beheaded a Dark Presence messenger who brought us some bad news. I told him that if he was going to let his discipline slip, it was better to lose control in private than lose control in public.”

Amy wanted to ask more questions, but Rouge cleared her throat and stood up.

“Well, that was a very long way of telling you that I’m used to seeing naked girls and making them look pretty before they spend time with a man,” she concluded. “Come, let’s get you dressed.”

Rouge’s girls helped Amy of the tub and dried her with a towel before leading her back to the bedchamber. A servant must have brought some clothes in while Amy was being bathed, because suddenly she had a wardrobe full of finery – velvet, silk, cashmere. She frowned, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden. It didn’t feel right that her friends were rotting away in King Shadow’s dungeons while she was to be paraded around in finery like some prized pony.

Rouge’s girls got to work on styling Amy’s quills and dabbing makeup on her face. Meanwhile Rouge rifled through the wardrobe before pulling out a beautiful green dress.

“Green is King Shadow’s favourite colour,” she told Amy. “We’ll dress you in this.”

Once the girls had finished with Amy’s hair and makeup, she shimmied awkwardly into the dress. Rouge took a step back and looked her up and down.

“My,” she breathed approvingly, “don’t you look delightful?”

Amy glanced at herself in the mirror, and drew a sharp intake of breath. She had to admit that Rouge and her girls had done a good job: she did look very pretty. She was almost unrecognisable from the plain village girl she had been previously.

Amy saw Rouge come up behind her in the mirror.

“One more thing…” she added.

Rouge’s fingers brushed her collarbone as she fastened something around Amy’s neck. Amy looked in the mirror and saw that she was now wearing a necklace. Dangling from the necklace was a spiny ring she recognised as Shadow’s emblem. She touched it gently. It felt like a collar.

Rouge watched her intently. “Shadow will enjoy seeing you in that,” she remarked drily. “He’ll like reminding you of who you belong to.”

Amy felt a surge of anger. “I don’t belong to anyone,” she protested.

“Shadow is king,” Rouge said flatly. “Everyone and everything belongs to him.”

The bedchamber door opened. It was a Dark Presence soldier.

“King Shadow has instructed me to escort the prisoner to dinner,” he declared.

Amy had been counting down the minutes until she could finally eat all day. Yet now that the moment was here, she could feel anxiety rising rapidly in her chest. She took a deep breath, hoping to still her trembling hands. She wondered if she were making the right decision.

She began to move towards the guard, but before she could she felt Rouge’s hand on her shoulder. To her surprise, the bat no longer had a playful, careless expression on her face. Now she looked gravely serious.

“Good luck, Amy,” Rouge said. “And… a word of advice. Give him what he wants. Things will be much easier for you if you simply do as he says.”

“T-Thank you,” Amy replied, startled.

And before she could speak to Rouge any further the Dark Presence was marching her out of the room, towards dinner with the devil himself.

Chapter Text

Shadow waited for Amy in the dining room. Across the long dining table lay an impressive banquet: roasted chicken, honey-glazed ham, baked fish; roasted potatoes, mashed potatoes, dauphinois potatoes; sauteed broccoli, honey-roasted carrots, caramelised onions. He had arranged such an elaborate meal partly because he knew she would be very hungry after going without food for three days; partly because he wanted to impress her, to show her the sort of life she could expect if she chose to marry him; and partly because he had no idea what kind of food she actually liked. He was hoping to use this dinner to find out more about Amy, including her likes and dislikes – after all, she was to be his wife if things went according to plan.

The elaborate meal was not the only way he hoped to impress her: he had picked up the clothes he’d bought for her earlier that day and had instructed his servants to drop them off to her bedchamber. They were expensive and of high quality – much finer than the rags he had captured her in. His own clothes were yet another way Shadow had tried to impress: he was wearing a black royal military jacket and a heavy red cape, held together with a silver pin in the shape of his emblem. Tufts of his white chest fur poked out of the jacket.

Shadow drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. He began to worry that she was not coming at all – perhaps the sugared almonds he’d given her had blunted her appetite – when finally she arrived, escorted by a Dark Presence soldier.

The sight of her made his breath catch in his chest. She was already attractive before but now, bathed clean and dressed in his finery, she looked captivating. His eyes caught the collar around her neck, the shape of her petite figure moving enticingly under her dress; and he suddenly felt heat rushing to his lower region.

He could see himself becoming obsessed with this girl.

“Rose,” he breathed. “You look beautiful.”

He was not trying to flatter her or ‘be nice’ as Rouge had instructed him – she really did look beautiful.

He approached her, possessed by an urge to touch her – but to his displeasure Amy shrank away, discomfort painted on her face.

“Thank you,” she mumbled uneasily.

His servants seated Amy and began to serve her meal. Shadow watched her intently as he drank his red wine, waiting for her to eat her fill: he knew that he would not get much out of her until she had satiated her hunger. Even though she was starving, she ate in a way that was well-mannered and dainty. Fitting for a future queen, he thought.

“I’m glad you decided to make the wise choice of having dinner with me, Rose,” Shadow said once Amy had eaten a little.

Her gaze fell to the floor. “I had no choice,” she muttered through a mouthful of food. “You would have let me starve to death if I hadn’t.”

“Even so,” Shadow growled, “I’m glad you did. If you continue to behave I will grant you access to the rest of the fortress, then its grounds, and then eventually the outside world. But you need to show me that you’re willing to be a good girl and obey me.”

Amy put her knife and fork down and cast Shadow a distrustful look.

“My lord,” she said, “why have you asked me to dinner tonight?”

Shadow poured himself another glass of wine. “Because I wanted to get to know you better, Rose,” he said simply. “I want to know about your fears and your desires.”

“Why should I tell you anything?”

Shadow shot her a dangerous look. A warning.

“Because I am your king,” he growled in a low voice, “and I have commanded it.”

She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. “If you’re going to interrogate me again,” she muttered, “I’ve already told you everything I know.”

In spite of her insolence, Shadow’s gaze softened. She’s afraid I’m trying to get information about her family.

“All right,” he said finally. “Why don’t we make an agreement? I’ll agree to answer your questions if you agree to answer mine.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “You will? Why?”

Shadow’s lip twisted in a smirk. “This dinner is as much about you getting to know me as it is about me getting to know you.”

Amy frowned, evidently still confused, but gave a small nod. “Fine,” she relented.

“Then we have a deal,” Shadow growled, swilling his wine in his glass. “I’ll answer three questions. Now ask.”

Amy hesitated, as if wondering which question she ought to ask first.

“Why did you save me from that Dark Presence soldier?” she finally blurted out.

Shadow narrowed his eyes. “Do you think it would please me to see you raped?” he hissed. “Is that the sort of thing they teach you in the Resistance?”

“No,” Amy said defensively. “But you killed your own soldier to spare the dignity of your enemy. That has to mean something.”

“I killed him because you’re mine,” Shadow said darkly. “And I won’t allow common foot soldiers to defile what rightfully belongs to me.”

Amy’s cheeks reddened. “I don’t belong to you,” she retorted hotly. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

“And yet here you are,” Shadow snarled, “sitting in my fortress, eating my food, and wearing my emblem around your neck.”

He noticed that Amy had flattened her ears angrily, but she said nothing.

“Besides,” Shadow went on, “my soldiers need to know that they cannot go about raping women with impunity, like in the days of the Eggman Empire. I will not allow the Dark Presence to tarnish my name by committing atrocities under my flag.”

Amy stabbed her meat moodily with her fork. “You didn’t need to kill him like that,” she mumbled, “like an animal being slaughtered. You could have held a fair trial. You could have imprisoned him.”

“You really wish to defend your own rapist?”

“It isn’t about me,” Amy protested. “It’s about living in a free Mobius.”

“The Dark Presence know the law,” Shadow said coldly. “The penalty for breaking it is death.”

His tone invited no argument. He was pleased when Amy dropped the subject. Smart girl.

“I suppose that brings me to my second question,” she sighed. “Shadow – my lord – why do you choose to rule in a way that is so… brutal?”

Shadow cut his meat thoughtfully. “All people are naturally inclined towards evil,” he answered, “and will act as such unless their baser instincts are kept under control. My job as king is to exert that control. My regime may be perceived by some as.... harsh,” he admitted. “But that is the price we must pay for peace.”

Amy blinked at him. Her jade-green eyes looked sad.

“I believe in the opposite,” she said. “People are naturally inclined towards the good, King Shadow. They just need to be given the opportunity to flourish. That is why – that is why I fight for the Resistance.”

Shadow met her gaze. In spite of her naivety, there was something about the girl’s optimism he found endearing. It reminded him of his sister, Maria.

The last words she had spoken to him flashed in his mind. Promise me, Shadow.

He pushed his plate away so abruptly his cutlery clattered. Stop thinking about Maria, he told himself furiously.

Amy frowned. “My lord? Is everything all right?”

“Fine,” he snapped, “just – that’s enough about me. Tell me about yourself. Do you have any family?” He noticed Amy hesitate, so he added, “I promise I am not trying to get information on your family, Rose. I simply wish to know a little about the hedgehog sitting across the table from me.”

Amy pushed her food around her plate with her fork. He thought she might try to refuse him, until she let out a sigh and began to answer.

“My mother died during the Eggman Empire,” she said reluctantly. “Doctor Eggman’s robots gunned her down during one of his infamous hedgehog culls. My father still lives, but he suffers from long asthma and besides, I think most of the fight left him when my mother died.”

Shadow blinked at her, stunned at how remarkably similar their backgrounds were. He was familiar with long asthma, the name given to the chronic breathing difficulties caused by inhaling Doctor Eggman’s poisonous factory fumes. Maria had suffered terribly from it – though that wasn’t what had killed her, in the end. When Shadow became king, he had torn down the factories almost overnight in revenge.

He clenched his fist around his wine glass. “I’m sorry about your mother,” he told her. “I hope it brings you comfort to know that she was avenged when I killed Doctor Eggman for his crimes.”

Amy gazed at him sadly for a moment. Then she averted her eyes.

“And how about you, my lord? What family do you have? Besides Mephiles, of course.”

Shadow froze. Don’t think about Maria. Don’t think about Maria.

“No,” he managed to say. “I – I can’t answer that question, Rose. Perhaps one day… but not now. I’m sorry, but – I just can’t.”

Amy blinked at him in surprise but, to his relief, she seemed to respect his boundaries.

Was his pain really that visible?

“It’s okay,” she said gently. “I can ask something else.”

“You’ve already asked your three questions, little rose.”

“But you’ve only answered two,” she retorted.

Shadow smirked. It seemed his prisoner was quite the fireball.

“Fine,” he relented, taking a sip of his wine. “Ask your third question, then.”

Amy wavered. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. It was as if she were mustering up the courage to say what she wanted. Finally, she put her knife and fork down and met his gaze evenly.

“My lord,” she said, “why did you ask me to dinner tonight?”

“You’ve asked me this already. Forgetful, are we?”

“No, I mean…” She took a deep breath. “My lord, all your other prisoners are in the dungeons. Most Resistance members you catch are executed by dawn. And yet for some reason, you’ve moved me into a beautiful bedchamber, provided me with an entire wardrobe of clothes, and invited me to dine with you. Why?”

Shadow rested his head on his knuckles, appraising her with glimmering red eyes. Rouge had led him to believe this girl was some pretty little idiot who would simply be grateful to be alive, but she was more observant than they had perhaps given her credit for. He wondered how to answer her question, before concluding that there was no reason in hiding the inevitable from her.

“Because I wish to marry you, Rose.”

Shock flashed across her face. Clearly she hadn’t been expecting that.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Why me?”

A frustrated growl rumbled in Shadow’s throat. “I may be king, but I am no fool. The people obey me out of fear, but I know they hold no love for me. By marrying you, I hope to soften my brutal image. You would lead by my side, and inspire love from the people. In time, you would bear my children.”

He noticed her redden at his last remark – it seemed she, too, had realised the implication of his words.

“Why would I marry the hedgehog who has imprisoned and killed so many of my friends?” 

“In return for your hand in marriage, I would grant you some political power and cede some concessions to the Resistance. It goes without saying that you will want for nothing – you will never know the pain of hunger again, and the finest clothes and jewels in all the land would be at your fingertips. And…” His tone softened. “I could make you happy, Rose. Despite what you may think, I am not a monster. Let me show you the good I have brought to the realm, Rose. Let me take care of you.”

“Do you really think,” she hissed, “that my loyalty can be bought with a few pretty dresses?”

Shadow met her gaze evenly. “No,” he said finally.

“What happens if I refuse?”

His voice hardened. “Then as a member of the Resistance you will be executed for treason, like the rest of your traitorous little friends.”

“So I have no choice but to marry you.”

“You have a choice,” Shadow said coldly. “I will have you, Rose, or no-one will.”

She was trembling. “You’re barbaric,” she said, her voice shaking.

“You don’t know the meaning of the word,” Shadow spat. “Marrying a king and living a life of easy luxury is more than most girls in this world can hope for. Perhaps you should ask Rouge what women were forced to do during the chaos of the Eggman Empire. Perhaps that will show you the meaning of barbaric.”

He rose abruptly from the table.

“Make your choice, Rose,” he commanded her. “I will expect your answer at dawn.”

Then turned to the Dark Presence soldier who had brought Rose to the dining room.

“Take Rose back to her chambers. My prisoner is tired.”

Shadow watched as his soldier took her wrist and began to march her out of the room. The last thing he saw was Amy shooting him a glance of pure loathing before she rounded a corner and disappeared.

­­­As soon as Amy returned to the bedchamber she ripped off her necklace and cast it angrily across the room.

That brute. That complete and utter monster.

Ever since Amy had been a little girl, she had dreamed of falling in love and marrying the man of her dreams and then living happily ever after, just like the fairy tales she loved so much. As she became older she had grown to love Sonic, the rightful king of their country, from afar. It was only a silly, childish crush but he exemplified many of the traits Amy looked for in a mate: he was kind; he was brave; he was selfless. And he was a hedgehog: Amy had always known she’d wanted to be a mother one day, and marrying someone that was the same species as her made that possible.

In one evening King Shadow had ripped her future callously away from her. She would never marry a kind and gentle man, never be surprised with a sweet and romantic proposal. Her options were marrying the monster who had killed her friends, or death. It was hard to know which was worse.

She lay awake on her bed, trying to come to a decision; Shadow had told her he expected her answer at dawn. Would death really be so bad? King Shadow was ruthless, but he was not sadistic; her death would be quick and painless. And it meant she would die with her honour and dignity intact.

But Amy knew it would devastate her father. Her mother’s death had broken him; if she was executed then she may as well sign his death warrant, too. And – perhaps selfishly – Amy was afraid. I don’t want to die, whispered a small voice in the back of her mind.

What about marrying him? In some ways it felt like a life sentence – except instead of spending the rest of her days rotting in a dungeon, she would have to spend her life with him. She would likely have to give herself to him, physically: he had made it clear that he expected an heir from her. Worse, she would feel like she was betraying her friends. What would Cat have said, knowing Amy was sleeping with the tyrant who had taken his life?

Yet… marrying King Shadow could benefit the Resistance more than anything they’d achieved so far. Shadow had promised to grant her some political power, and grant some concessions to the Resistance. She could try to soften his brutal regime – free some prisoners, abolish the executions. Can I trust him to keep his word? she wondered. Somehow, Shadow didn’t strike her as the sort of person who would lie to her. If he wanted something he would simply take it – he had no use for deception.

And then her own selfish desires presented themselves again. Despite his unpleasant personality, Shadow was very handsome. It had been hard to deny that when she saw him dressed in his royal attire at their dinner just now. And he was a hedgehog, which meant that Amy’s dreams of becoming a mother were possible. Doctor Eggman had killed so many hedgehogs during his reign – no doubt because of his hatred of Sonic – that Amy had, until now, resigned herself to the fact that children might never happen for her.

Before long it was dawn and Amy still hadn’t made a decision. Her heart sank when she heard a knock at her door. Was that King Shadow coming to receive her decision?

To her surprise, it was not King Shadow but a Dark Presence soldier.

“All hail Shadow,” he said by way of greeting.

“Long may he reign,” Amy responded immediately.

“King Shadow has regretfully been called away on… urgent business,” the soldier told her. “He has granted you free rein of the castle’s east wing in his absence. Breakfast has been left for you in the dining room.”

Then the Dark Presence soldier closed the door without another word.

Amy waited for the soldier’s steps to recede. Then, tentatively, she crept to the door and tried the handle.

It was unlocked.

The cogs began turning in Amy’s mind as she thought up a plan. Perhaps she wouldn’t need to make a decision after all. Perhaps there was a third way: Escape the castle and run.

She opened the doors to her wardrobe so she could dress. If she had any chance of escape she would need to wear clothes that were easy to move around in, but to her frustration she found that most of her clothes were pretty yet impractical dresses. In the end she put on the only remotely practical outfit she could find – some brown riding breeches and an off-white shirt.

She made her way down to the dining room, remembering the way there from yesterday. They had laid out a ridiculous amount of food for one person – crusty rolls of bread with butter and jam, soft-boiled eggs and rashers of bacon, bowls of fresh fruit. Amy ate a little, then stuffed some bread and fruit in her pockets. She didn’t know when she might need it.

Instead of coming back the way she came, Amy proceeded in the opposite direction, towards what she assumed was the east wing of the castle. The corridors were empty, the fortress seemingly devoid of Dark Presence soldiers. Whatever had taken Shadow out of the castle this morning seemed to be occupying his ground forces, too. This was good: it would be easier for her to escape.

She tried the doors she passed in the corridor. Most were locked or led to bare, empty rooms that clearly hadn’t been used in some time. Suddenly Amy passed a door that caught her interest. Unlike the other wooden doors, this door was made of metal and had no handle, suggesting it operated electronically. It was strikingly out of place in the otherwise traditional fortress.

Amy approached it – and as suspected, the door slid open automatically. Amy hesitated, unsure whether a door as strange as this would lead her outside. Even if it doesn’t, there might be some information useful to the Resistance inside, she reasoned. She slipped through the door; it whirred shut behind her.

The hall she now found herself in was unlike any other room she had seen so far. Unlike the rest of the fortress, which had been built in a traditional style, this room was modern and high-tech. It had a smooth, metallic floor, illuminated dimly by the electronic lights in the ceiling and the great blue-green screen on one wall. At the end of the hall was a door bearing a red symbol in the shape of an eye.

Amy’s eyes widened. This must be the Dark Eyes’ headquarters, she realised.

Suddenly she heard voices. Panicked, Amy immediately hid in a nearby metal cabinet.

She recognised Rouge’s velvety tones, as well as the voice of someone else she didn’t recognise.

“ – Dark Hands have managed to neutralise the threat,” the unfamiliar voice was saying. “Their success was largely in part to the Dark Eyes receiving intelligence in advance of the attack.”

Amy creaked the cabinet door open just a crack. Rouge was there, standing with her back to Amy, her silhouette dark and sharp against the bright screen on the wall. Next to her was a red echidna girl dressed in the same black jumpsuit as Rouge. Most of her spines were adorned with traditional decorative bandages but Amy noticed that one spine was made completely of metal, as if she had been rescued while in the early stages of roboticization.

“Excellent work, Lien-Da. Are there any casualties to report?”

“Two Dark Hands soldiers were killed by the rebel forces, but our good king Shadow quickly managed to overwhelm them when he arrived with reinforcements, Commander. Their deaths were not in vain – we managed to capture almost all of the Resistance members who launched the attack. We’ll begin interrogations once we bring them back to headquarters later today.”

“And the red echidna?”

“Escaped again.” There was frustration in the echidna girl’s voice. “I don’t know how he keeps managing to evade our grasp, Commander. It’s like he knows when we’re coming.”

“Hmm…” Rouge mused thoughtfully.

Suddenly Rouge froze. She still had her back to Amy but her ears were straining towards the metal cabinet.

Amy held her breath, praying she would not be found.

“Commander?” Lien-Da queried uneasily.

There was a pause. “Nothing,” Rouge said finally. “As far as Knuckles is concerned, it’s possible we have a mole somewhere in our forces. Some Dark Eyes soldiers were former Resistance members before they joined us, after all. Carry out an investigation at once, Lien-Da. Trust no-one, not even your closest comrades.”

“At once, Commander.”

“That reminds me. How is our newest recruit doing?”

“He’s doing well – he’s very bright, considering how young he is. He’s already made impressive technological advancements to our vehicles and weaponry. I expect he will go far in the Dark Eyes, in time.”

Rouge stopped before the door at other end of the hall, hands on her hips. It appeared she was looking at a keypad next to the door.

“Oh, they’ve changed the stupid password again. What is it now?”

“M-A-R-I-A, Commander.”

“That was it.”

There was a series of beeps as Rouge punched in the password. The door slid open.

“I know it’s good for security to change the password now and then, but it sure makes things difficult to remember. Anyway, let’s discuss the Solaris Project…”

The door closed, and Rouge and Lien-Da’s voices trailed off.

Amy stayed in the cabinet for what must have been at least twenty minutes. Then, when she felt sure that Rouge had gone, she slowly creaked the cabinet door open and crept out.

Amy knew she ought to leave and head back to the west wing. She had come inches away from being caught just now.

But the Dark Eyes’ headquarters lay just on the other side of the door Rouge had gone through. What’s more was that she now had the password. She would never get such a valuable opportunity to discover the Dark Eyes’ secrets again, especially since they apparently changed the password frequently. If she was going to escape, shouldn’t she at least bring some useful information with her?

As quietly as she could, Amy rushed to the door and dialled the password on the keypad. M-A-R-I-A.

The doors slid open. Amy was in another hallway, this time with even more doors. She tried the same password on the first door, but the keypad flashed red. Incorrect password. Please try again.

Whatever lay behind that door, there was no way of Amy getting in. She abandoned it and tried the same password on the second door. To her triumph, the keypad flashed green and the doors slid open.

She found herself in a strange, circular room. In the centre of the room was a giant glass tube that somehow reminded Amy of a candle without the wax. And inside the tube was a great, blindingly bright flame that danced and twisted like cloth in the wind. Amy watched it, mesmerized.

Her thoughts were sharply interrupted by the sound of the electronic doors closing shut behind her. She whipped around, her heart pounding furiously in her chest.

It was Mephiles the Dark.

“Well, well, well,” he hissed softly. “What do we have here?”

Chapter Text

Mephiles advanced on her.

Amy instinctively backed away. In the light of the fire dancing inside the glass tube, she could see Mephiles’ features as clear as day. It was remarkable how much he looked like his twin brother: he was nearly identical to Shadow, save for his blue-grey markings and his piercing green eyes. It was his eyes that unnerved Amy most of all: they looked predatory, almost reptilian. If Shadow’s eyes were like fire, then Mephiles’ eyes were like ice.

His voice was gentle, yet something about it made Amy shiver.

“If it isn’t my brother’s favourite little pet,” he said softly, “escaped from her gilded cage. Rose, was it?”

Amy held her fists up to her face, trying to look braver than she felt. She might not have her war hammer anymore, but she could still land a punch if she needed to.

“Stay away,” she warned, trying to keep her voice from wavering. “King Shadow will have your head if you hurt me.”

“My dear,” he chuckled, “what makes you think I’m going to hurt you? We’re just talking, aren’t we?”

Amy lowered her fists uneasily. It was true – there was nothing to overtly suggest the black hedgehog was going to attack. Yet there was a strange disconnect between his words and his eyes. Every hair on Amy’s body was screaming at her to run.

He shifted his gaze up to the fire burning in the great glass tube.

“What do you think of my little project, Rose? Impressive, isn’t it?”

Amy followed his gaze. “What is it?”

“The heart of a god,” Mephiles breathed. “Or half of it, anyway.”

She could see the bright, twisting flames reflected in his eyes.

“There are two halves, you see,” he went on smoothly. “Fire and shadow; light and darkness. Opposites, yet intrinsically connected. What you see here are the Flames of Disaster – one half of the puzzle. But to achieve our aims, we need to reunite it with the other half, held within the Sceptre of Darkness.”

Amy’s ears were pricked and attentive. This is useful information for the Resistance.

She tried to keep him talking. “What happens if you reunite the two halves?”

“Then we hold the power of a god in our hands, and the Dark Empire’s reign is secured forever.” He glanced back at her. “Though it seems that you are busy working on that front already, what with all this talk of you marrying my brother and giving him an heir.”

Amy looked at him in alarm. “You know about that?”

His lips twisted in a smirk. “My dear, everybody knows about that. Our noble ruler seems to have taken quite a fancy to you. Everyone’s been talking about how good king Shadow killed one of his own men to spare the innocence of a lowly maiden. And now it seems he’s content to let her wander the fortress, poking her nose into things she shouldn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Amy said quickly. “If you let me leave, I’ll go straight back to my bedchamber. I won’t tell anyone what I saw here, I promise.”

“I know you won’t, sweet rose,” he replied darkly. “It’ll be our little secret.”

He rounded on her. Amy took a backwards step or two until her back made contact with the glass tube. She realised was trapped between Mephiles and the glass; there was nowhere else to go.

“The thing is,” he murmured, his voice suddenly taking on an ominous tone, “while my brother pretends to be all righteous and principled, I’m afraid I don’t quite share the same sentiments. I really have no issue with raping and murdering and pillaging. You might even say I find it fun. Haven’t you ever wondered where I got the nickname Mephiles the Dark?”

And there it was – the proof that Amy was right to feel afraid after all.

She tried to make her voice sound threatening.

“I am to be King Shadow’s bride,” she said. “Hurt me, and I promise you that when I am queen, I will return the pain a thousand times over.”

Of course, Amy hadn’t decided to marry Shadow yet – but Mephiles didn’t know that.

“Have you decided to accept his proposal, then?” Mephiles asked, as casually as if they were discussing the weather. “Good – my brother would very much like an heir. Of course,” he added darkly, “Shadow is my twin brother. We are bound by blood. So I suppose it doesn’t really matter who puts the baby in you, does it?”

The sinister implication of his words chilled Amy to her core. She could feel panic bubbling rapidly in her chest.

“Shadow would kill you if you touched me,” she whispered.

“I’m sure he would,” Mephiles murmured back. “But Shadow isn’t here, is he?”

He reached up to cup her cheek. Amy’s breath hitched in her throat. She angled her knee, preparing to aim a well-placed kick to the groin. He was physically stronger than her, but if she landed a blow in his weak spot, perhaps it would give her just enough time to escape…

A voice made them both freeze.

“Step away from Rose, Mephiles – now.”

It was Shadow. Amy did not know whether she ought to feel relief or panic.

Irritation flashed across Mephiles’ face. He turned away to face his brother, his ears flat against his head.

“Dear brother,” he hissed, “why do you always have to go and ruin my fun?”

“Rose is mine,” Shadow snarled. “She is not yours to torment.”

“Torment? You are always so serious, brother. I was only playing around with her a little."

There was a flash of red, and suddenly Shadow had Mephiles pinned against the wall by his neck.

“Play with her again,” he said in a dangerously low growl, “and not even my promise to Maria will be enough to save you. Do you understand me?”

Mephiles glared at Shadow, his reptilian green eyes glimmering in the firelight. 

“Yes,” Mephiles spat, his voice dripping with venom. “I understand you. Now let me go.”

Shadow stared at Mephiles a few heartbeats longer, anger and disgust churning like molten lava in his eyes. Then he released his grip and turned away.

“Get out of my sight.”

Mephiles cast one last murderous look at Shadow, then at Amy. Then he slunk away, his lean black shape like a shadow on the wall.

Shadow immediately rushed over to Amy, cupping her cheeks in his hands. There was concern painted on his face.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded.

“N-No, my lord,” Amy stammered.

Shadow seemed to relax a little, although he was still visibly displeased.

“I ordered you to stay in the west wing,” he growled. “You disobeyed me.”

Amy began making a hurried excuse. “I’m sorry, my lord – I got lost – I was only –”

“Trying to find information for the Resistance,” Shadow interrupted savagely. “Rouge noticed you sneaking into the Dark Eyes’ headquarters, Rose. Did you really think she wouldn’t inform me?”

While Shadow looked unhappy, he didn’t seem as furious as she expected. His reaction reminded Amy of her father when she’d not come home until after curfew one time: angry and worried, but ultimately relieved she was safe. 

He exhaled. “It isn’t safe for you to be wandering the fortress alone, Rose,” he told her. “I’d like to make you my bride, but right now you are merely a prisoner. This means that some – like Mephiles – will see you as fair game.”

Indignation rose in Amy. “Then perhaps you should not have people in your employ who think it is acceptable to hurt a woman.”

“I don’t,” he snarled, “which is why I killed that soldier who tried to hurt you. Or have you forgotten?”

“And yet your brother is still walking around unpunished.”

Shadow sighed and turned away. She had gotten him there.

“My relationship with Mephiles is… complicated,” he said. “I admit he is… difficult, at times. But I made a promise to watch over him, Rose. I will not go back on my word.”

“A promise to who?” Amy asked, but Shadow didn’t respond. He was suddenly looking pained.

Amy took a cautious step towards him.

“Do you…” Amy swallowed. “Do you really think he would have hurt me? If you hadn’t shown up, I mean.”

Shadow pinched his brow. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Mephiles finds amusement in preying on people’s worst fears – even I am not safe from him on that front. I’d like to think he was only tormenting you for fun. But whatever happens, Rose,” he added, “know that no harm will ever come to you while I am by your side. Do you understand me?”

“How can you say that?” Amy breathed in disbelief. “You told me you would execute me if I choose not to marry you.”

“And I have been praying to the gods ever since that you will choose the other option,” he said.

The two hedgehogs stared at each other in silence. As Amy met his gaze, she was surprised by two things. The first was that Shadow still prayed to the gods; he was so cruel and so relentlessly practical in his view of the world that it seemed almost absurd he should still pray to the gods when she didn’t. The second was that Shadow seemed genuine when he claimed to pray she would choose marriage with him over death. There was no coldness or menace in his eyes this time; just sadness, and a glimmer of something that looked like regret.

It was then that Amy noticed the dark, sticky blood clumping Shadow’s fur. It was barely visible against his black pelt. She touched him gently before examining the blood smeared on her fingertips.

“You’re hurt,” she murmured. “What happened?”

Shadow covered his wounds sharply with his cloak. “Some trouble with your little Resistance friends this morning,” he said coldly. “They decided to use some Eggman explosives they found to blow up a hospital.”

A jolt of shock went through Amy.

“They wouldn’t do that,” she said immediately.

“They already have, countless times before,” Shadow snarled. “They know they cannot defeat the Dark Presence through brute force, so instead they target innocents hoping that will make me give in to their demands. Did your red echidna friend not tell you that, little rose?”

Amy frowned, feeling confused and uncomfortable. She’d never heard of the Resistance doing anything as unconscionable as harming innocents to further their political goals, and she found it difficult to believe they would do such a thing – but then she knew very little about the work of the other Resistance factions. The only other explanation was that King Shadow was lying to her, perhaps to induce her to marry him; but again, while Shadow was undoubtedly ruthless he didn’t strike her as dishonest.

Her eyes fell to the blood on her hands.

“Did they fight you?” she asked.

“They tried,” he replied simply.

The black hedgehog strode over to her. He took her face in his hand and lifted it, forcing her to look at him. The concern and regret in his eyes was gone, replaced with his usual cold expression. His features looked stark and handsome in the firelight.

“It’s time you gave me your answer, Rose,” he demanded. “Marry me and hope to end this war, or die. Make your choice.”

Amy swallowed. Her heart was racing furiously in her chest. She was still no closer to making a decision than she was when Shadow had first raised the subject at dinner yesterday. Worse, the revelation that the Resistance had allegedly targeted innocents, both today and in the past, had left Amy feeling horribly confused about everything. What she thought had been black and white had now melted inexplicably into a thousand shades of grey.

I need to buy time, she realised.

“Can I go and speak to my father first?” she said suddenly.

Shadow’s eyes flashed in surprise. “Your father?”

“Yes. He’ll be worried sick about me after my capture – and besides,” Amy added, “it’s tradition to ask the bride’s father for his blessing before marriage.”

She knew King Shadow was the sort of person who respected duty and tradition, and she had intentionally made her latter point with that in mind. It was working – she could practically see the cogs turning in Shadow’s mind as he weighed up her proposal.

“Very well,” he said at last. “I will send the Dark Presence to escort you.”

“No,” Amy said immediately. Shadow’s eyes flashed distrustfully, so she hurriedly added, “I’m sorry, my lord, but I can’t risk you knowing where my father lives – not when the Dark Presence so readily takes the family of Resistance members into custody.”

Shadow narrowed his eyes. “Do you really expect me to believe that you won’t run away? I gave you the privilege of leaving your bedchamber this morning, and you immediately tried to escape.”

Amy met his gaze steadily. “Whatever I decide, I promise I’ll return to you,” she told him. “You have my word.”

Shadow appraised her for a moment, as if trying to work out whether she was lying. Then he let go of her face and turned away.

“Fine,” he growled over his shoulder. “Go – I will tell the Dark Presence not to stop you. If you haven’t returned by midnight tomorrow, I will assume you have fled and brand you an enemy of the Crown. The Dark Presence will have authority to kill you on sight.”

Amy stared at him for a moment, stunned that he had actually agreed to her demands.

Then she nodded and scurried out of the room before he could change his mind.

Amy decided to take a short nap before she left: she had barely slept the night before, so she wanted to rest before making such a big journey. She woke a little after midday and had a light lunch before finally making her way out of the fortress. A pair of Dark Presence soldiers escorted her to the gate; then as promised she was left alone, the whole world stretching before her. It was a pleasant spring day, with only a few clouds moving lazily across the azure sky. The sun was warm on her face and a gentle breeze stirred her quills. It had only been a few days, but it felt like she had been Shadow’s captive for an eternity.

She wished she could savour her fleeting period of freedom for longer, but it was a long journey on foot to her village and she wanted to get there before nightfall. At midnight the Dark Presence would impose their curfew, and though King Shadow had promised that his forces would allow her passage, she didn’t want to risk inviting trouble if it could be avoided.

She managed to make it back to her father’s cottage around sunset. Her heart began to pound as she pushed the door open. A small part of her feared she would find him gone – or worse.

“Father?” she called softly into the house. “It’s me, Amy.”

She was relieved when she heard his rasping, wheezy response. “Amy?”

Amy continued into the living room and there he was, looking thin and defeated but still very much alive. Amy immediately rushed to his side and threw her arms around him, burying her head in his silvery fur. She did not realise she was crying until she felt the tears dampening her cheeks.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

“Oh, Rosy,” he murmured sadly, returning the embrace. “My sweet little Rosy.”

When she pulled away she saw his eyes were watery with tears, too.

“Amy, you can’t imagine my pain,” he choked out. “I saw the Dark Presence take you away – I never thought I’d see you again…”

“I’m sorry for disappearing,” she said. “But I’m here now. I’m alive – and so are you. That’s the most important thing.”

“I’m alive but I barely have the strength to move – Mr. and Mrs. Prower have been bringing me meals, bless their hearts – their son Miles was taken by the Dark Presence too –”

Concern flooded her body. She emptied her pockets of the bread and fruit she had taken from breakfast earlier.

“Here,” she murmured, “I brought this for you.”

“Thank you, Amy – you’ve always been a good daughter – but never mind me. My concern right now is you. What happened?”

She took a deep breath. It was time to be honest with her father.

“The Dark Presence took me away,” she said, “because I’m part of the Resistance.”

He furrowed his brow. “The Resistance? Oh, Rosy – why would you get yourself mixed up in all that? I know you’re a woman grown but you’re still my little girl – I would be devastated if anything happened to you…”

“Because I believe in a free Mobius,” she answered, her voice wavering. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I knew you would worry and besides, I didn’t want to lead the Dark Presence back here.”

He sighed and drew his hand over his face. “Oh, Rosy,” he whispered. “You’re so much like your mother. She would have been so proud of you for standing up for what you believe in.”

In spite of her tears, Amy managed a small smile.

“But I don’t understand,” he went on. “If King Shadow executes members of the Resistance, then how are you here now?”

Amy swallowed, wondering how to explain her predicament. She decided to sit down.

“King Shadow doesn’t always execute members of the Resistance,” she said. She recalled how Shadow had told her she’d make a fine Dark Arms warrior, how she’d overheard Rouge saying that many Dark Eyes soldiers were former Resistance members. “Sometimes he’ll offer them a place in the Dark Presence, if he thinks they have skills that could be useful to him.”

“So King Shadow has offered you a place in the Dark Presence?”

“Not exactly,” Amy said uncomfortably.

Her father tilted his head slightly, a wordless question in his eyes. Amy decided to just come out with it.

“King Shadow has asked for my hand in marriage,” she said, “in exchange for my life.”

Her father raised his eyebrows. It seemed he was just as surprised at this turn of events as she had been.

“I didn’t understand why, at first,” she went on. “But he explained that he wants to marry a member of the Resistance to try and quell the rebellion. And Shadow wants an heir,” she added awkwardly, “and of course I’m a hedgehog, so…”

“What was your answer to him?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” she explained. “That’s why I’m here. I wanted to get your advice.”

His head shot up. “Amy, you must –”

His words were cut off by a violent fit of coughing. Amy fell to his side, flooded with concern.

Eventually, her father managed to catch his breath. “Amy, you must marry him,” he rasped. “You have always been idealistic: even as a little girl you preferred to live in the world of your fairy tales, where true love conquers all and the heroes always defeat the villains. But the real world is painted in shades of grey and often change can only come about through compromise.”

“But he’s a monster,” Amy whispered.

“Yes,” her father said, “but you will be safer as his queen than you will at the barrel of his executioner’s gun. You will have the Dark Presence and many other powers and protections at your disposal, and you will never need to worry about starving or freezing in the winter.”

He took her hands in his own.

“I know how you must be feeling right now, Amy,” he told her somberly. “I know that accepting his proposal feels like giving up and casting aside everything you believe in. But just because you marry him, it doesn’t mean you need to stop fighting. You can help your cause more as ruler of this country than you can by risking your life for a ragtag band of rebels.”

Then he met her gaze.

“Above all, you must survive,” he whispered. “Fight and survive, Amy.”

Tears pricked at her eyes. Amy tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

“I will,” she said, her voice cracking.

“Thank you for giving your blessing to our marriage,” a familiar voice said from behind them. “It means a great deal to me.”

Amy whipped her head round and the sight that met her made her mouth turn dry.

It was King Shadow.

“No,” she breathed, horrified.

He was standing nearby, his large frame looking ludicrously out of place in their tiny cottage. His upturned quills brushed the wooden beams of the low ceiling. He advanced on her; Amy scrambled to her feet and instinctively put herself between him and her father.  

“You –” she sputtered. “You promised you wouldn’t send the Dark Presence here –”

“And I kept my word,” he snarled. “I never promised not to come after you myself.”

Then his gaze softened and he lifted a hand to brush her cheek.

“I had to make sure my little rose wouldn’t run away,” he added softly.

They were interrupted by another bout of coughing from her father.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” her father rasped. “I would rise, but…”

Shadow cast his gaze over the thin, weak hedgehog before looking away.

“There is no need to trouble yourself,” he said impassively. “I am familiar with the struggles of long asthma.”

Amy gripped Shadow’s red-striped wrist in desperation; his eyes flicked downwards, surprised at the unfamiliar touch. All along, she had sought to protect her father: she had kept him in the dark about her Resistance activities; she had tried to keep his whereabouts a secret from King Shadow. Now Shadow had forced her to relinquish her only remaining leverage. She was completely and utterly under his thumb. There was no longer any room for negotiation; all she could do now was beg.

“Please, Shadow,” she pleaded despairingly. “Please don’t take my father into custody. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He had no idea I was part of the Resistance, I swear.”

Shadow snatched his wrist away, his eyes flashing with anger. “You knew what would happen if you conspired against me.”

“Please,” she urged. “I’ll do anything you want – I’ll marry you – you can’t throw him in the dungeons, he won’t be able to survive down there with his asthma, please…”

The tears were running thick and fast down her cheeks now. She could barely contain the sobs racking through her chest. Shadow gazed down at her, his lips pulled back in a snarl. A low growl rumbled in his throat.

“Fine,” he spat. “I will leave your father unharmed… because I am fond of you.”

She fell to her knees, overcome with relief. “T-Thank you.”

Shadow turned away from her. Then he kneeled before Amy’s father, still sat in his armchair, so that the two hedgehogs were at eye level.

“Should Rose decide to accept my marriage proposal,” he said, “I vow to take care of her. I will cherish her and be faithful to her. And I will protect her with every ounce of my being, from this day until my last day. This I promise to you.”

Her father gave an uneasy nod.

“Thank you, my lord,” he muttered. There was not much else he could say.

Shadow rose to his feet and turned towards the door.

“It is time we were getting back to the castle,” he said. “Say goodbye to your father, Rose.”

Stifling a sob, Amy pulled her father into one last embrace. His familiar, comforting scent invaded her nostrils and suddenly Amy was a child again, and her father was telling her that everything was going to be okay. She wished she could go back, way back to before the Eggman Empire even, when her mother was alive and her father was happy and healthy.

But those days were gone. Now she had no choice but to follow Shadow and make an impossible decision.

Outside the cottage was a strange vehicle Amy recognised as an aircraft. Shadow’s emblem had been painted on its grey-green exterior but she could still see traces of the Eggman logo underneath, suggesting it was simply another Eggman invention looted and reappropriated by the Dark Presence. Shadow helped Amy into the passenger seat then positioned himself in the pilot’s seat. He pulled a lever and the aircraft shuddered to life.

He drove them back to the castle in silence, his cold red eyes set on the road ahead. Amy let her tears fall, her mouth set in a grim line. She felt worried for her father, angry that he had misled her, and dread about what was to come. Now that Amy had seen her father, Shadow would expect an answer from her.

They arrived at the fortress in a fraction of the time it would have taken Amy to make the journey by foot. The Dark Presence waved the aircraft through the gates. Shadow pulled a lever again and the aircraft became silent and unmoving. For a moment he simply sat there. He was gripping the control wheel so hard that she could see the muscles in his arm twitching underneath his black fur.

Finally, he spoke.

“Where we go next depends on your answer, Rose,” he said. His teeth were gritted, as if the words were somehow painful for him. “Will you marry me?”

Amy set her jaw, steely determination in her eyes. Fight and survive, Amy.

“I agree to marry you,” she said, “under two conditions.”

He flicked his ear. “Name them, then.”

“Under no circumstances are you to harm my father. No matter what, Shadow. Even if I later betray you and burn your house to the ground, you must promise that my father will never face any repercussions for my crimes. That is my first condition.”

Shadow narrowed his eyes. “Done.”

“I mean it,” she added, the hint of a snarl in her voice. “You can’t imprison him then claim that it doesn’t count because you haven’t technically harmed him. You don’t touch my father, ever.”

A glimmer of regret seemed to flash in his eyes. “You don’t need to worry about me, little rose,” he murmured. “As long as your father commits no crime himself, I promise that no harm will come to him.”

“The second condition,” Amy went on brusquely, “is that you free Miles Prower.”

Amy had asked this of Shadow before but he had denied her, telling her that she was in no position to make demands. But this time, Amy knew she had something he wanted: her hand in marriage. He might deny her again, but she needed to try and save her friend.

To her surprise, Shadow’s mouth turned up in a smirk. “I can’t grant that.”

Amy flattened her ears. “Then I will not marry you.”

“You don’t understand, little rose. I’m not trying to refuse you,” he explained. “I cannot free Miles Prower because he is no longer my prisoner."

Amy’s heart sank to her stomach. “You mean you’ve executed him?”

“No,” Shadow said. There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Understanding dawned on Amy. “He’s… joined you?”

“Yes,” Shadow said softly. “Miles Prower now works for the Dark Presence.”

“Take me to him,” she demanded immediately.

“As you wish.”

Shadow stepped out of the aircraft. Amy tried to do the same but found the door was locked; she was only able to exit when Shadow came round to her side and opened it from the outside. He really is worried I’ll escape, she thought. He held out his hand to help her safely onto the ground and Amy had no choice but to take it. She thought she would recoil at his touch but instead she felt her cheeks flame as his hand closed gently around her dainty fingers. It made her feel disgusted at herself.

He led her back to the modern annex she had been in earlier, which she recognised as the headquarters of the Dark Eyes. Then he took her through a maze of rooms and corridors; Amy tried to remember the routes they took and the passwords he used, knowing it would be useful information for her later, but it was so overwhelming and she was so utterly exhausted that she found she could not.

Eventually they came to a small room that looked vaguely like a lab. There was a small aircraft in the corner, surrounded by a scattering of tools: a wrench, a blowtorch, a welding mask. The only light in the room came from the white-green glare of the computer screen in another corner.

Hunched over the screen, tapping away at a keyboard, was a small vulpine figure. Amy peered at the figure tentatively. “Tails?”

Tails turned around – and what shocked her most was not his Dark Presence uniform, or the hostile look in his eyes.

It was that he only had one tail. All that was left of the other was a gored, bloody stump.

Amy pressed her hand to her mouth, horrified.

“Tails,” she whispered, “what have they done to you?”

Chapter Text

“You have ten minutes,” Shadow said. Then he left the room, the doors sliding shut behind him.

Amy’s breath caught in her throat. “Tails,” she choked.

She immediately ran over to the fox and threw her arms around him, flooded with a mixture of relief that he was still alive and horror at his mutilation. He didn’t return the embrace. Instead he remained limp in her arms, like a ragdoll.

Amy pulled away awkwardly. Her gaze went to his Dark Presence uniform, then to the mangled remains of his tail, and then finally to his face. He looked different, Amy thought. The last time she’d seen him was shortly after the ambush; he’d only been a boy there, childlike innocence and hope for a better future discernible in his baby blue eyes. It had only been a few days since then but somehow Tails looked like he’d aged a decade. The hope and innocence in his eyes was gone, replaced by a dull, resigned acceptance and an accusatory look bordering on hostility. He didn’t look pleased to see her, Amy realised.

“King Shadow told me you’d joined the Dark Presence,” she stammered, feeling like she had to explain herself for some reason. “I came as soon as I could.”

“Yeah,” Tails said flatly. “He promised to show me mercy if I joined him. I did it to protect my family.”

“I see.”

Amy swallowed, unable to take her eyes off the bloodied mess at the base of his tail.

“Your tail… what happened?”

“King Shadow told me that even if I joined the Dark Presence, I’d need to be punished for conspiring to overthrow him under the Resistance. He gave me a choice of things to lose but the tail was the obvious thing to go. I only need one, after all.” He flattened his ears and looked away. “I can’t fly anymore, and I still struggle with my balance. But it’s healing well, and I’m getting used to it.”

Amy brought her hands to her mouth, sickened. “Tails,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

Tails shrugged. “Only through trial do we find the strength we need,” he said. “At least, that’s what King Shadow said before he ordered his soldiers to cut my second tail off.”

Amy paced round the lab, brushing her fingers absentmindedly over the aircraft in the corner.

“What is it like,” she murmured, “working for King Shadow?”

She was eager to hear his answer. While she was of course concerned for Tails’ wellbeing, she could not deny that she was – perhaps selfishly – curious about what she could expect from a life with Shadow, if she chose to marry him. She was convinced he was a monster and that life with him would be hell – and yet she sometimes thought she saw glimpses of kindness in him: the concern he’d shown when he saved her from Mephiles; his willingness to listen to her demands. It was as if he was trying to be nice in his own warped, twisted way but he didn’t quite know how.

Or perhaps Amy was simply being her typical naïve, overoptimistic self again. She always saw the best in everyone. 

“S’alright,” Tails shrugged. “Commander Rouge seems nice and King Shadow is fair, so long as you do what he says. They pay me enough money to take care of my family, which is the important thing.”

“Tails –”

“Will you stop calling me Tails?” he snapped suddenly. “Tails was my alias under the Resistance, and I’ve left the Resistance behind. Besides,” he added, a twinge of sadness to his voice, “I’ve only got one tail now.”

Amy blinked at him, shocked. She had assumed that, like her, Tails had defected to King Shadow’s side out of necessity but he still believed in fighting for what was right. She would’ve thought his mutilation would make him more opposed to Shadow, not less – but it seemed like whatever fight he had in him before was gone.

Her father’s words echoed in her ears. Fight and survive, Amy.

“How can you say that?” she breathed. “The Resistance needs you. Mobius needs you. We can’t just give up now.”

A look of loathing flashed across Tails’ face.

“The Resistance?” he spat, his snout wrinkled in a snarl. “Yeah, they needed me alright – yet when I needed them, they were nowhere to be found. Where was the Resistance when I was getting my tail cut off? Where was the Resistance when my family were at risk of imprisonment because of my association with them?”

Amy opened her mouth and closed it. She couldn’t think of a good response.

“They were happy to make use of my talents when it suited them,” Tails went on bitterly. “Then they abandoned me to fend for myself the moment things went wrong. Well, I’ve learnt my lesson, Amy. Now I only look out for myself and my family. I’ve no use for friends anymore.”

Amy stared at him sadly, her triangular ears drooping. Seeing Tails like this was utterly heartbreaking – he was still just a child and already it felt like he had given up on the world.

“What about me?” she whispered.

Tails swivelled round in his chair, and for the first time since entering the lab he seemed to look at her properly. His blue eyes were clouded with suspicion.

“How are you still alive?” he asked warily. “You aren’t wearing any Dark Presence uniform.”

Amy wrung her hands together uneasily. “Shadow has asked me to marry him,” she explained. “I told him I’d only accept his proposal if he set you free.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Tails’ face, as if he had not expected anyone else to care for his wellbeing. But it was only there for a moment before being replaced with the resigned, hostile look from earlier.

“Then do yourself a favour and marry him, Amy,” Tails said wearily. “Don’t worry about fighting for the Resistance. I promise they will have already forgotten about you by now.”

He turned back to his computer. Amy stood there, her heart twisting with sorrow. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that there was still something worth fighting for – but she knew she’d be wasting her breath. The Tails she had known was gone.

Besides, Shadow had reappeared; her ten minutes was up. She followed him out of the room, her shoulders slumped despondently.

Once the doors slid shut behind them he turned to her, his hands brushing her waist.

“Did you like seeing your friend?” he murmured.

She knew he had not meant his comment maliciously but it was enough to make something snap inside Amy. With a roar of anguish, she began hammering her fists against the black hedgehog’s chest. She knew that she was not strong enough to hurt him, not really, but she didn’t care – she just needed to hit something. 

“I hate you,” she cried. “You cut off his tail. I hate you.” 

Shadow seized hold of her wrists easily. “He plotted to overthrow me, Rose. Did you expect me to welcome him with open arms?”

“So did I. Are you going to cut off my foot to stop me from running away?”

“You know I would never hurt you in that way.”

Bile rose in her throat “You promised him you would be merciful!”

“And I was,” Shadow snarled. “I spared his life.”

Amy struggled against him, trying to free her wrists so she could attack him again; with one swift movement, Shadow spun her around and pushed her against the wall, pinning her wrists behind her back. She was stuck, trapped between the cool surface of the wall on one side and Shadow’s warm, muscular torso on the other. He rested his head on her shoulder; she felt his warm breath tickle her ear.

“Stop fighting me, Rose.”

Stop fighting. That was what everyone had told her today, wasn’t it? – her father, her friend, her captor. Stop fighting; forget her beliefs; marry the king who had killed her friends. And she had tried so hard to stay strong but she was tired – so tired.

She went limp. An approving growl rumbled in his throat. “Good girl.”

Amy sighed. “Let me go,” she said.

It wasn’t clear whether her request was in reference to Shadow pinning her against the wall, or the fact that he was keeping her captive in his castle.

“No,” he breathed in her ear. “Not until you promise to marry me.”

“I’ve already told you I will.”

“I need to hear you say it, Rose.”

She let out another sigh. She knew this was what her father wanted, what was for the good of the country she so wanted to save – but it didn’t stop her from hating herself.

“I promise I’ll marry you.”

“And you’ll stop fighting me?”

“What does it matter? You’ll overpower me anyway.”

“You know I don’t mean physically, Rose,” he murmured. “If we’re going to be married, you can’t keep resenting me forever. You need to let the walls come down eventually.”

His voice softened.

“Let me love you, Rose. I know you think I’m a monster – but let me prove you wrong. Let me make you happy.”

You could never make me happy, Amy thought privately to herself – but she knew she would gain nothing from speaking the words aloud.

“Alright,” she mumbled. “I’ll stop fighting you.”

There was a pause – and then Shadow let out a breath. She felt his chest heave from behind her.

“Good,” he said finally. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that, Rose.”

He released her. Her wrists ached from the force of his grip; they would bruise later. She tried to straighten up but immediately stumbled, finding herself disoriented now Shadow was no longer holding her; but suddenly he was there again, catching her gently in his arms. There was a brief sensation of weightlessness as he lifted her with ease; and then he was carrying her, bridal style, out of the Dark Eyes’ headquarters and back towards her room. She let her head loll against the white fur on his chest. She had promised not to fight and even if she wanted to, she was too mentally and physically exhausted to resist him. Like Rouge had warned her, it seemed easier to simply do what he said.

He shifted her weight onto one arm, freeing up his other arm to open the door to her bedchamber. Then he placed her, gently, onto the bed. Someone – a servant perhaps – had lit a candle for her; she gazed at it through half-hooded eyes, mesmerised by the way its warm golden light pressed unrelentingly against the blue-black darkness of the night.

She expected Shadow to leave her. Instead, he removed his crown and gloves and placed them carefully on the bedside table. Then he climbed on top of the bed with her; the mattress springs squeaked in protest at his weight. She found that she was not afraid – there was nothing unchaste about his movements and even if there was, she was too tired and too defeated to care much anyway. On the contrary, it seemed like he was holding himself back – like he was afraid she was some delicate flower whose petals would wilt and fall if he touched them.

He was breathing heavily. It was loud in the silence of the room. After a while, she felt his fingers brushing against her and she realised he was stroking her quills. It felt good. Her eyelids felt heavy so she let them close, soothed by his rhythmic touch.

“Rose,” he murmured, though she didn’t know if his voice was real or from her dreams. “Rose.”

When Shadow woke up, he noticed that his bed felt unusually warm.

He realised that the whore he’d had sent to his chambers last night was still there. She blinked at him half-sleepily and half-alluringly, stretching with a sultry moan until her shirt was pulled enticingly over her breasts, tempting him with the offer of a morning romp should he so choose. He wrinkled his muzzle in a snarl, all traces of his former lust gone. He was ashamed at himself for doing something so dirty in a lapse of self-control, and of course he was going to take it out on the poor girl.

“Get out,” he spat.

The girl scrambled out of his bed and hurried out of the room, picking up the remains of her clothes from the floor as she went.

He leaned back in his bed and groaned disgruntledly, running his hand over his face. It was nearly ten o’clock; the morning sun was high in the sky. Not only had he behaved like some depraved animal last night, but now he was going to be late for his meeting with Rouge.

He had not intended to have a whore back in his chambers last night. This situation had happened enough times for him to know that he always hated himself after; he felt undeniably ashamed at his baseness of character, at his lack of self-restraint. But he had exhausted all his self-restraint in the bedchamber with Rose last night – Rose, who lay there like some prized, perfect painting he could look at but not touch. He’d had a different girl in his bed last night to take the edge off his desires, but it had been Rose he’d been thinking of the entire time.

Sighing, he got out of bed and began to wash himself. He knew that washing would make him even more late, but he didn’t care: he needed to feel clean after last night. Once he was done, he pulled his cloak around his shoulders and placed his crown between his ears. Then he began the long walk to the room where he was meeting Rouge.

She was waiting for him, perched on the edge of a table with a cup of green tea in her hand. Rouge never sat anywhere, only perched – Shadow assumed it was a bat thing. As usual, she looked perfect and pristine and not at all like she’d rolled out of bed ten minutes prior.

“Good morning, your majesty,” she said breezily. “How nice of you to join me.”

Shadow ignored the tea his servants had laid out for them and went straight for the coffee. Rouge was perhaps the only person who could tease him like that and leave with her head still on her shoulders. He respected her enough to put up with her occasional banter and besides, for all her teasing he knew Rouge was loyal to him beyond reproach. There was no need for him to establish dominance, which was the usual reason he punished anyone who challenged him.

“Late night last night?” she asked innocently. “Something… keeping you up, perhaps?”

He grunted and poured the coffee into his cup. “Something like that.”

“How was she? The whore, I mean. I used to work with her back in the day, you know. She always struck me as exceptionally talented. Although judging by the state she was in when she left your bedchamber this morning, perhaps she isn’t quite what she used to be.”

Shadow fixed her with a frosty stare. “We are changing the subject.”

“Well, anyway,” Rouge said carelessly, “I’m here to present my findings following our agreement to marry you off to the Resistance prisoner. As expected, my plan has been an unparalleled success. We’ve seen a consistently high level of engagement in the matter and my intelligence suggests that public opinion of you has already increased dramatically.”

Shadow took a sip of his coffee and nearly spat it back out. They had used the stale coffee beans this morning. The fight against the Resistance in the Mystic Ruins must not be going well.

“Go on,” he spluttered.

“As agreed, the Dark Eyes began the campaign by disseminating rumours and hearsay across the populace. This was mostly through our control of the press and other propaganda, but some of our spies spread information through word-of-mouth while posing as the common folk.

“Once it was established that you were looking to marry, the next thing the people wanted to know was who. The Dark Eyes stoked speculation by presenting a range of potential marriage candidates: Princess Blaze of the Sol Empire, Princess Sally of the Acorn Kingdom. Some theorised that Princess Sonia the Hedgehog had divorced her husband, Lord Bartleby Montclair, and was acting as a potential marriage candidate, though this wasn’t our doing.”

Shadow flicked his ear. “It seems the people are eager for me to marry another hedgehog.”

“Indeed. Once the people deduced from her wardrobe measurements that your bride was a hedgehog, public perception of you shot up. It’s obvious that the potential for a child is the deciding factor here.”

“Why do they even care?” Shadow grumbled, forcing himself to swallow his coffee. It tasted disgusting, but he was tired and he needed it to focus. “It’s not their marriage or child we’re talking about.”

“I know,” Rouge replied, “but it’s been a tough few years, Shadow. The people want something to look forward to. A sweet, babbling baby will bring joy to millions.”

She shot him a significant look.

“Has the girl agreed to your marriage proposal yet?”

“Yes,” Shadow admitted, “although she isn’t exactly thrilled by the prospect.”

“Good,” Rouge said briskly. “Now that’s agreed, we can officially introduce Rose and announce the engagement to the press. Have you thought about when you’d like the marriage to take place?”

He had. In truth, he’d thought about little else.

He wanted to marry Rose as soon as possible. First, the Resistance had grown increasingly bold as of late and Shadow was tiring of their antics. The little game they had played the other day – blowing up a hospital – could have been catastrophic if Shadow had not shown up to put them down. He hoped that, by marrying Rose, he would end or at least quell the worst of the rebellion.

Second, he worried for Rose’s safety. The Dark Presence had already tried to attack her, and now his brother Mephiles had tried his luck, too. He had killed the offending Dark Presence soldier and had reverted to keeping Rose in close confinement away from anyone who might try to do her harm, but he couldn’t be around all the time, nor could he keep her locked in her chambers forever. At least if he married her, she’d no longer be his prisoner (or she’d at least be a different kind of prisoner, he thought wryly). Others would think twice before hurting the wife of King Shadow.

Finally… Shadow was increasingly struggling to control his lust around her. That was why he’d requested that whore be sent to his chambers last night: he had come so close to sweet Rose – lying beside her on the bed, touching her with his bare fingertips – and it had taken all his self-control to restrain himself. At least once they were married, there would be some legitimacy to his urges. He would no longer be some depraved, dirty dog lusting incessantly after a captive, but a king fulfilling his proper duties towards his wife.

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

“I want to marry her as soon as possible,” Shadow said. “In a few weeks, perhaps. No later than the end of the summer.”

Rouge arched an eyebrow. The Dark Eyes commander saw everything – even his darkest, innermost thoughts.

“Oh my,” she purred. “Impatient, are we?”

An unhappy growl rumbled in Shadow’s throat. “The sooner we are married, the sooner I can put this rebellion to bed.”

“Yes,” Rouge remarked slightly, “I’m sure the rebellion is the only thing you’re eager to put to bed.”

She hopped off the edge of the table.

“Very well,” she said, “I’ll begin making the necessary arrangements. A midsummer wedding should be feasible, so long as we work quickly. How are things going with the girl, anyway?”

“Terribly,” Shadow scowled. “She told me she hated me last night.”

“What did you do this time?”

“She found out the Dark Presence cut the little fox boy’s tail off.”

Rouge winced. “Perhaps that was an extreme measure, in hindsight. What were you even doing seeing the fox boy anyway?”

“She asked me to take her to him. I thought seeing her old friend alive would make her happy.”

He turned away, flattening his ears to his head.

“I don’t know if she’ll ever come round to the idea of being my wife, Rouge. She looks at me like I’m some kind of monster.”

Rouge frowned and blinked at him sadly. She touched his shoulder over delicately over his cloak.

“Give her time, Shadow,” she said softly. “She’s just lost her family and her freedom; it’s only natural that she’d have some difficulty adjusting to that. Keep trying and be patient with her. She’ll come around, you’ll see.”

Shadow dared to feel some hope in his chest; then he let out a disbelieving scoff. The only thing he could count on in this twisted world was himself.

“That’s reminds me,” he growled. “How is my little gift coming along?”

“All is going according to schedule, my lord. I expect it’ll be with us by the end of the weak.”

“Good.”

Shadow placed his empty coffee cup down on the table and headed towards the door.

“I have things I need to attend to,” he said brusquely. “Have the gift brought to me as soon as you have it.”

Then he left, his heavy red cloak billowing out behind him as he marched.

“As you wish, my lord,” he heard Rouge call out from behind him. Her voice was nothing more than a whisper on the wind.

Shadow did not see Amy as much as he would have liked over the next few weeks. His life was deluged with the many burdens and worries of running a kingdom: dealing with grievances from the people, balancing the books with gold from the royal treasury, interrogating and sometimes executing criminals. Now that he had a royal wedding to plan, he found he barely had any time at all, not even to sleep. It felt like he could seldom take two steps anywhere without some lowly servant pestering him with trivial matrimonial questions.

He was on his way to what he thought was a strategy meeting with the Dark Arms commander, E-123 Omega. He must have made a mistake in his exhaustion, because when he arrived he found himself in a room with some unfamiliar rabbit thrusting fabrics in his face.

“Which would you prefer for your wedding day cloak, my lord?” he pressed. “Green or red?”

Shadow rested his head in his hand wearily. “Whatever you think is best.”

“The red is more in keeping with your house colours, my lord, and would complement your striped fur nicely,” the rabbit prattled on. “But the green is associated with Chaos energy and would send a powerful message while complimenting the eyes of your bride…”

“I don’t care,” Shadow suddenly snapped. “A cloak is a cloak. It makes no difference to me what colour it is.”

“Yes, my lord…” the rabbit said hurriedly.

When he finally had time to visit his bride, he was disappointed at how dispirited she looked. Something he found attractive about her was her unprecedented bravery and optimism, even in the face of death. But ever since she’d agreed to marry him, it was like all the fight in her had simply disappeared. Whenever he entered her bedchamber he’d always find her staring blankly at the ceiling, her jade-green eyes glassy and unfocused. She barely moved when she noticed him.

He took a seat on the edge of her bed. “Rose? Have you been lying here like this all day?”

“There’s nothing else for me to do.”

“Tell me what’s troubling you.”

“You know what is troubling me, my lord.”

Shadow bristled. “I can’t free you, Rose, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Amy finally turned towards him. “I know that,” she whispered, “but you could at least let me wander the castle instead of keeping me locked in this room. I haven’t spoken to anyone in three days, Shadow. Not even the Dark Presence will talk to me – they just hand me my food and leave.”

“I let you wander the castle,” Shadow retorted harshly, “and you showed me why I couldn’t trust you to do that.”

“But I’m losing my mind in here, Shadow,” she pleaded. “You can’t keep me locked away forever.”

“You are to be my wife,” he hissed, “and I will do whatever I need to in order to keep you safe here with me.”

She stared at him for a moment, pure hatred dancing in her beautiful green eyes. Then she rolled on her side with a sigh.

“Never mind,” she muttered. “I knew I couldn’t expect you to listen.”

Shadow clenched and unclenched his fists, frustrated by their negative interaction. He thought that things between them would improve once she accepted his proposal, but Rose felt more distant from him than ever.

He remembered Rouge’s words to him. Keep trying and be patient with her.

He rested his hand stiffly on her foot; she flinched but did not pull away. At least that was progress, he thought.  

“Why don’t I bring you something to keep you occupied?” he tried. “Some paints, perhaps, or a book. Your father said you enjoyed fairy tales as a child. What were your favourites?”

She kept her daze fixed dully on the wall. “I don’t care.”

Shadow sighed and rose to his feet. He knew he would not get anything out of her now.

When he next came to see her he brought her a gift. It was held in his right hand, hidden beneath a blanket. She was looking dejected as usual when he entered her bedchamber, so he was glad when he noticed her ears prick with interest at the sight of it.

“I’ve brought something for you,” he murmured.

She gazed at it warily. “What is it?”

He removed the blanket. Underneath was a beautiful bird inside a golden cage. Its feathers were a vibrant shade of blue; its glossy cobalt plumage shimmered like sapphires as it plucked and preened at itself.

“A Flicky bird,” he explained, “from the rainforests of the Mystic Ruins. I had my men capture it for you.”

Rose pressed her finger through the bars of the cage, stroking the bird with wonder. Shadow was pleased that she seemed to like her gift, until she turned away with a disinterested expression.

“Another creature stolen from her home and imprisoned in a gilded cage,” she murmured.

Shadow frowned. “You said you wanted company – I thought you would appreciate a companion…”

“Yes,” Amy said with an edge to her voice, “but she deserves to be flying freely in the rainforest where she belongs, not stuck in a tiny cage because of you.”

Shadow took the bird away. Later, when he was sitting alone in his office, he took it out of its cage and gazed at it thoughtfully. It hopped on his desk for a few moments before perching on his finger, its tiny talons clinging to him with a trust he did not deserve.

He was overcome with the urge to wring its neck. This stupid bird had made him offend Rose.

After significant restraint, he marched out onto the castle grounds and tossed the bird up into the air. It flew away until it was no more than a tiny blue speck in the sky before disappearing from sight.

His next gift he was sure she would like, because it was something that had once belonged to her. It was her war hammer: he’d sent the Dark Presence back to the cave where he’d ambushed the Resistance and had them retrieve it for her. He held the weapon in his hands, admiring the carvings on the smooth, brassy metal. It was heavy, much heavier than his own greatsword; he was surprised that someone as delicate as Rose was strong enough to wield it.

This time, she scrambled to her feet when she saw him.

“My hammer!” she cried, rushing to his side.

He watched her as she took the hammer deftly into her hands, tightening her fingers around its hilt. A strange pleasant sensation washed over him as he noticed the look of joy cross her face. It pleased him to see her so happy, and he found he wanted to make her feel that way again and again.

Her eyes flicked up to him, a silent calculation playing out in her mind. Shadow bared his fangs and pulled back his cloak so she could see the steel greatsword hanging from his belt.

“Don’t even think about it,” he told her in a dangerous growl.

She abandoned the idea and turned away from him, swinging her hammer in the air at some imaginary opponent. He watched her for a moment, admiring her form as she wielded a weapon almost as large as she was. He took in the muscles rippling under her arms as she stepped and pirouetted with the hammer, her tail moving as she balanced herself. His little rose was as beautiful as she was deadly.

He came up behind her. “You’re talented with that hammer,” he breathed in her ear. “You would be a formidable foe with some proper training. We could spar together, if you like.”

It was like throwing water over a flame. The joy in her eyes died; the dull, impassive expression on her face returned. She balanced the hammer neatly against the wall before climbing back into bed.

“No thank you,” she said flatly.

Shadow thought about it as he lay in in his chambers later that night, staring up at the canopy of his bed. Rose had become something of a puzzle to him, and trying to charm her was as addictive as it was frustrating. They were locked in this strange game of cat and mouse, where she always lingered just outside his reach. Just when it seemed like he was finally turning a corner with her, he would say something or do something she didn’t like; and then he’d be back in the same place he started, still wondering how to win her over.

It was unnatural to someone who was used to taking what he wanted by force. Yet it only made him want her more.

It was dark and Amy was just preparing for bed when there was a knock at her door. She tilted her head to the side, curious. She hadn’t had visitors this late before.

It was a Dark Presence warrior.

“King Shadow has requested your presence in the castle grounds,” he said once they had exchanged the customary greetings. “He asks that you join him for an evening stroll.”

Amy hesitated. She thought about refusing him, but she had been locked inside her bedchamber for days now and the opportunity to have a change of scenery was too enticing to ignore.

“One moment,” she mumbled. “Let me just get my cloak…”

She pulled on her boots and wrapped her burgundy cloak around her shoulders, fastening it with a pin in the shape of King Shadow’s emblem. After a moment’s pause, she decided to bring her war hammer, too. She felt safer with the hammer hanging from her belt.

The Dark Presence soldier escorted her to the grounds. As soon as Amy stepped outside, she felt her mood lift dramatically. The warm, midsummer night breeze kissed her muzzle, heavy with the sweet scent of flowers from the gardens. The grounds stretched before her, vast and inviting, its blue-green grasses stirring beneath the dark starry sky. The neat, well-kept hedges and flower beds gave way to lavender fields in the far distance. Thousands of fireflies danced amongst the shrubbery, their warm golden light like thousands of tiny suns.

King Shadow was waiting for her. His fur looked blue-black and velvety in the starlight, like the night sky was trapped within his pelt. He gave a nod and the Dark Presence soldier disappeared. In spite of the warm evening, Amy shivered.

He took Amy in with barely disguised longing. Then his expression hardened. He moved towards her with purpose; Amy took a step backwards but Shadow grabbed her wrist so that she could not move. His other hand slipped under her cloak and closed around the hilt of her war hammer.

His red eyes narrowed. “Expecting a battle tonight, are we?”

She tore her wrist away and returned the glare. “You tell me,” she retorted. “You’re the one who said I can’t leave my bedchamber because it isn’t safe.”

“It isn’t,” he snarled. “Twice I’ve saved you now, little rose – first from that Dark Presence warrior, then from Mephiles. I won’t risk my bride’s life and virtue a third time.”

“I didn’t have my hammer with me then,” Amy argued. “Now I have it back, I can defend myself. You told me yourself that I’m talented with my hammer.”

A warning growl rumbled in his throat. “We’ve spoken about this already, Rose. There is nothing more to discuss.”

He began to walk away – but Amy swung her hammer directly in his path. Shadow leapt out of the way, startled; the blow landed mere inches away from him, so hard that it carved a crater in the garden path. Amy couldn’t help but smirk at his stunned reaction.

She lifted her hammer again, an unspoken challenge in her eyes. She was learning more and more about Shadow the longer she spent around him – and one thing she had discovered was his deep, unrelenting desire to dominate.

Now if I can just use it to my advantage…  

She swung. As expected, Shadow took the bait and unsheathed his sword, parrying her attack in a flash of silver steel. Before he could retaliate Amy began raining blows down onto him, hoping that the sheer weight of her hammer would cut through his defences. But Shadow evaded or parried every one of her attacks, his sheer speed and strength evident in his movements. Amy was like a berserker, her attacks powerful if ungainly but Shadow was like a dancer, elegant and precise.

She lifted her hammer again – but she took a split-second too long and before she knew it Shadow was behind her, his sword pressed to her throat. Amy could tell he was pleased. The only thing Shadow liked more than a challenge was dominating the challenger.

“How’s that?” she panted.

“Not bad,” he breathed in her ear, “for a little village girl.”

“So you admit that I’m capable of defending myself?”

“You’re standing here with my blade against your throat, little rose, and you expect me to believe you’re capable of defending yourself?”

“That’s different,” Amy said coaxingly. “Everyone knows that you’re far stronger than most warriors.”

Amy thought Shadow would see through her obvious flattery, but instead an approving growl rumbled in his throat. Good: her plan was working. Maybe now he’d be a little more amenable to her demands.

“So will you let me out of my bedchamber now?”

He hesitated. Then he removed the blade from her throat and sheathed his sword.

“No,” he said flatly.

Disappointment filled her.

“Please, my lord,” she urged, taking hold of his wrist. “I appreciate you’ve been trying to entertain me. but books and Flicky birds are no replacement for the sun on my face, for meaningful conversations with others. Even the strongest rose will wilt without sun and rain.”

He fixed her with a cold red stare. “Even if you could defend yourself,” he said harshly, “I won’t risk you running away from me. You’re mine, Rose.”

She swallowed and met his gaze nervously. “I know I broke your trust before,” she admitted. “But things have changed. I’m promised to you now.”

She knew she would need to sweeten the deal. Taking a deep breath, Amy let her hands find his. She found his touch simultaneously thrilling and revolting.

He, too, seemed surprised at the unfamiliar contact.

“I know I’ve been difficult lately,” Amy said. “But if you give me free rein of the castle then I promise I’ll be more… amenable to you.”

It was the most valuable thing she could offer him: her heart.

He hesitated. Some dark, yearning desire danced in his eyes for a moment. Then his gaze hardened.

“I’ll think about it,” he said finally, “on the condition that you promise to spar with me. You have a natural gift with your war hammer, but you lack the grace and technique acquired through proper training. Improve your combat skills, and I may feel more comfortable letting you out of your quarters.”

Amy knew this was likely the best she would get from him.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Thank you, my lord.”

He nodded, then held his arm out.

“Now walk with me,” he commanded. “There’s something I wanted to show you.”

Amy took his arm obediently. She could feel the muscles taut beneath his pelt; even if she’d never fought him before she would have known this was his sword arm.

They strolled through the grounds. Eventually, Shadow stopped in a secluded courtyard. It was very neat, with hedges immaculately trimmed into elaborate shapes; yet Amy found herself drawn to the wild roses that sprouted defiantly from between the moss-covered rocks, their petals ghostly pale in the moonlight. In the background she could hear water burbling soothingly from the fountain in the centre of the courtyard.

Shadow turned to her, his red eyes suddenly very serious. Then he presented her with a small box.

Amy’s breath caught in her throat. Inside the box was a glittering emerald ring. The emerald was flanked by diamonds on either side, and the band was solid gold.

He cupped her face with his hand. “Even if this is an arranged marriage, I still wanted to follow the tradition of proposing.”

Amy swallowed, astounded by the beauty of the ring and the unexpected thoughtfulness of Shadow’s actions. The ring alone was probably worth more than her father’s cottage and everything in it.

“My lord…”

“Call me Shadow,” he murmured. “If you are to be my wife, it’s only right that you call me by my name.”

“Shadow,” she said, “this ring is… it’s beautiful.”

“It was made for you, Rose.”

He lifted her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly. She gazed at it in bewilderment, feeling like she was looking at the hand of some other woman and not her own. The reality of what she had agreed to do was beginning to sink in; the ink of the shadowy marital contract she had signed was starting to dry.

And yet… Amy couldn’t bring herself to feel pessimistic about the prospect. She had always dreamt of a fairytale proposal like this, and she could not deny that Shadow was very handsome. Later, she would tell herself that it was being out in the fresh air after so many days locked inside that had made her feel this way; that it was her proximity to a male of her own species and not some specific attraction to Shadow himself.

Shadow leaned over her, brushing his cheek against hers. Amy could practically smell the desire rolling off him in waves.

“I want to kiss you, Rose,” he breathed huskily into her ear.

It was a statement, but Amy knew it was the closest Shadow would get to asking permission for anything.

She wavered. If you are going to have his baby, then you may as well get used to kissing him now, she reasoned.

“Okay,” she whispered.

He tilted her head up to meet his lips – he was so much bigger than her – and suddenly she was kissing King Shadow, the black hedgehog she had never imagined touching in any way other than violently. Just like him, his touch was cruel, dominating; his tongue demanded entrance to her mouth, his fangs scraped her bottom lip. She acquiesced, parting her lips a little; and a low growl rumbled in the back of his throat as he took even more from her, his hunger seeming to grow rather than lessen.

The black hedgehog gripped her hips and crushed her body against his until her feet were nearly lifted off the ground. His other hand found their way into her quills, pulling them roughly back until her neck was exposed to him; then his fangs grazed across her neck, making her moan softly. That small sound seemed to drive him into a frenzy and he bit down on her with his fangs as if to hold her in place while his hands slipped under her cloak…

The sudden sharp pain was enough to bring her to her senses.

“Shadow,” she gasped, trying to pull away.

His eyes flicked up; he looked annoyed at the interruption. “Hm?”

She placed a hand on the white fur of his chest to put some distance between them. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why?” he murmured into her neck. “We are going to be married soon anyway.”

“We aren’t married yet.”

“I would never take your honour and then refuse to marry you, little rose, if that’s what you are afraid of.”

“That’s not…” Amy tried to steady her breathing. “I just don’t feel comfortable,” she told him finally. “Not yet.”

He stared at her for a moment – then the fog seemed to lift. He looked away and ran a hand through his quills. Amy thought that he looked a little ashamed of himself.

“Yes,” he said. “You’re right.”

He led her back to the castle. It felt awkward; whatever strange magic had fallen upon them was gone. Shadow seemed lost in his thoughts. His face was stony, as if he were angry about something, though it did not seem to be directed at her.

The Dark Presence warrior was back, waiting to escort her back to her bedchamber. Before she left, Shadow cupped her face in his hands.

“I will think about your request and give you my answer tomorrow,” he told her softly. “Goodnight, Rose.”

He pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. Then the Dark Presence soldier led her away.

When she was back in her quarters, she changed into her nightclothes and cleaned her teeth. Yet the taste of Shadow still lingered on her tongue.

Chapter Text

True to his word, Shadow allowed Amy to walk the castle. The caveat was that she had to be accompanied at all times by a Dark Presence warrior, a female echidna called Misty-Re. At first Amy had been excited at the prospect of a companion, and had tried hard to make friends with her. Then, when it became clear that Misty-Re would not speak to her, Amy began to feel irritated at the shadow always lurking a few paces behind. Eventually, she became so accustomed to the Dark Warrior’s presence that she forgot the echidna was even there.

Now that Amy had free reign over her surroundings, she began to notice all of the wedding preparations taking place. It seemed that every time she turned a corner she would find hundreds of servants running around, carrying bunches of flowers or bundles of silk. The most striking change was the abundance of red roses now decorating the castle. The roses filled every vase and snaked around every pillar. Amy hated them: their great, imposing heads seemed to throb in the midsummer heat;  their crimson red petals were as stark as blood against the more muted colours of the castle. They were nothing like the sweet wild roses Amy saw growing in the courtyard.

The servants would often talk about her when they thought she couldn’t hear them. Voices became hushed when they saw Amy approach; conversations ceased when she entered the room. One time she stumbled across a group of maids who had not seen her and so she pressed herself against the wall and listened, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Oh, I’m so pleased she’s a hedgehog. It’ll be lovely to have a little bouncing baby in the castle.”

“She isn’t a princess or noble like we thought, you know – she’s just a common village girl! My aunt knows someone who knows someone who lives in the village she grew up in.”

“I suppose King Shadow must have fallen in love with her beauty and not her status. Everyone talks about how pretty she is, but she looks pretty ordinary if you ask me.”

“Surely not! King Shadow is so practical and disciplined. I can’t imagine him throwing away the chance to build an alliance with another kingdom because his head’s been turned by a pretty face.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised…”

The voices fell to a whisper. Amy strained her triangular ears forward, trying to catch snatches of their conversation.

“My friend works in one of the brothels controlled by Rouge – you know, the commander of the Dark Eyes. Don’t tell anyone, but she said that Shadow has sent for her many times. He is most certainly not as disciplined as you might think.”

“Really? My word!” Then, after a short pause: “I wonder what it’s like, laying with King Shadow.”

“Apparently he’s very rough and dominating. He…”

Their exchange halted abruptly – they had noticed Amy’s presence. Sheepishly, Amy stepped into full view and smiled, trying to look friendly. She wanted to join their conversation – she knew as little about King Shadow as they did and besides, she was so desperately lonely. Neither the Dark Presence nor the servants would talk to her, and Tails had made it clear during their encounter that he had no interest in her friendship. Her only friend in this place seemed to be King Shadow himself – a depressing thought. She wondered if he had deliberately isolated her in an attempt to force her closer to him.

“My lady,” the servants said quickly, averting their gazes.

“What were you talking about?” Amy asked politely.

“Nothing of interest, my lady,” one replied with cool indifference, while the other hurriedly stammered, “Sorry, we’ll be getting back to our work now.”

And then Amy realised – the servants would never be friends with her. They were afraid of King Shadow and therefore were afraid of her. After all, who would want to risk King Shadow’s wrath by making some misstep with the bride he was so fiercely protective over? Who would want to risk offending the hedgehog who would someday be their queen?

She didn’t want to make them uncomfortable, so she simply nodded and carried on her way. But inside, she couldn’t help her feeling of disappointment. This was her life now – opulent yet solitary, and forever marked by Shadow’s possessive grasp over her.

She wondered if she would ever grow used to it.

Dear King Shadow,  

Her royal majesty Princess Blaze the Cat regrets to inform you that she will be declining the invite to your impending nuptials.  

The Sol Empire

Shadow stared at the letter for a moment before crumpling it in anger.

He had invited Blaze, Princess of the Sol Dimension, to his royal wedding with Rose; Rouge had made him do it, claiming that good diplomatic relations with other countries would strengthen his rule. Yet the response he had received from her did anything but. The letter was cordial enough, but Shadow was well-versed enough in politics to read between the lines: Blaze’s refusal to attend the wedding was a serious snub. She had made it clear the Sol Empire was no ally to Shadow.

“Something bothering you, handsome?” Rouge’s sultry voice called from across the room.

Shadow tossed the letter in the fire. “Princess Blaze of the Sol Empire has declined her invitation to my wedding.”

Rouge sounded less concerned than he was. “Can you blame her?” she shrugged. “Princess Blaze was good friends with Prince Sonic, back before he disappeared. It’s hardly a surprise she doesn’t support the authoritarian rule of the hedgehog she believes has usurped his throne.”

Shadow gave a hiss of frustration. “I may be king, but my claim to the throne is precarious and there are still those who pray for Sonic’s return – in spite of our efforts to stamp out dissent. I need to entrench my reign as soon as possible, but I can’t do that without the support of the other kingdoms.”

“Don’t worry,” Rouge said silkily, “we’ll entrench your rule. They might not come to your wedding but once your heir is born and you establish a line of succession, they’ll come around.”

“Let us hope they do,” Shadow said darkly. “If the other kingdoms are not with us then they are against us, and I will show my enemies no mercy.”

“Speaking of your enemies…” Rouge met his gaze solemnly. “While the people are excited for the royal wedding, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that the event poses a significant security risk. In particular, the wedding will be a prime target for the Resistance. They will look to kill you or kidnap Amy Rose or both.”

The thought of someone taking Rose away from him filled him with a mixture of dread and fury.

Rose was his. He would kill anyone who dared take her away from him.

“Station Dark Presence marksmen at every corner,” he commanded. “The Resistance will be expecting to meet my ground forces but not the assassins I have hidden away in the shadows. Rose’s safety must be the utmost priority.”

“Already done, my lord.”

Rouge was right: there was a tangible atmosphere of excitement about the castle. The only person who didn’t seem to be excited was Mephiles. One evening he caught his brother lurking balefully in the shadows, watching the preparations unfold with obvious distaste. He curled his lip into a sneer when he saw Shadow approach.

“Well, if it isn’t my beloved brother come to gloat about his impending nuptials,” he hissed. “My apologies if I don’t leap for joy at the prospect of being pushed further down the line of succession.”

“My child will be your own flesh and blood,” Shadow snarled in response. “Does family mean nothing to you?”

“Our family died when Maria did,” Mephiles spat.

He shoved forcefully past Shadow and slunk away. His Dark Presence guards unsheathed their swords – Mephiles had touched the king, and at Shadow’s command they would willingly put a sword through his heart – but Shadow simply gritted his teeth and turned away.

“Let him go,” Shadow commanded reluctantly; the Dark Presence sheathed their swords, looking slightly disappointed.

Shadow took himself to the castle grounds, hoping the cool night air would calm his frustrations with Mephiles. He had tolerated his brother’s indiscretions for the sake of keeping his promise to Maria, but now Rose was around he felt his patience wearing increasingly thin. Mephiles might share his blood, but Rose would soon be his family by marriage and he hoped that before long she would bear his child. In a conflict, what would he choose: his promise to honour Maria’s dying wishes, or the safety of his wife and heir? His honour told him that a promise ought never to be broken, yet the prospect of losing someone he loved – again – felt almost too much to bear.

He gazed up at the stars. There had been no stars during the reign of the Eggman Empire; they had disappeared under a thick veil of smog and light pollution. Shadow was grateful to see them again now.

He said a silent prayer to his sister.

I am trying to do the right thing, Maria. I hope you are proud of me.  

He was pleased when it was finally time for his sparring lesson with Rose. He waited for her in the courtyard where he had given the engagement ring to her some weeks prior. It was a hot summer’s day, but the shaded cobblestone floor of the courtyard was refreshingly cool – perfect for some vigorous exercise.

Rose eventually appeared with Misty-Re, the Dark Presence warrior he had instructed to accompany her at all times. Shadow nodded at Misty-Re and the Dark Presence warrior disappeared. There was no need for the Dark Presence, not now Shadow was here to protect her.

Rose acknowledged him with a small nod.

“Shadow,” she said.

It was only a greeting yet Shadow couldn’t ignore how sweet his name sounded on Rose’s lips; it was far more intimate than King Shadow or my lord. He considered how much sweeter his name would sound with her moaning it.

He quickly pushed the perverted thought from his mind.

In truth, he had been finding it particularly difficult to contain his desire for her ever since their kiss the other night. He had thought having a taste of her would curb his lust, but it had only made him want her more. Her lips had felt even better than he’d imagined and he had been driven half-mad with his need to know and claim every other part of her, too. Above all, Shadow had not missed the small moan that had escaped Rose’s lips as he’d grazed his fangs across her neck. The sound was delicious, like sticky honey on his fingers. It told him that, in spite of all the hate and resistance Rose had shown him, there was a small part of her that wanted him too. And Shadow was determined to do everything in his power to nurture that feeling.

For now, Shadow simply returned the greeting.

“Rose,” he rumbled, “it’s good to see you.”

It was time to begin their training. Shadow appraised her thoughtfully, taking in the delicate frame that lingered beneath her cotton shirt and breeches, forcing himself to consider her body in a purely practical rather than lustful way. She would be smaller than many of her opponents, but her arms were strong and her size would make her harder to hit.

“Show me your fighting stance,” he commanded her.

Rose took her heavy war hammer in her hands and moved into a crouch. Shadow circled her, correcting her posture with the flat part of his sword.

“Open your legs,” he murmured. “You need to spread your weight more evenly, otherwise you’ll be knocked off balance.”

“Okay,” Rose mumbled, shifting her feet further apart.

Shadow looked over her approvingly. Then he unsheathed his sword.

“Attack me.”

Rose eyed him warily, biting her lip. Her gaze settled on a point near his shoulder. Then she drew her war hammer back and swung it towards him.

Shadow deflected it easily. Her war hammer slipped out of her grasp and landed with a heavy thud on the ground.

She glanced up at him, looking frustrated.

“You need to put all your weight into the swing,” Shadow explained gently. “A hammer is slower and heavier than a sword; any swordsman will find it easy to react to your attacks. But a hammer will always be more powerful. And with enough power, you should be able to break through their defences even if they do parry your blow. Try again.”

Shadow gripped his greatsword in both hands, waiting for her attack. Rose seemed to think for a moment. Then she pirouetted, using her full body to bring momentum to her hammer swing.

“Hah!”

This time, she managed to knock Shadow’s sword out of the way. But he swiftly sidestepped her blow before shoving into her hard with his shoulder. Rose gave a small cry as he knocked her to the ground.

“Hey!” she protested, flattening her ears. “That’s not fair! You didn’t warn me you’d be attacking me back.”

Shadow narrowed his eyes. “If you didn’t want to be knocked off balance then perhaps you should have kept your legs further apart like I told you.”

Rose scowled at him. He had seen Rose angry before, but this time there was no hate in her eyes when she looked at him – just mild irritation with a small glimmer of determination. Shadow found it somewhat endearing.

They sparred for a while longer. Rose was a quick learner, Shadow thought with some admiration, and before long she was battling him with the same ferocity he would have expected from a novice Dark Arms warrior. The courtyard echoed with the clashing of steel as Shadow parried the blows she was now raining down upon him.

“Harder,” Shadow urged her between strikes. “Faster.”

Rose gave a piercing cry and swung at Shadow with breathtaking force. Shadow’s sword was knocked out of his hand; he whipped around, startled, as it clattered uselessly on the ground.

He looked back at Rose. Her green eyes were gleaming and there was a small smile on her muzzle.

Fury that she had bested him quickly gave way to pride. His bride had disarmed him in battle; he had taught her how.

He picked up his sword and slid it back in its sheath.

“That’s enough training for now. Come.”

He led Rose up one of the towers in the courtyard and through to a small balcony area, where his servants were already busy laying out refreshments for them. Rose took a seat at the table there and immediately helped herself to one of the golden lemon cakes laid out on a plate. Shadow observed her, pleased – one thing he’d learned about Rose was that she liked sweet things, so he’d asked his servants to prepare the lemon cakes for her especially. Rose was like a puzzle: he’d learn some things here, make some mistakes there. Shadow was determined to know and possess every part of her.

He turned away and gazed over his kingdom from his seat on the balcony. This balcony overlooked the grounds. The rolling green landscape was already yellowing from the sun and in the distance the lavender fields stirred in the warm breeze.

“I’m pleased with the progress you made during training today,” Shadow growled at her. “Your father taught you well.”

Rose blinked at him in surprise. “It was my mother who taught me how to wield my hammer,” she said. “It was her hammer to begin with.”

This surprised Shadow. He didn’t think battle training was the sort of thing mothers taught their children but then again, he’d never had a mother so he wouldn’t know. Now he looked at the hammer, he noticed it had a distinctly feminine design to it: it was a pretty brass colour and the blocky edge of the hammer was engraved with an ornate rose-and-thorns design. 

He brushed a quill out of her face. “What else did you like to do growing up?” he murmured.

Rose wrung her hands; it was clear she was uncomfortable at his touch.

“Well,” she began, “I liked gardening. I love flowers – Mother and I use to plant all sorts of flowers in the garden. She named me after her favourite, the rose. Of course, all that stopped when Doctor Eggman took over. It seemed a waste to grow flowers in the midst of a famine when we could use the garden to grow food.”

“Mm,” Shadow hummed thoughtfully. “What else?”

“I liked baking, too. Mother and I would bake all sorts of sweet things – lemon cakes, strawberry tarts, apple pies made with fruit picked from the garden. That stopped with the Eggman Empire, too. Sugar became scarce and we couldn’t afford the butter anymore. Then mother died, and I haven’t baked since.”

Shadow’s heart twisted in pity. He was reminded that he was not the only one who had suffered at the hands of that bastard Doctor Eggman – others, like Rose, had lost loved ones too. He felt a sudden surge of protectiveness; irrespective of what had happened before, Rose was his and nobody would harm her ever again.

He leant forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “When we are married, I’ll have my servants plant a thousand flowers across the grounds for you.”

He expected Rose to look pleased at his words, but she simply frowned.

She pulled her gaze away to the horizon. “There was one thing I never stopped doing,” she admitted, “and that was reading. I adored fairy tales as a child: I loved reading about the battle of good against evil; I liked seeing the heroine fall in love with the handsome prince. When Doctor Eggman took over, I read them even more. They reminded me that there was still hope, even when it felt like all was lost.”

She cast a sidelong glance at Shadow, and there was a rare spark of mirth in her green eyes.

“Of course,” she added, “I never thought I’d end up marrying the handsome prince myself.”

Shadow’s heart flipped in his chest. This was the first time Rose had shown him any emotion other than fear, loathing or plain indifference. And for a brief moment he was shown a glimpse of what his life might be like if she allowed herself to open up to him – to truly become his, not just in marriage but in heart and soul too. He saw a vision of them standing side by side, ruling his empire as king and queen, her hand in his and their child at their feet.

He was overwhelmed with longing. He had not loved anyone since Maria but he wanted to love again. He wanted it so badly.

“And what about you?” Rose said. “What did you like to do as a child?”

Shadow was caught off-guard by her unexpected question. He was surprised she was actually taking an interest in him.

“Well,” he said uncertainly, “I suppose I liked to play pretend games.”

“Pretend games?”

Shadow nodded. “We used to play together in our cottage and in the woods outside. We’d somehow create the most elaborate worlds – noble houses fighting wars, overcoming betrayals and forging alliances. Entire kingdoms would rise and fall, all from the walls of our cottage.”

He couldn’t help but give a small smile at the memory. Maria would always play as the beautiful princess, and Shadow would be her loyal knight tasked with protecting her. He could still see her golden fur shimmering in dapples of sunlight, her blue dress caked with dirt from the forest floor. In his memory she halted suddenly, pointed a trembling finger at some imaginary monster they couldn’t see but which was real to them. ‘Sir Lancelot, our path is blocked by some terrible beast!’ 

And then Shadow would jump protectively before her, holding a tree branch out like a sword. ‘Have no fear, my lady. I’ll protect you!’ 

Rose’s voice snapped him back into the present.

“You and Mephiles?” she asked. 

The memory shifted and changed. Suddenly he was holding Maria, and his vision was blurry with tears but even he could see the dark blood pooling rapidly on her blue dress, and he knew then that there was no hope of saving her. And she knew it too and yet she remained so calm, so kind until the very end, her hands squeezing his with increasing feebleness as the life slipped from her body. ‘Promise me, Shadow.’

Shadow’s gaze hardened.

“No,” he said coldly.

He rose to his feet, his wrought-iron chair scraping against the stone balcony floor. He needed to leave. He couldn’t think about Maria – not here.

Rose tilted her head to the side, confusion glimmering in her jade-green eyes. “Where are you going?”

And there she was again, showing interest in him and his whereabouts. Shadow was no fool – he knew she was only interested in his company because he was the only one in this castle who would talk to her – but for a moment he allowed himself to believe that she genuinely wanted his company.

He rested his hand on the back of her head and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I have some other matters to attend to,” he murmured. “I’ll be with you again soon, little rose.”

“Okay,” Rose whispered. “Goodbye, then.”

Shadow returned to the castle, leaving the pink hedgehog sitting on the balcony. Misty-Re was waiting inside; with a flick of his ear, he wordlessly commanded her to return to her duty of guarding Rose. He had failed to protect Maria. He would not let something like that happen again.

He gave one final glance over his shoulder. Rose was still sitting on the balcony, her dainty silhouette perfect and poised.

The next time he saw her, it would be as husband and wife.

On the day of the wedding, Amy woke with a feeling of dread in her stomach.

Today was the day. She would say the words that would make her Shadow’s forever, and there would be no turning back after that. Tonight, he would expect her to fulfil the marital rites that would give him an heir.

She felt strangely distant as the servants brushed through her quills and dabbed rouge onto her cheeks. It was as if she were a ghost looking down from above, watching some other woman prepare for the wedding instead of her. The servants helped her into her dress; it was white, with lace sleeves embroidered into the shape of roses and briars. She knew she would be far too hot in it.

“My lady,” a servant said warmly, “you look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Amy said absentmindedly. Even her voice did not sound like her own.

The feeling remained as she entered the grand room in which her marriage was taking place. It was elaborate hall, with a great stained glass window depicting what Amy recognised as the seven Chaos Emeralds. Red roses decorated the aisle, their oversweet, cloying scent enough to make Amy dizzy. She noticed the thorns poking threateningly from the stems like teeth.

The nobles that made up Shadow’s court, stood on either side of the room, all jostled to catch a glimpse of her; Amy was vaguely aware that they were all strangers to her, witnessing her on what should have been the most important day of her life. She had always thought her father would walk her down the aisle and yet here she was, completely alone in a room full of people, feeling like she was walking to her own execution rather than her wedding.

As she proceeded down the aisle she finally saw King Shadow. The black hedgehog was standing near a priest who looked tiny compared to Shadow’s tall, muscular form. Amy could not suppress the flutter in her stomach at the sight of him; even she had to admit that he looked undeniably handsome, his sharp, cruel features like some fallen angel from her fairytales. His heavy velvet cloak obscured the black royal military jacket he was wearing underneath.

She barely heard the words of the priest as he began the ceremony. All her thoughts were on the duty she would have to perform at the end of the day.

It was time for them to say the words that would bind them together for eternity.

“Do you, King Shadow the Hedgehog, take Amy Rose to be your wife from this day until your last day?”

“I do,” Shadow said. His voice was firm, unwavering.

The priest turned to her.

“Do you, Amy Rose, take King Shadow the Hedgehog to be your husband from this day until your last day?”

Amy swallowed the lump in her throat.

She had promised to marry him but it wasn’t too late to renege on her words now. Her wedding day would become the day of her execution, but it would be over quickly and then she would be free. Once she married him there would be no turning back; she would belong to him entirely and even if she changed her mind and decided she would rather death than life with him, he would allow no harm to come to her. She would be expected to lay with him and carry his seed and pray that the child would not grow to become cruel like his father.

Shadow’s cruel red gaze bored into her. She lifted her own gaze to meet it.

“I do,” she said. Her voice faltered.

“Then in the sight of gods and men I pronounce you King and Queen of the Dark Empire. Long may you reign.”

Shadow took her hand and threaded a golden band through her finger. Then a servant appeared bearing a delicate golden tiara on a velvet cushion. It was wrought in the shape of roses and adorned with diamonds that glittered in a thousand colours under the light. Amy bowed slightly so the servant could place it on her head, between her triangular ears.

She rose to stand before King Shadow – beside her husband. He took her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger and brought her lips to his in a kiss. She expected the kiss to be hungry and dominating, like before, yet it was surprisingly chaste.

It will not be so chaste later, a voice in the back of her head warned.

When he pulled away, he was gazing at her with something that looked like love – if a monster like him was capable of love. He threaded his fingers through hers and let her to the very end of the room, towards a great set of double doors. Amy did not know what was on the other side of it but she could hear a faint roaring, like wildfire or the sea.

“Are you ready to greet your people as queen?” Shadow murmured in her ear.

A pair of servants opened the double doors – and Amy was immediately blinded by the stifling heat and harsh white light of the summer sun outside. They were on a balcony facing the city, and below them were thousands and thousands of people. Her people.

Their cheers rose to a crescendo when they caught sight of their king and queen. They reached eagerly towards her or waved flags bearing Shadow’s emblem. Amy was surprised – she did not think King Shadow was that popular – until she realised they were calling her name.

“Amy Rose!”

“Queen Rose!”

“Long live the queen!”

She lifted her hand in an uncertain wave, feeling simultaneously flattered and bewildered. These people did not even know her and yet they seemed to adore her.

Shadow had noticed it too. He bent his head towards her ear.

“Do you see that?” he murmured. “They adore you, little rose.”

A shadow passed over their heads. Amy glanced up to see that Rouge had landed beside them on the balcony.

Rouge raised her voice above the clamour. “This day marks the union between King Shadow of the Dark Empire and Amy Rose of the Resistance. With it emerges a new era of peace, where the strength and ferocity of man is tempered by the love and gentleness of woman. Together, they will make our country stronger and bring justice to all four corners of our land. Long live King Shadow! Long live Queen Rose!”

The people lifted their voices, singing praises to Amy’s health and longevity. Amy felt a strange twinge of protectiveness over them. Rebel or royal, Amy had a duty to do whatever she could to help them.

I promise to be a good queen to you, she swore silently.

Then Shadow was leading her back inside the palace, and the servants closed the great double doors behind them.

It was done. Amy Rose was now the wife and queen of King Shadow the Hedgehog.

After the ceremony, Amy and Shadow were seated at the high table overlooking the hall for their wedding dinner. Amy picked uninterestedly at the lavish meal, finding that she had little appetite. The feeling of dread she’d woken up with this morning had only grown the closer the day moved to the evening.

After the celebrations, she would have to lay with him. The thought terrified her.

Shadow watched her toy with her dinner, his brow furrowed with concern. He rested a hand on her arm.

“Eat,” he commanded. “I will not have my bride wither away before my eyes.”

Amy frowned at him. There was something muddled about him; his face betrayed genuine concern for her, and yet his words were harsh and commanding. She peered at him, trying to understand how he had become this way; but Shadow’s eyes flashed dangerously, so Amy sighed and ate a small forkful of pheasant. It tasted like ashes in her mouth.

After the servants cleared their dinner things away, their guests spilled out onto the hall floor to drink and mingle. Shadow watched them with his head on his fist, looking bored. But Amy leaned forward excitedly. The Dark Presence and the palace servants might be uninterested in talking to her, but these people were the nobles who made up Shadow’s court. Perhaps they would be friends with her.

“Shadow,” she asked, “may I leave the table to speak to our guests?”

Shadow flicked his red gaze over at her. She noticed him clench and unclench his fist unhappily.

“Stay within my sight,” he eventually growled.

Amy’s ears pricked happily. She rose from the high table and made her way down the hall to the throng of nobles.

As she neared the crowd, however, she found herself feeling unexpectedly shy. She was the queen now; this was her kingdom and these were her people. Yet Amy couldn’t help feeling remarkably out of place amongst the highborn guests. Most of them been noble since birth. Amy had been noble for all of a day.

She hovered awkwardly, sipping her glass of sparkling wine for the sake of having something to do. She was relieved when she saw a female hedgehog coming towards her.

The hedgehog was pink in colour, though unlike Amy’s rosy tones her fur was a very dark shade of pink, almost fuchsia. She was holding the arm of a tall blonde mink who immediately gave off an air of sophistication. There was something familiar about this hedgehog, Amy realised. She felt as though she’d seen the hedgehog somewhere before, though Amy could not think where.

“All hail Shadow,” the hedgehog said in greeting. “It’s lovely to meet you, Queen Rose. My name is Sonia Montclair, and this is my husband, Bartleby.”

Sonia, Amy thought. Sonia!

 Suddenly she realised why this hedgehog seemed so familiar.

“You’re Princess Sonia,” Amy gabbled, “Prince Sonic’s sister.”

Everyone knew the story of Prince Sonic and his siblings; it would have been Amy’s favourite fairy tale growing up, except this story was really true. According to the story, Queen Aleena – the ruler of their country back then – gave birth to three children: Prince Sonic, Prince Manic, and Princess Sonia. But then a soothsayer spoke of a prophecy which foretold that all three children would die unless they were separated, only to be reunited when the time was right.

So Queen Aleena gave up her children, hoping to prevent the prophecy from coming true. Prince Sonia was raised as a lady by a rich, aristocratic family, who taught her all she would need to know to grow into a proper princess. Prince Manic was supposed to be raised by a rich family, too, but he was stolen away as a baby by thieves and raised in the dark underworld of the city. Prince Sonic was raised by a family in a kingdom far away; he became loved by the people, who were drawn to his easy, unpretentious demeanour.

Sonic was gone, but now his own sister was standing before Amy. Somehow, she had found her way into the court of the hedgehog who had usurped her brother’s throne.

Sonia and her husband exchanged an uncomfortable look.

“That’s right,” Sonia said awkwardly, “although I renounced my claim to the throne when I pledged my loyalty to King Shadow. King Shadow is the rightful ruler of our country now.”

Amy tilted her head the side. Sonia’s words were so alien – so against everything that Amy stood for – that she couldn’t help but gawp at Sonia in disbelief.

Sonia was Sonic’s sister. Surely she of all people should be working with the Resistance trying to find her missing brother, not cosying up to her tyrannical overlord. Even if Sonic couldn’t be found, that would mean the throne would pass to Sonia. Didn’t she want to serve her people as their rightful princess? Didn’t she want to save them from the cruelty of King Shadow?

But Amy remembered the rumours that had swirled around, shortly after the rise of the Eggman Empire. There were whispers that Princess Sonia and her aristocratic husband had allied themselves to Doctor Eggman, content to betray their own kind to preserve their wealth and status. Then, when it became apparent that Shadow was on the verge of defeating Eggman and taking over the country, they abandoned Eggman and poured their wealth and resources into supporting what they believed to be the winning side. Evidently, it was a decision that had paid off: Bartleby Montclair was apparently one of King Shadow’s biggest donors and had an influential place at his court.

“My lady, I…” Amy struggled to find the words to express her shock. “How could you abandon Prince Sonic to support King Shadow like this?”

Her husband gave a disapproving sniff and put his arm protectively around Sonia’s waist. Sonia stared at Amy; her gaze was sad, not angry.

“It’s funny,” Sonia remarked quietly. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Sonia and Bartleby Montclair disappeared into the crowd of guests. Amy watched them go, a heavy feeling in her chest. Her father had told her to survive, to continue fighting her war from the inside. Yet it didn’t feel like she was still fighting for what she believed in, somehow. It felt like she had given up.

She tried to speak to the other guests; they responded politely but otherwise kept their distance.  She was experiencing the same problem she’d had when trying to befriend the servants, Amy thought in frustration. Nobody wanted to be too close to her because they were afraid of King Shadow.

She was just lamenting her situation when suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was a skunk.

He was looking at her imploringly.

“My lady,” he hissed in her ear, “come with me.”

Amy’s heart leapt.

The Resistance. They hadn’t forgotten her after all.

She was about to follow the skunk when she felt another hand snake around her shoulders.

She glanced up and felt her heart sink to her stomach. It was Shadow.

The black hedgehog towered over the skunk, gazing down at him with an expression so murderous it made Amy shiver.

“Just where,” he said in a dangerously low growl, “do you think you are taking my wife?”

The skunk glanced fearfully up at Shadow; his throat bobbed as he swallowed. Shadow’s hand moved to his sword. Amy noticed that a hush had fallen on the room; the guests seemed to be watching the interaction unfold with a nervous stillness. Amy was acutely aware that she was mere heartbeats away from witnessing this skunk’s death.

“I said,” Shadow snarled, “where do you think you are taking my wife?” 

Shadow began to unsheathe his sword – Amy squeezed his arm, wordlessly begging him not to hurt the skunk – the skunk took a tentative step back…

Suddenly, a pretty redhead glided over to them.

“I see you’ve met my queen’s guard, Geoffrey St. John,” she said smoothly. “I’d asked him to fetch Queen Rose for me. I hope I haven’t caused any problems.”

Amy stared curiously at the Mobian. She must have been a squirrel, Amy thought, or perhaps a chipmunk. Whatever she was, it was clear that she was not from their country: she was wearing a pretty yet unorthodox gold circlet and an exotic dress the same shade of blue as her eyes.

“I thought us girls might have a little talk, queen-to-queen,” she added. She tilted her head up in a playful challenge. “You wouldn’t deny me that, would you, my lord?”

The entire room seemed to hold their breath, waiting for King Shadow’s reaction.

Shadow narrowed his eyes. Then, to Amy’s utter relief, his lips twitched upwards in a smile.

“You know I wouldn’t deny anything to you, Princess Sally,” he purred.

The danger had passed. The guests began to talk amongst themselves again.

“I’m so glad you agree,” she responded smoothly. “Come, Queen Rose, let’s go somewhere we can talk without being interrupted.”

The princess linked her arm through Amy’s and led her out of the hall. Amy cast a nervous glance over her shoulder at Shadow; the black hedgehog looked visibly unhappy, but did not say anything.

They ended up outside, in the castle grounds. Amy allowed herself a moment to close her eyes and savour the cool evening breeze; it had been stiflingly hot indoors, especially in the heavy fabric of her wedding dress, and she was glad to have some fresh air.

When she opened her eyes, she nearly fainted with shock. Her companion had peeled off her dress and was standing fully naked before her.

“That’s better,” Sally sighed in contentment. “That dress was so restrictive. I feel like my fur can breathe again now.”

Amy immediately averted her eyes. “My lady – your clothes –”

Sally turned to her, looking puzzled; then her features smoothed in understanding.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she laughed. “I forgot you are unfamiliar with my customs. I am Sally Acorn, Princess of the Kingdom of Acorn. In the Kingdom of Acorn, women aren’t expected to wear clothes like they are over here. I wore a dress to your wedding so I didn’t offend anyone, but it felt very unnatural to me.”

Amy allowed herself a tentative peek at Sally’s unclothed body. There was nothing inherently sexual about it – it was just a body, and in any case her fur covered her most intimate areas – yet Amy couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable.

“But what about your modesty?” Amy mumbled.

“Modesty?” Sally echoed, raising an eyebrow. “My queen, it’s acceptable for the men in your country to go without clothing, is it not?”

“Well, yes, but –”

“So if it’s acceptable for the men in your country to walk naked without risking their modesty, why is it suddenly a problem when women walk naked? Either clothes are needed to preserve modesty, or they aren’t. Expecting only the women in society to cover up feels awfully unfair, if you ask me.”

Amy thought about it. Sally had a point, she supposed.

She shifted her gaze back to her companion, trying to ignore the peculiarity of Sally’s unclothed body. Eventually, she began to get used to Sally’s nakedness; and instead of thinking about how strange it was that Sally wasn’t wearing any clothes, she started to wonder what kind of species Sally was. Even now she was unclothed, Amy couldn’t quite figure it out. She decided to simply ask.

Sally laughed again. “I’m a squirrel-chipmunk hybrid,” she said. “Of course, I don’t need to ask what you are. Everyone’s been talking about how King Shadow the Hedgehog is marrying another hedgehog.”

“Yes,” Amy said glumly, reminded again of her duties this evening. “I think everyone is hoping I’ll have a baby and give King Shadow an heir.”

Sally cast a sidelong glance at her. “And you aren’t… excited by that possibility?” she said carefully.

Amy said nothing. How was she supposed to explain that she thought her newfound husband was a monster?

Sally watched her with a frown, then pulled her gaze towards the horizon. “I must admit, as the princess of a neighbouring kingdom, I was troubled by the reports I heard of your new king. They said he was cruel, merciless… I had hoped it was mere hearsay, but…”

Amy was surprised when Sally suddenly slipped her hand into Amy’s. She gave a small squeeze.

“It was one of the reasons I wanted to speak to you tonight, Rose,” she said. “I wanted you to know that you have a friend in me. And I thought you might appreciate some advice on ruling a kingdom. My royal lineage can be traced back for hundreds of years, but you only became a queen today, after all.”

Amy blinked in astonishment. Since entering the palace, Amy had been completely alone. The Dark Presence and the palace servants would not speak to her. Not even Tails was interested in her friendship. But now, at last, Amy had found a friend. It gave her hope that perhaps she was not as alone as she thought.

“Thank you,” Amy said, smiling. “That means a great deal to me.”

“Of course,” Sally said, smiling back. “Prince Sonic was a close friend and someone I loved dearly, you know. It’s only right that I do what I can to support his kingdom.”

Amy noticed that Sally had called their country Sonic’s kingdom, not Shadow’s kingdom – but there was no time to dwell on that just now. She was far more interested in the other thing Sally had said.

“You knew Prince Sonic?” she said in amazement.

“I did,” Sally nodded. “We grew up together, in fact. When his mother heard the prophecy predicting her children would die unless she separated them, she sent Prince Sonic to come and live with us in the Kingdom of Acorn. He was the eldest and next in line for the throne, so it made sense she’d want him to live with another royal family and learn how to become a king. My father was delighted when we became friends: having allies in other kingdoms is always good for diplomacy, you see.”

Amy couldn’t believe it. Sonic had always some figure of legend, like the handsome princes from her fairytales – noble and heroic but not quite real. She had come to admire him from afar, and she’d been prepared to risk her life working with the Resistance to find him, but she had never actually met him. And now here she was, sitting with someone who not only knew the blue hedgehog but had spent the better part of her childhood with him.

“What’s he like?” Amy breathed.

Sally closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. “Like everything you’ve ever heard,” she said at last. “He was loved by all, royalty and commoners alike. And he was as free as the wind – something that irked me to begin with, but which I later grew to love and appreciate.”

She gave a small chuckle, her eyes glimmering with some distant memory.

“When we were adolescents we would sneak out of the palace and walk amongst the common people. Sonic would sing and play music in the streets – you should have seen the crowds that formed around him! When they found out it was Prince Sonic performing for them, they’d panic and quickly bend their heads in a bow, but Sonic wouldn’t have any of it – he treated the people no differently to how he treated the royal family.”

Her smile fell a little.

“Before he went missing, he asked me to marry him,” she admitted. “I accepted – I loved him deeply and I was excited to join our kingdoms together. But before we could wed, he disappeared. Some pointed out Sonic’s carefree nature and suggested that perhaps he didn’t want to be a king; perhaps he didn’t want to marry me. But I know Sonic, Rose. I know he would never do something so cowardly.”

Amy held her breath. Then she asked the question she had refused to entertain, even in her own thoughts, until now.

“Sally,” Amy said, “do you think Sonic is dead?”

There was a pause. Sally gazed at the sun; it was sinking below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues of orange and gold.

“No,” she said finally, “and I’ll tell you why.”

She turned to meet Amy’s gaze.

“Sonic isn’t the only person who has disappeared, Rose. Because about six months before he went missing, my father disappeared, too.”

Amy’s ears pricked in alarm. “Your father went missing?”

“Yes,” Sally said. “Perhaps I’m being irrational… but it just seems strange to me. The ruler of my kingdom goes missing. The ruler of your kingdom goes missing. Our kingdoms are weakened. Then Doctor Eggman attacks. It feels like too much of a coincidence. So until I’ve seen my father’s body, I will continue calling myself a princess and not a queen.”

Amy frowned. “The Eggman Empire spread to your kingdom, too?”

“Yes,” Sally sighed, “and all the might of our royal army wasn’t enough to stop him. How are swords supposed to defeat an opponent who is not made of flesh and blood, but steel and wire? How are we supposed to defeat Eggman when every fallen soldier is roboticized and added to his ever-growing army?”

She lashed her tail angrily.

“After we were forced underground, I led a small band of freedom fighters against Doctor Eggman. We did what we could, but the Eggman Empire seemed unstoppable. So you can imagine my relief when I heard that a black hedgehog had defeated him and ended the war.”

“King Shadow,” Amy realised.

“Yes. I thought King Shadow’s coronation would mark the beginning of a hopeful new era for your country… but I soon heard reports that Shadow’s peace came at a terrible cost. Dissenters executed, their families imprisoned…” Sally shook her head. “It was no surprise when my contacts asked me to marry King Shadow to try and soften his brutal regime.”

Amy whipped her head round to face Sally

Now this was interesting. Amy had, of course, been asked to marry Shadow for the same reason. She thought she had been handpicked specially because of her links to the Resistance and because she was a hedgehog. Yet Sally had apparently been asked to marry Shadow years before Shadow even knew of her existence.

“I thought about it,” Sally went on, oblivious. “I still loved Sonic, and I wanted to do what I could to protect his kingdom. And I know I could have subdued Shadow, too. Didn’t you see what happened between us in the hall just now?”

“You mean when you asked Shadow to talk with me privately?” Amy questioned.

Sally nodded. “That was no ordinary conversation, Rose. That was a diplomatic game of chess. I knew Shadow didn’t want to let you out of his sight, but it would have been politically disastrous for him to cause a scene. I am the ruler of a neighbouring kingdom with the hearts of the people and the might of a royal army at my command. Shadow knows that he can’t push me around – he knows that I am more useful as an ally than an enemy. That is why he let you come and talk to me.

“It would have been the same story had I accepted the proposal. Even if we married, my people and army would have remained loyal to me. Shadow would’ve had no choice but to submit to my demands, at least to some extent. He certainly could not have been as possessive as he is with you.”

Then she sighed.

“Not that it matters now, anyway. I turned down his proposal. My heart was still with Sonic and besides, I didn’t want to risk giving Shadow any more power than he already had. So instead the Kingdom of Acorn lives in an uneasy alliance with the Dark Empire, never challenging King Shadow’s rule but always keeping a firm distance between the two countries. I only came today because it would have been a grave insult to King Shadow to decline.”

Sally took Amy’s hands in her own. Their gazes met, blue to green, princess to queen. There was concern and sadness in the princess’ gaze – but hope and kindness, too.

“Tread carefully, Amy Rose,” Sally said. “I can stand up to Shadow because I have a lifetime of diplomacy training and the strength of the Acorn Kingdom in my hands. But you do not. And Shadow – or at least whoever advises Shadow – will be hoping to exploit that.”

Her face hardened in determination.

“Use it to your advantage, Rose. People will assume you are some naïve little village girl and underestimate you. But you aren’t – you are strong and intelligent and most importantly of all, you are willing to fight for what is right.”

Amy’s head was spinning. Only now, after Sally had spelt it out for her, did Amy begin to appreciate the strange new world she was entering – a precarious path of politics and diplomacy, where one false step could mean war. She squeezed Sally’s hands desperately, her eyes wide and pleading.

“But Sally,” she urged, “how do I rule? How am I supposed to know what is right?”

Sally swallowed. “No matter what,” she said, “you must always do what is best for your people. Sometimes that means putting your own feelings and desires aside. Sometimes it means making difficult decisions. But whatever happens, know that I am here for you, Amy Rose. You are an ally to the one true king Sonic, and that makes you an ally to me.”

Sally pulled Amy into an embrace, and the pink hedgehog returned it gratefully, all embarrassment about her friend’s nakedness forgotten.

She wasn’t alone, she realised.

Sally dressed herself and returned to the hall, but Amy lingered in the gardens for a while longer. This was the first time since her attempted escape that she had been out of her bedchamber alone, without Shadow or the Dark Presence accompanying her. Amy found herself craving the solitude.

Yet as the moon rose and the day crept ever closer to her wedding night, Amy felt the hope that had surged in her chest following her conversation with Sally Acorn give way to a growing sensation of dread. There was no escaping it: soon she would have to lay with Shadow. The dread then gave way to panic. As handsome as Shadow was, the thought of him touching her in the most intimate possible way – touching her with the same bloodstained hands that had ripped lives and limbs from her friends – sickened her. The prospect of taking his seed and growing his foul, twisted spawn in her belly like a tumour filled her with complete and utter revulsion.

She couldn’t do it.

She simply couldn’t.

She glanced at the gardens stretching before her. Fear made her desperate.

She could try to escape through the castle grounds. They were vast and she did not know what lay at the end of them – the furthest she could see were the lavender fields in the far distance – but they did not seem to be well-manned. Most of Shadow’s forces were likely inside the castle, protecting the king and his guests. She had seen at least one Dark Presence soldier patrolling the perimeter but he was gone now. If she was quick, she could make good ground before he returned.

King Shadow would be furious, of course. Amy would be breaking the fragile trust he had placed in her. But she was too terrified to think about anything other than escape. Spending her wedding night with him seemed infinitely worse than any punishment she could imagine him inflicting on her. She could not lay with him tonight. She wouldn’t.

Casting one last look at the fortress to make sure nobody had seen her, Amy fled.

Shadow’s ears pricked up when he saw Princess Sally Acorn return to the hall. Relief that he would be reunited with his bride gave way to alarm when he saw that Rose was not with her.

“Rose?” he demanded, rising to his feet. “Where is Rose?”

He pushed through the throng towards Sally. A few guests made an irritated noise as they were shoved roughly out of the way, only to quickly quieten when they saw it was King Shadow who had pushed them. “Rose?” Shadow called again, hoping with every step that she would materialise in the crowd. “Has anyone seen Rose?” Panic was rapidly bubbling in his chest and he forced it down. She would be here somewhere, he told himself.

Finally Sally was before him. He closed his arm around her wrist; she shot him an irritable look and her queen’s guard drew his sword, but Shadow ignored it.

“Where is Rose?” he said immediately. “She was supposed to be with you.”

“We only went to the very edge of the grounds,” Sally replied, looking puzzled. “Has she not returned yet?”

Shadow’s heart sank to his stomach.

“Rose?” he bellowed, whirling desperately around in search of her. “ROSE?”

A Dark Presence soldier darted over to Shadow. “I’ve just patrolled the spot where Queen Rose and Princess Sally were talking,” he said quickly. “She isn’t there anymore.”

No, he thought with a sickening lurch.

He thought back to Rouge’s words. The wedding will be a prime target for the Resistance. They will look to kill you or kidnap Amy Rose or both.

He drew his sword. “Find her,” he snarled. “Bar the fortress. Nobody enters or leaves until Queen Rose is found.”

An unsettled murmur rippled through the guests as the Dark Presence barred the doors of the hall, their steel weapons glinting threateningly in their hands. He was vaguely aware of Sally, who was trying to push past his soldiers with an indignant expression.

“Let me through,” she snarled. “I am the ruler of the Acorn Kingdom. Let me through.”

 A hand fell on his shoulder; Shadow whipped around, drawing his sword – fear had made him agitated – but it was only a Dark Presence soldier.

“My lord,” he said hurriedly, “she’s been spotted fleeing towards the southern gate.”

Shadow went after her in a flash of black.

Amy was now very far away from the castle. She had crossed the grasses and reached the lavender fields in the southernmost part of the grounds.

She was starting to hope that she might truly escape after all until she heard a roar of pure fury from behind her.

It was King Shadow, standing by the entrance to the grounds, near where she and Sally had spoken earlier. Even with the distance between them, Amy could see the rage contorting his face, the outrage in his crimson eyes.

She turned back and ran even faster.

She couldn’t lay with him tonight. She couldn’t.

 She darted through the fields of lavender; she was going as fast as she could but she could feel the long, heavy skirts of her wedding dress slowing her down. Dirt lay smeared across the silky white fabric. Amy glanced over her shoulder – and to her horror, she saw Shadow tearing across the grounds, gaining on her with unnatural speed. He was not running but skating, she realised, leaving a trail of embers in his wake that singed and blackened the grass. His rocket shoes.

 Her lungs were screaming for air and her chest felt like it was about to burst but still she ran, her breaths coming out of her in ragged gasps. Her foot snagged on the hem of her dress and she fell; she scrambled to her feet and kept going.

She dared to cast one more glance over her shoulder. The last thing she saw was Shadow’s glowing red eyes before he barrelled into her and knocked her to the ground.

The black hedgehog was upon her, pinning her to the ground with his weight. Her legs were trapped underneath her skirts but her arms were free; she swung her fists wildly but Shadow grabbed her wrists forcefully and pinned them above her head. The panic that had consumed her reached a fever pitch and the tears began to spill down her cheeks. She shook her head desperately – it was the only thing she could do.

“No,” she sobbed. “No.”

Shadow’s teeth were bared in a snarl and his eyes were wide with fury. Amy had never seen him look so angry and it terrified her.

“How dare you try to escape,” he snarled. “You – are – mine. The whole world bore witness to it today. You belong to me now. Your body is mine by rights.”

“No,” she choked out. “I’ve changed my mind. Let me go.”

“I will never let you go, little rose,” he spat. “We are joined together; I am part of you now. You will stay with me in the castle like a good wife should. This is the choice you made.”

“But tonight –” she sputtered, “I can’t do it – please, don’t make me…”

Shadow paused then, his features twisted with confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about…” Amy tried to calm her shuddering breaths. “I’m talking about the thing that is supposed to happen on our wedding night. I can’t do it, Shadow. I can’t…”

The black hedgehog stared at her for a moment, his brow furrowed. Then understanding seemed to dawn on him.

“I’m sorry,” she spluttered. “I thought I was ready to marry you but – I’m not ready, Shadow – not for that…” 

For a moment he said nothing, but his gaze seemed to soften. He released his grip on her wrists. Then he gave a long sigh and let his forehead rest against hers.

“Oh, Rose,” he sighed softly. “Is that what this is all about?”

Amy bit her lip and nodded.

They lay like that for a while, their breaths mingling in the warm night air. The scent of lavender swirled around them, heavy and sweet. All that could be heard was the gentle, melodious chirping of crickets, punctuated by Amy’s quivering breaths. Amy was unexpectedly struck by the realisation that it was, in fact, a very pleasant summer’s evening.   

When Shadow spoke, his voice was soft yet strained. “Rose,” he began, “if you don’t want to consummate the marriage tonight… we don’t have to. I won’t make you.”

Amy’s eyes flicked up to meet his. “You… won’t?”

He sighed. “No. I will wait for you, little rose, until you’re ready.”

“But,” she asked in a small voice, “what if I’m never ready?”

He took her face in his hands and pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead. “Then I will die happy,” he murmured into her quills, “knowing that I had the privilege of a lifetime married to you.”

A strange feeling spread through Amy then – it felt like respect scattered with something remarkably similar to affection.

“Shadow?” she whispered. “I think – I think I’m ready to go home now.”

Shadow gazed at her, his finger tracing her jawline. “Very well, little rose,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

Shadow carried Rose, bridal-style, back to the castle. Upon entering its walls he was immediately swarmed by the Dark Presence and his other servants.

“It’s her!”

“He has the queen!”

“Queen Rose is safe!”

Shadow pushed through them, his eyes set on the stairway that led to Rose’s bedchamber.

“The queen is tired,” he said flatly. “The wedding is over. I wish to be with my wife.”

A servant looked at him in alarm. “But my lord – your guests are awaiting your return in the hall – some have travelled quite some way to attend…”

“I said that the wedding is over,” Shadow repeated harshly. “You will give my regards to our guests and see them to the gates.”

The servant bowed his head and left.

Shadow carried Rose to her bedchamber and set her down gently on the bed. There was no fire or candle lit; the servants had, of course, assumed that Rose would be sleeping in his bedchamber tonight. He busied himself with lighting the fire while Rose prepared for bed; most kings would have called their servants to handle such a lowly task but Shadow had not forgotten the life he had lived before he became king. He was not above lighting a fire.

He left the room to fetch Rose’s wedding present: a leatherbound book with the words Sleeping Beauty engraved in gold letters on the front cover. When he returned, Rose was under the covers; her dirtied wedding dress lay discarded in the corner.

“What’s that?” she asked wearily.

“Your wedding present,” Shadow responded. “Or part of it, anyway.”

He settled himself on the bed next to Rose, taking care to stay on top of the covers – he did not trust himself to be under the covers with her. Rose fingered the book sleepily.

“This one’s my favourite,” she mumbled.

“I know, little rose,” he murmured, brushing her cheek gently with his finger. It was not just the Resistance the Dark Eyes gathered intelligence on.

He began to read to her. He knew his voice was harsh, stilted – he had not read a book to anyone since his sister Maria, and no-one had ever read a book to him – but he continued because he wanted to please Rose. Eventually he found a rhythm, and relaxed into it; and he was surprised when Rose did the same, nestling close to him with her head resting on his white chest fur. Shadow’s muzzle reddened, and he was sure Rose would hear his heart pounding rapidly in his chest; but if she did, she said nothing.

The fire died down until only the glowing embers remained. Shadow noticed that Rose’s eyes were closed and her breathing had slowed, her chest rising and falling under the bedsheets. Shadow closed the book and set it aside; and for a moment he simply watched her, mesmerised by the hedgehog who was now asleep on his chest. She was so beautiful, he thought as he gazed at her, so pure. He felt like some dark, twisted, wretched thing in comparison.

He couldn’t believe she was his.

Reluctantly Shadow rose, taking care not to disturb Rose’s slumber as he peeled her from his chest. He thought he had been successful until he heard her whisper in the darkness.

“Shadow.”

He bent close to her, his heart racing.

“Yes, Rose?”

“Thank you.”

Then she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

It was a small action, but it was the first time she had willingly shown affection to him since he had captured her all those months ago.

For the first time, Shadow felt hope that perhaps, one day, his wife could learn to love him.

Chapter Text

“You didn’t consummate the marriage?”

Rouge was staring at him incredulously, her palms flat on the desk she was hunched over. Shadow sipped his coffee, refusing to meet her gaze. Gods, it was annoying having a commander who knew his every move.

“Queen Rose was not disposed towards the idea last night,” he said flatly. “The hesitation was not from me, I assure you.”

How had the Dark Eyes found out he hadn’t lay with Rose? The servants probably noticed that Rose hadn’t slept in his bedchamber last night. Yes, that would be it. They’d noticed Rose had slept separately in her own bedchamber and started whispering about it amongst themselves and that had somehow made its way back to Rouge. The sneaky, gossiping bastards.

“It doesn’t matter how she feels about the prospect, Shadow. You were supposed to consummate the marriage!”

“What was I supposed to do?” Shadow spat, flattening his ears against his head. “Rape her?”

“No,” Rouge retorted, “you were supposed to nicely convince her to crawl into bed with you. Serenade her with a romantic ballad. Tell her she’s the most beautiful girl in the world and you can’t wait to grow old with her and the sun pales in comparison to her smile. Do whatever you need to do – just make sure you’ve put a baby in her by the end of it.”

“Careful, Rouge,” Shadow warned, pulling his lips back in a snarl. “You may be my most trusted advisor but you are speaking to the king.”

“You won’t be a king for much longer,” Rouge snapped, “if you don’t secure an heir and put an end to the Resistance!”

Shadow leaned back in his chair and pinched his brow, frustrated. He knew Rouge was right – she always was. The whole point of marrying Rose was to secure an heir, quelling the rebellion and entrenching his dynasty. If he failed to do that, the entire plan would have been a waste of time.

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret his decision. Rose had nearly run away from him in fear of performing her marital duties, and he couldn’t risk losing her. More importantly, Shadow was infatuated with Rose and he wanted her to return his feelings. If Shadow was to prove to his wife that he wasn’t the monster she thought he was, he needed to respect her wishes. And that approach seemed to be working, he thought, touching the spot on his muzzle she had kissed last night. He would happily let the war with the Resistance wage on for another thousand days and nights if it meant receiving her genuine affection again.

Rouge ran an exasperated hand over her face. “Shadow, every night you delay laying with Rose is a step closer to being overthrown. You need to secure an heir and now. This is the only way we’ll ever completely defeat the Resistance.”

She sighed and went to the door.

“I’ll speak to Rose,” she said, “and see what I can do. Leave it to me.”

Amy was already up and dressed when there was a knock on the door of her bedchamber. Amy closed the book Shadow had brought her and placed it tentatively on the bedside table.

“Yes?”

“It’s just me, sweetheart.” She recognised Rouge’s smooth, sultry voice. “May I come in?”

“Okay.”

The door opened and Rouge sauntered into the room in a haze of curves and heavy perfume. The white bat perched on the bed and shot Amy a knowing smile. Amy felt a flicker of unease. Rouge seemed friendly enough on the surface, but there was something she didn’t trust about the bat.

“I thought I would come and say hello,” Rouge said, her voice like honey. “How did you like the wedding?”

It was an innocuous enough question, yet Amy could detect something in her tone – like Rouge was trying to get information from her.

“It was an interesting day,” she responded carefully, trying to keep her voice neutral. “I enjoyed meeting some of the guests.”

“Good,” Rouge purred. “I’m glad to hear it.”

She rested her hand on Amy’s.

“You’re a queen now, Rose,” Rouge remarked. “Do you know what that means?”

Amy frowned before remembering what Sally Acorn had told her at the wedding. “It means putting my people first.”

“Yes,” Rouge said, “but it also means fulfilling your duties as queen.” She met Amy’s gaze. “And that means giving King Shadow an heir.”

Then it dawned on her. Rouge has discovered I didn’t lay with Shadow on our wedding night.

Rouge tilted her head. “Do you find Shadow… unattractive?” she asked. “Or do you perhaps prefer the company of women?”

“No,” Amy answered honestly. “I can’t deny that Shadow is very handsome.” 

“Do you know where to put it? It’s very common to be nervous if it’s your first time, you know. I can send one of my girls to teach you, if that would be helpful.”

Amy’s cheeks flamed red. “I know where to put it,” she mumbled.

“Then why,” Rouge said, her voice suddenly sharp, “do the Dark Eyes tell me you didn’t consummate the marriage last night?”

Amy was taken aback by Rouge’s unexpected ferocity – but her shock was quickly replaced by indignation. “I’m sorry if I didn’t particularly feel like being intimate with the hedgehog who has killed and maimed so many of my friends –”

Rouge suddenly – painfully – squeezed Amy’s hand. Her eyes flashed dangerously.

“Do you think you are the first woman who has had to lay with a man when she didn’t want to?” Rouge hissed. “When I ran a brothel during the days of the Eggman Empire, it was something my girls had to endure every night. We all have to do difficult things we would rather not do, Rose. But we must do them anyway, for the greater good.”

She released her grip on Amy and brought her hand up to stroke Amy’s quills.

“You are comfortable now, with all the food you could eat and all the dresses you could want,” she murmured. “But outside these castle walls, a war rages. The Dark Presence spill the blood of the Resistance and the Resistance spill the blood of the Dark Presence. And who suffers? The innocents – the very people you are sworn to protect as queen.”

She moved her hand to Amy’s chin, tilting it gently so that Amy had no choice to meet her gaze.

“You need to have Shadow’s baby as soon as possible if we would like any hope of ending this war. Do you understand?”

A stab of fear went through Amy. Rouge had, until now, always been fairly kind to Amy; and Amy had, perhaps naively, allowed herself to fall into a false sense of security with regard to the bat. Amy knew that, as commander of the Dark Eyes, she had to be wary of the words she shared with Rouge – but she never thought Rouge would actually hurt her. It was only now Amy realised that, while Rouge seemed unassuming, she was no friend to Amy. She was a dangerous individual who had climbed the ranks of the Dark Presence for a reason. She might not wield a blade and enforce Shadow’s regime directly, but it was because of her and her intelligence that so many of Amy’s friends had been captured and executed in the first place.

Amy swallowed and averted her gaze. “I understand.”

“Good.”

Rouge hopped off the bed. Her movements were light and cheerful, all traces of her former menace forgotten.

“Well, come on!” she said brightly. “You need to get ready.”

“For what?”

Rouge flashed her a dazzling smile. “For your honeymoon, silly.”

They travelled to their destination by airship. It was only the second time ever Amy had travelled by airship; this time, a Dark Presence warrior piloted the ship while Shadow and Amy sat as passengers in the back. It was a far longer journey than her first time riding the aircraft, when Shadow had taken her home after visiting her father, and Amy was struggling to grow accustomed to the ship’s violent lurching movements. She clasped a hand over her mouth, trying to swallow down a wave of nausea.

Shadow looked at her in alarm. “Rose, are you feeling unwell?”

“I’m okay,” she mumbled, “just a little airsick.”

Shadow whipped his head around to face the pilot. “Fly more carefully,” he snarled. “You are making the queen ill.”

“Uh – yes, sire!” the Dark Presence warrior said quickly.

“Honestly, I’m fine,” Amy said, trying to suppress a small smile. Why was Shadow so incapable of showing concern in a healthy way? She tried to change the subject: “Where are we going?”

Shadow gazed at the clouds passing them by out of the window, his gaze unreadable. “Apparently we are on our honeymoon, but really we are touring some of the major towns across the country. Rouge thought it would improve morale if the people saw their new queen in the flesh.”

Amy was about to respond when the airship lurched again; bile rose in her throat.

“How much farther?” she called to the pilot.

“Uh, not much farther, my lady!” he responded. “We’re nearly there.”

Amy blinked in surprise. She had not actually expected the Dark Presence warrior to answer her; they had only ever ignored her before, after all. You’re their queen now, Amy reminded herself. Of course they are going to treat you with more respect.

Amy was relieved when the airship finally landed. Shadow helped her out of the vehicle. Amy looked around: they were in a pretty market town, with cobblestone streets and bunting that hung in ribbons between the rows of houses and shops. The Dark Presence filtered out into the town square, their black garb strikingly out of place against the soft, warm colours of the town. The townspeople peered curiously at the commotion; then they saw Shadow’s emblem and hurriedly moved on.

Amy let out a small gasp. Shadow had taken her hand and threaded his fingers through hers.

She glanced up at him. “Putting on a show for the people?” she remarked wryly.

Shadow blinked at her in surprise. “No,” he said, “I’m simply showing affection towards my wife.”

A strange sensation coiled in her belly at his words. She quickly pushed it away.

They began walking through the street, flanked by the Dark Presence. The townspeople’s reactions to them were mixed, Amy noticed. Many saw Shadow and averted their gazes fearfully; but then their eyes moved to Amy, and their expressions seemed to soften. Some smiled at her; one or two even lifted their hands in a wave. Amy smiled and waved back.

A small kitten clinging to her mother’s skirts pointed at Amy excitedly. “Look, mama! It’s the new princess.”

The kitten’s mother cast a terrified look at Shadow before turning back to her child. “She is a queen, my darling, not a princess,” she said anxiously. “You mustn’t get her title wrong; you’ll offend Queen Rose…”

Amy halted. The Dark Presence glanced over their shoulder at her, as if wondering why they’d stopped.

Amy went over to the mother and child, leaving Shadow behind. The woman’s eyes widened in terror.

“I apologise, my lady,” she stammered. “She’s only a little girl – she doesn’t understand…”

Amy tried to put her at ease with a reassuring smile.

“I’m not offended,”  she said kindly. “Every woman wearing a crown is a princess to them at that age.”

She kneeled until she was at eye level with the child.

“Do you like fairytale princesses?” Amy said warmly. “Which ones are your favourites?”

The kitten beamed at her, oblivious to her mother’s fear. “I like all the princesses!” she cried excitedly. “Snow White and Sleeping Beauty and Beauty and the Beast, too!”

Amy winked at the child, her green eyes twinkling. “Those are my favourites, too,” she said. “Be good for your mother, now.”

The child’s mother shot her a grateful look. “Thank you, Queen Rose,” she breathed. “You are most kind.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Amy responded.

When Amy turned back to Shadow, she found that a small crowd had formed around the black hedgehog. They were clamouring for their king so enthusiastically that the Dark Presence had formed a circle around Shadow to shield him from the sea of grasping hands. Amy watched the scene with interest; most of the common people she knew were afraid of Shadow at worse and apathetic towards him at best. She had never seen this level of devotion towards him before.

“My lord, I am proud to say that my son fights for you in the Dark Arms!” one woman – an elderly dog – cried out. “He tells me he is paid well and treated fairly. All hail Shadow!”

Another – a young wolf – dipped his head in a bow. “My lord, I lost my wife to pillagers during the Eggman Empire. Thanks to your swift justice, I can rest easy knowing that the bastards lay six feet beneath the dirt where they belong. Long live the king!"

“Make way!” the Dark Presence snarled, parting the jostling crowd so Amy could return to her husband’s side. “Make way for the King and Queen of the Dark Empire!”

Amy and Shadow continued down the street until Shadow halted before a large house.

Shadow gazed down at her. “Rose, there’s something I wanted to show you,” he said. “Come with me.”

He led Amy inside the building. She felt slightly relieved to get away from the crowd.

Inside it was shady and cool. It was a simple house, with bare stone walls and wooden beams that crisscrossed above her head, but the signs of wear across the floor gave it the comforting impression of being lived-in. Sunlight poured through the lattice windows, casting golden dapples of light on Shadow’s fur. It was dusty but not dirty.

A mouse with grey-brown fur came out to meet them. To Amy’s surprise, she showed no sign of fear at King Shadow’s presence.

“King Shadow,” she said warmly, dipping her head, “it’s good to see you again. And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Queen Rose. The children are through the hall. Please, follow me.”

Amy followed the mouse, curiosity pricking at her fur. Just where were they?

The room opened up into a hall. Then Amy let out a small gasp. Inside the hall were perhaps two dozen children.

Amy’s first thought was that they were perhaps the mouse’s family, until she noticed that all the children were from different species. There were cats and foxes, rabbits and bears. Some were playing quietly with toys while others played boisterously with each other, their delighted shrieks echoing upon the stone walls. Amy noticed a small wooden sign on the wall. Orphanage.

 Shadow gazed at them, his face impassive.

“How are the children?” he asked.

“They’re doing well, my lord,” the mouse replied. “They’re healthy and eager to learn, which is always a good sign. We had a bit of trouble when introducing the newcomers the other week, but they’re all settled in now, I’m pleased to say. The grant you so generously gave was most beneficial.”

“Good. So long as I rule, no child will ever know pain or hunger.”

Amy was interrupted by something brushing up against her. She looked down to find a child – a tiny hedgehog – clinging her leg. The child blinked up at her with wide, blue eyes.

“Hello,” the tiny hedgehog said. “Are you here to be my new mama?”

Amy kneeled down until she was at eye level with the child, utterly mesmerised. For so long Amy had contented herself with the idea that she might never have children of her own – there were so few hedgehogs around these days that it seemed fruitless to hope – and the motherly instincts she had tried so hard to suppress now came out in full force, like a river breaking a dam. She was so beautiful, so small. She was someone’s baby. In another life she might have been Amy’s. And yet here she was, in an orphanage, with no parents to hold her or sing to her or comfort her when she was afraid.

She gently offered her hand. The little hedgehog accepted it, wrapping a tiny fist around Amy’s finger.

“Hello,” Amy breathed.

“Do you want to come and play with me?” the child asked hopefully.

Amy felt a pang of longing in her chest. “I would love to, little one.”

The little hedgehog led her by her finger to a pair of dolls. She offered one to Amy.

“This one is the mama,” she explained solemnly. “And my one is the baby.”

For a moment Amy forgot everything while she played with the child. It was fascinating and wondrous; she was so small and yet here she was, her little mind inventing games and stories and fantasy worlds, with no concern spared for the fact that she was in an orphanage. It made Amy tremendously happy and tremendously sad at the same time.

Amy couldn’t help the question that spilled from her lips. “Where are your parents?”

The child continued to play with the dolls, seemingly unbothered by the query. “The bad people killed them.”

Amy’s heart twisted in pity. “I’m so sorry, little one. Doctor Eggman was a very bad man.”

“Not Eggman,” the hedgehog mumbled, still focused on the dolls. “The bad people who blew up the hospital."

Amy’s heart sank to her stomach.

She remembered what Shadow had told her, some time ago. Some trouble with your little Resistance friends this morning… They decided to use some Eggman explosives they found to blow up a hospital…

She rose shakily to her feet, trying to suppress the pure, unadulterated horror rising up in her throat like bile as she looked at the tiny hedgehog now left without a mother or father. The child continued chattering happily, oblivious to Amy’s reaction.

“It’s okay, though,” she went on. “When I’m older, I’m going to be a brave Dark Arms soldier and stop them!”

There had to be some kind of mistake, she thought.

Amy returned to the mouse running the orphanage.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled.

The mouse gave her a warm smile. “Yes, Queen Rose?”

“That child just now…” Amy swallowed. “She said she lost her parents when some bad people blew up the hospital.”

The mouse nodded. “Yes, the poor little poppet joined us fairly recently, after the Resistance attack on the town’s hospital,” she said. “Nasty bit of business, that was. We’re grateful King Shadow directs so much money towards supporting us, otherwise we’d never have been able to take in all the new arrivals.”

Her horror was briefly replaced with surprise. “He does?”

The mouse nodded. “It was King Shadow who founded this orphanage in the first place. One of the first things he did when he came to power was direct funds to the worst off in society – the poor, the disabled, the orphans. Setting up the orphanage was simply part of that. It was originally supposed to be for children whose parents were killed or roboticized during the Eggman Empire, but our remit expanded to other causes, too: children whose parents later died of long asthma, and – recently – those displaced by the Resistance attacks.”

Amy bit her lip. “I didn’t know the Resistance did anything like this,” she admitted truthfully.

“Oh, yes,” the mouse sighed. “The Resistance are far more connected to all this than many realise.”

“How so?”

“Well, our kingdom’s treasury was nearly decimated after the Eggman Empire,” the mouse explained. “So in order to raise enough money to support the poorest in society, King Shadow had to increase taxes on the richest – the noblemen, the landowners. They didn’t like that King Shadow was taxing them so heavily, but of course none of them were bold enough to defy him openly. So instead, they began to covertly donate to the Resistance – they hoped thar, with King Shadow gone and King Sonic back on the throne, things could go back to how they were.”

“But that can’t be right,” Amy stammered. “People fight for the Resistance because they believe in a free Mobius. Not because they want the rich to stop paying their taxes.”

The mouse shrugged. “That may be so,” she said, “but all want the same result: to end King Shadow’s reign. The Resistance are happy to accept the nobility’s coin no matter how dubious their intentions may be. My place is not to ponder over the intricacies of politics, but to look after our children – who, in spite of being the most innocent of all, suffer the most in this war.”

Amy blinked at her, stunned. Were the mouse’s words true? It was possible she was lying and yet she had made it very clear she had no interest in politics, only in providing for the children in the orphanage. Amy racked her brain, trying to think of something to prove it was not true, but nothing sprang to mind. She was forced to admit that, beyond her own Resistance activities with Tails and Knuckles, she knew very little of the rebellion indeed. Knuckles had always claimed to keep them in the dark for their own safety. Could there be another reason why he was so secretive?

Her gaze shifted to Shadow. The black hedgehog was watching the children play; his ear flicked as she wandered over to him.

“So,” he said in a low growl once she came to stand beside him, “now you know the truth.”

Amy wrung her hands uncertainly. “I didn’t realise you cared so much for the children in this kingdom.”

There was a protective glint in his eye. “Children are a blessing,” he growled. “All people are naturally inclined towards evil – except for children, who are wholly innocent. The strong must protect the weak, and so I will do whatever I must to protect them. Without them, the Dark Empire has no future.”

Amy glanced up at him, surprised by his words. “Really?”

Shadow nodded. “I know you think of my rule as harsh,” he murmured. “But when I watch these children play, safe and warm and well-fed… I know that everything I have done has been worth it.”

The strange feeling that had coiled in her belly earlier returned. And for the first time, Amy began to understand the cruel black hedgehog standing beside her. There was a fierce brutality in his heart, but at its root was an intense need to protect. It reminded Amy of the love a parent had for their child – not the gentle love most might think of but the fierce, relentless, unconditional love that made a mother bear maul her foes without flinching to save the lives of her cubs.

“Do you want to be a father?” Amy asked suddenly.

Shadow watched the children wordlessly for a moment.

“I would love nothing more,” he said finally.

Night was falling by the time they left the orphanage. Amy and Shadow retired to a nearby inn for dinner and lodging. Some Dark Presence soldiers stationed themselves outside; the fortunate soldiers who remained spread themselves out across the inn, washing down a hard day’s work with mugs of dark ale. A hush fell upon the inn at the sight of the newcomers; but when Shadow led Amy to a secluded table in the corner, and it became obvious the king was not here to take their heads, the rest of the guests at the inn seemed to relax and return to their conversations.

A plump rabbit who Amy presumed was the barmaid immediately came to greet them. She stooped her head in a deep bow.

“King Shadow, Queen Rose,” she purred, “this is an honour. If there is anything at all I can get you, do let me know.”

Amy nodded awkwardly, unaccustomed to being treated so importantly.

Shadow ordered them some venison stew with hot crusty bread and some red wine to share. It was simple fare, yet utterly delicious.

After they finished their meal, Amy rose to her feet.

Shadow’s ears pricked in alarm. “Where are you going?” he demanded.

“Only to the privy.”

Shadow made to stand up. “I’ll send someone from the Dark Presence to escort you.”

“There’s no need,” Amy said, twitching an ear in irritation. “I’ll only be a moment.”

“I don’t care. There are Resistance members crawling all over the place, Rose. They’d delight in putting your head on a spike.”

Amy sighed. Then she touched his shoulder gently; it felt strange and unnatural touching him in such an intimate way, but she knew it was necessary to try and get her point across. His eyes flicked to her hand, then her face, in surprise.

“I know that you… care about me,” Amy began awkwardly. She wasn’t convinced that Shadow’s possessive behaviour towards her was best described as caring, but she didn’t know how else to put it. “But you need to grant me more freedom, Shadow. If you truly want me to give myself to you, you can’t continue to treat me like a caged bird.”

Shadow held her gaze for a moment. Then he turned away, ears flattened unhappily.

“Fine,” he relented.

Amy smiled and made her way across the inn to the privy outdoors. As she hitched her skirts around her waist and did her business, she couldn’t help but let out a small sigh. She had only had the pleasure of solitude a small handful of times since King Shadow had captured her, and it was a relief to be alone with her thoughts at last. He had at least allowed her to go to the privy alone; it was only a small step, but it showed that Shadow was trying to listen to her demands. Perhaps with time and trust, his possessiveness towards her would lessen.

She was just making her way back towards the table when she felt a hand close around her wrist.

Amy whipped around, heart pulsing. Had Shadow been right after all? Was she in danger?

Then she relaxed; it was only the barmaid.

The rabbit pressed something into Amy’s hand.

“You dropped this, my lady,” she said lightly.

It was a crumpled slip of parchment. Amy looked at it, frowning. “What? This isn’t mine.”

“Oh, I’m fairly certain its yours, dear,” she insisted. “Fell right out of your pocket, you see. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and change the barrel.”

Before Amy could protest, the barmaid had slipped away. That was strange, she reflected.

She decided to unravel the parchment. There was a message scrawled on it in black ink. 

Meet me in the attic room after nightfall.

– A friend

Her breath caught in her throat.

The Resistance.

It had to be them. She thought they had forgotten about her – she hadn’t heard from them since her capture months ago – but they must have found an opportunity to see her now. There was no other explanation.

She glanced over her shoulder at the sky. The moon was rising, a silver scratch against the inky blue twilight.

She didn’t have much time.

Her heart was racing when she returned to Shadow. His ears immediately pricked when he saw her; he had noticed her animated movements.

“Rose?” he asked in a low growl. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” Amy responded, a little too quickly. He narrowed his eyes, so she added, “I know it’s early, but I’m feeling a little tired, and I was actually hoping we could go to bed soon.”

A look of surprise flashed across Shadow’s face.

“I see,” he murmured. “Yes, of course we can.”

Shadow summoned the barmaid who led them upstairs to their room. The rabbit gave no acknowledgement of their earlier exchange. 

“Your men came by and dropped your things off earlier,” the barmaid explained with a dip of her head. “Sleep well, your majesties.”

She handed Shadow a rusty brass key and disappeared. Shadow unlocked the room and pushed the door open.  

Inside was a simple bedchamber, dimly lit by the lantern sitting on the bedside table.

Amy’s breath caught in her throat. There was only one bed, she realised.

She swallowed and began to remove her jewellery, trying to ignore the unspoken implication of their sleeping arrangements. Shadow has promised to wait until I’m ready, she told herself shakily. Potentially sharing a bed tonight does not change that.

Yet Amy felt the black hedgehog’s unmistakeable presence behind her, tall and imposing. He was so much larger than her, she thought in the moment – not just his height but his significant bulk, his muscles rippling dangerously under his black pelt, a wordless display of his formidable strength. She felt his breath on her ear as he leaned over her, like a snake about to constrict its prey.

And then he was kissing her neck – and they were gentle kisses, light enough to make her fur stand on end, but there was no mistaking the desire in his movements, the desire now pressing into her lower back, just above her tail. She closed her eyes, tilting her quills away from her neck and parting her lips slightly to let out the tiniest sigh of satisfaction, while the more carnal parts of her whispered that she should set aside her silly fears and anxieties about consummating the marriage and let things take their natural course. His hands were busy undoing the strings of her corset, but she barely noticed until he hooked his thumbs through the shoulders of her dress and let it fall in a pool to the floor. Her breasts sprung free, released from the bounds of her clothing; and then Shadow’s hands came up to meet them…

The feel of Shadow’s hands against her unclothed body was enough to jolt her from her stupor. Amy flinched away, covering herself with her arms.

“What are you doing?” she cried shrilly.

Shadow tilted her head up to face him, running his thumb absentmindedly across her bottom lip. His gaze was unfocused and glassy.

“What do you think I’m doing, little rose?” he murmured huskily.

“You promised you’d wait until I was ready!” she hissed.

A look of puzzlement crossed Shadow’s face. “I did,” he said, “but downstairs just now you said you wanted us to go to bed – you said it in such a sudden and flustered way, and it’s much earlier than the time you normally go to sleep – I thought perhaps you meant you wanted to –”

“That’s not what I meant!” Amy protested. “When I said I wanted to go to bed, I simply meant that I wanted to sleep.”

“Oh.” The fog that had clouded him seemed to lift. He looked away, his cheeks flaming; he looked embarrassed. “Right.”

Awkwardly, Amy turned away from him and opened the chest the Dark Presence had brought up earlier. Inside she found her off-white nightgown; she pulled it over her head, relieved when her body was once again covered. She cast a glance over her shoulder at Shadow; he had, respectfully, averted his gaze.

They lingered awkwardly, a few paces away from each other, staring at the bed.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Shadow said gruffly.

Amy wrung her hands nervously. “Thank you.”

She climbed into the bed, feeling a little guilty; the uneven wooden slabs of the floor did not look particularly comfortable. She wondered if she ought to relent and invite Shadow to share the bed with her after all; while she’d feel more at ease sleeping alone, her priority was making sure that Shadow fell to sleep as quickly as possible so she could sneak out of the bedchamber undetected. That would be an easier feat to achieve were Shadow sleeping on a soft mattress and not a hard wooden floor.

Amy swallowed. “You can kiss me goodnight,” she mumbled, “if you want.”

Shadow looked surprised, but pleased. He strode over to her bedside and kneeled before her, gazing at her expectantly.

Amy’s heart was racing but she compelled herself to lean forwards and press her lips to his. He tasted like red wine and lust. His mouth moved responsively and he deepened the kiss, though Amy could tell he was holding back; it was not quite the chaste kiss he had given her on her wedding day yet it was not the hungry, passionate kiss he had stolen from her on the night of their engagement either. Amy was surprised by just how much she liked it.

It was Shadow who pulled away, his expression slightly pained, as if he were exercising all his self-restraint. He gazed at her for a moment, his red eyes flickering in the warm glow of the lantern, before rising to his feet.

“Goodnight, little rose.”

“Goodnight.”

He blew out the lantern and the room was plunged into darkness. Shadow removed his crown and cape, then crouched on the rug in front of the hearth; he did not sleep but instead sat there, his arms wrapped around his knees, watching the cinders. After a while he rose to his feet and gazed out of the lattice window, his fur an inky blue-black in the cold moonlight. Finally, he went back to the hearth and lay down on his side; he looked as if he might have been asleep, though Amy could tell from his breathing that he was awake.

Amy lay there, desperately trying to stay awake even though she was now very tired. She had to wait for Shadow to fall asleep if she had any chance of slipping out to the attic room. Amy wondered, with some frustration, what was taking him so long.

Eventually his breathing slowed and fell into a rhythm. Amy stayed in bed for a little while longer, hardly daring to move. Then, when she was sure that Shadow was asleep, she peeled back the bed covers and crept across the room to the door. The floorboards creaked softly under her weight. As quietly as she could, she turned the doorknob and opened the door a crack. She flicked one last glance over her shoulder at Shadow; to her relief, he had not stirred. Then she left the room.

She could hear the steady roar of noise from the bar below. Amy crept along the corridor, trying to find the attic room mentioned in the note. She was barefoot and still in her nightgown, but there was nothing she could do about that; it would have been too risky to change into her clothes and boots.

At the end of the corridor were some wooden steps leading upstairs. Maybe this is the right way, she thought.

She climbed the steps. At the top was a small landing with a single door. Gently, she tried the handle. It was unlocked.

Slowly, she creaked open the door. She was met with a large bedchamber, much like she one she had just come from. There was a fire roaring on the other side of the room; whoever was staying here was obviously awake.

A figure rose and came into view, silhouetted against the light of the fire.

It was Knuckles, she realised.

“Briar Rose,” he said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Chapter Text

“Knuckles,” Amy cried.

Amy immediately embraced the red echidna, burying her head in his spines. She had expected to see the Resistance ever since the barmaid passed her their note but now she was here, reunited with her old comrade after many months as King Shadow’s captive, she found herself unexpectedly overwhelmed with emotions – joy that Knuckles was alive, sadness that Tails was not here to join them, guilt that she had kissed Shadow just moments prior and – worse – that she had enjoyed it.

Her eyes smarted with tears. “It’s so good to see you,” she whispered. “I haven’t seen you or anyone from the Resistance in so long – I thought you were dead or that maybe you’d forgotten about me…”

Knuckles let out a low chuckle and returned the embrace, patting her on the back. “It’s good to see you too, Briar Rose,” he replied gruffly. “It’ll take more than some Dark Presence goons to kill me, I assure you.”

Amy pulled away, confusion settling on her face. “How did you get past the Dark Presence? There are dozens of them in the bar below.”

The corner of Knuckles’ mouth pulled upwards in a smirk. “The barmaid slipped a little something in the ale she served them,” he explained. “They won’t be going anywhere in a hurry.”

Then his face turned serious.

“And what of you, Briar Rose?” he asked. “How did you manage to slip away from King Shadow?”

“I just waited for him to fall asleep,” Amy said, with a nervous glance at the door. “He could wake up at any moment, so I don’t have much time.”

Knuckles nodded. “Fine. We’ll try to make this quick, then. Much has happened since we were ambushed near the village and there are things we must discuss.”

He offered her a mug of watery ale. Amy drank it gratefully, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “What happened after I was captured?”

Knuckles sank his own mug of ale before speaking. “After I fought my way out of the Dark Presence ambush, I fled to a Resistance faction in the north. I was hoping that you’d managed to escape, too, until I heard you were taken prisoner and betrothed to King Shadow. We’ve been working away in secret ever since, trying to find a way to get you out. When our intelligence told us you’d be coming here on a royal visit, we came as soon as we could.”

“So… you’re rescuing me now?” Amy asked uncertainly.

To Amy’s surprise, she wasn’t sure how she felt about the prospect of leaving King Shadow for the Resistance. A few weeks ago she would have been delighted – yet since then, she had learned that the Resistance bombed hospitals and accepted coin from dubious sources. She was beginning to see the Resistance in a different light.

She was beginning to see King Shadow in a different light, too.

But Knuckles shook his head. “I’m sorry, Briar Rose. It’s too risky, especially if King Shadow might wake at any moment. Word is that King Shadow is very protective of his bride.”

Amy pulled a face. “You aren’t wrong about that,” she mumbled.

“Did Tails manage to make it out of the ambush alive? We didn’t hear anything about an execution.”

Amy hesitated. “Tails… joined the Dark Presence,” she said finally. “I went to see him shortly before I was engaged to King Shadow. He’s changed, Knuckles. He… He thinks the Resistance have abandoned him.”

“So he’s betrayed us,” an unfamiliar voice piped up.

Amy turned towards the source of the voice.

Slouched in an armchair, his features half shadowed from the light of the fire, was a hedgehog.

Amy’s heart nearly stopped in her chest.

“Sonic?” she breathed.

But no, it wasn’t Sonic – the hedgehog looked very much like him but his fur was green, not blue. A golden crown teetered lazily atop the mess of quills on his head and one ear was studded with a pair of golden rings. Painted on his face was a dark scowl that made Amy shiver; even though this hedgehog resembled Sonic, she couldn’t imagine someone as famously kind as Prince Sonic wearing an expression like that.

“Briar Rose,” Knuckles began, “this is Prince Manic, brother of Prince Sonic.”

So that is why they look so alike, Amy thought.

As she lowered herself into an uneasy curtsy, she tried to remember what she knew of Prince Manic. She didn’t know much, except that when Prince Sonic and his siblings were sent away for their own protection, Manic was stolen away by thieves looking to ransom him. Instead of being raised by a highborn family like his brother and sister, Manic grew up in the dark underbelly of the city amongst thieves and pickpockets and other criminals. Like Sonic, he had gone missing but that was nothing unusual for him – he had always preferred to stay in the shadows while his more genteel siblings absorbed the limelight, and in any case it seemed that he was always on the run after some unfortunate infraction of the law or other.

“This is why it was so important to meet you today, Briar Rose,” Knuckles went on. “The Resistance might not have been able to find Prince Sonic, but we’ve found Prince Manic. And as the next in line for the throne, our mission is now to overthrow King Shadow and make Prince Manic our king.”

Knuckles’ violet gaze suddenly fell on her with an unexpected intensity.

“That’s where you come in, Briar Rose. We would like you to marry Prince Manic.”

Amy was so shocked by Knuckles’ statement she felt as though the breath was knocked from her chest.

“What?”

“Look, I know this is sudden,” Knuckles growled, “but the Resistance think that this is what is needed to secure our victory. We haven’t been blind to how much support King Shadow has been garnering lately, and that is because of you – and the potential you bring, as a hedgehog, for a royal baby. By marrying Manic, you will help rally the common people to his cause for the same reasons. And it will benefit you, too,” he added. “It will help you escape King Shadow and protect you from his wrath. And…”

Knuckles trailed off. He suddenly looked very awkward, Amy realised.

She narrowed her eyes. “What is it? Say it, Knuckles.”

“Well – you see – the thing is…”

“The Resistance think you are a traitor for marrying King Shadow,” Manic finished brusquely.

Amy whipped her head over to him in alarm, her eyes wide. “What?” she demanded. “I’m no traitor!”

“I know, Briar Rose,” Knuckles said quickly. “You only married King Shadow because he forced you to – didn’t you?”

Now it was Amy’s turn to look awkward. “Well, he didn’t exactly force me,” she mumbled.

“So which one is it?” Manic hissed, narrowing his eyes. “Either he did, or he didn’t.”

Amy took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said, “he didn’t. But I only chose to marry him because he promised to grant some concessions to the Resistance if I did. I did this for our cause.”

Manic scoffed. “If you think someone as ambitious as King Shadow will cede power to the Resistance, then you’re even more naïve than I thought you were.”

“Perhaps I am naïve,” Amy countered, “but I am no traitor.”

“And yet here you stand,” he spat, “with King Shadow’s emblem hanging from your neck.”

“But this is why it’s so important for you to marry Prince Manic,” Knuckles cut in urgently. “It will clear your name and prove you are no traitor. But if you stay by his side, the Resistance may kill you once they overthrow Shadow.”

Amy stood there, utterly stunned by the words she was hearing. Neither Knuckles nor Manic nor anyone in the Resistance had experienced the horror she had endured for the past few months. She had been stolen away from her family, forced to live as a prisoner of the monster who had killed so many of her friends. She had made the impossible choice between her own death and the eternal torture that was life as his wife. And in choosing the latter, she’d had her future ripped cruelly away from her; soon, she would consent to be violated in the worst way possible in order to provide him with the heir he was promised.

All this she had done for the Resistance. And now they were calling her a traitor?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Prince Manic.

“Come here,” he commanded.

Amy obeyed and stepped forward until her features were illuminated by the warm light of the fire. Manic studied her lazily from his armchair.

“Pretty,” he mused. “Have you consummated the marriage yet?”

Amy’s cheeks reddened; she was taken aback by the boldness of his question. “N-No, my lord.”

“Good,” he growled. “That means the marriage will be easy enough to annul and more importantly, you’re still pure. The Resistance could surely not expect me to marry King Shadow’s used goods.”

Indignation rose within Amy. The entitlement of this hedgehog – the presumption that he could simply present himself and be awarded with a crown, a wife and an heir – was astonishing.

Worse than that was the eagerness of the Resistance to abandon the hunt for Prince Sonic. She thought of Princess Sally Acorn, unwavering in her belief that Sonic was alive and the rightful king of the country; Sally, who refused to even take the name of queen until her father was found.

She turned back to Knuckles, her ears flat against her head. “Knuckles, this isn’t right. We are supposed to be looking for Prince Sonic – that has always been the main mission of the Resistance. We can’t just give up on him like this.”

“We have been looking for Sonic for years, Briar Rose,” Knuckles growled, his voice laced with frustration, “and we are still no closer to finding him than when we began. If we don’t consider our alternatives now, then King Shadow will never be defeated.”

“And what’s all this I hear about you blowing up a hospital?” Amy suddenly demanded. “Killing innocents, orphaning their children? Was that one of the alternatives you considered so you could defeat King Shadow, too?”

Amy stood with her fists clenched, hoping – praying – that Knuckles would tell her it wasn’t true; that it was simply a lie perpetuated by the Dark Empire to weaken support for the Resistance. But when she saw the look of guilt cross Knuckles’ face, she knew her answer.

“Killing innocents is never our preference,” he admitted in a low growl. “But we have no choice sometimes, Briar Rose. The Resistance has neither the strength nor the numbers to face the Dark Presence out in the open. This is the only way we can hope to make King Shadow agree to our demands. We bitterly regret every innocent life lost, but thousands more will die the longer King Shadow enforces his brutal regime on his people. That is why it is important we rally the people around Prince Manic, and finally end this war once and for all.”

Amy met his gaze, her expression hard. “No,” she said coldly. “Killing innocents is never acceptable, Knuckles.”

Knuckles held Amy’s gaze. The silence was broken only by Manic’s soft chuckle.

“Oh, you pretty little idiot,” he murmured.

Amy rounded on him, gritting her teeth; but Knuckles took a step forwards, placing himself between them.

“Enough talk of this,” he said. “Briar Rose, have you found anything useful while being held in King Shadow’s fortress?”

Amy hesitated. For the first time, she started to question her loyalties to the Resistance. She had remained steadfastly dedicated to them throughout; even though she was now married to their greatest enemy, she was still fighting for their cause. She had even urged Tails to stay loyal to the Resistance. Now, she was beginning to wonder whether Tails had been right after all.

In the end, she decided to share what she knew. “King Shadow’s brother, Mephiles,” she began. “He’s keeping some strange, mystical flame within the castle. I don’t really understand what it’s all about, but he said that when he’s finished with it, he’ll hold the power of a god – that the Dark Empire’s reign will be secured forever.”

Knuckles nodded. “Thank you, Briar Rose. I’ll report back to the Resistance and see what we know about it.”

Amy glanced at the window. The thin sliver of the moon was sinking in the sky.

“I’d better get back,” she said, “before King Shadow wakes up and notices I’m gone.”

The red echidna nodded again. “Very well,” he said. “Go carefully, Briar Rose, and stay sharp. The Resistance will be in touch with you soon.”

Amy bid them goodbye and began the walk back to her bedchamber. She creaked open the door as quietly as she could; to her relief, Shadow was still asleep on the floor, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. She did not want to think what might have happened had he woken.

As she crawled back into bed, she reflected unhappily on her situation. She could not help but harbour the distinct impression that she was being used, like some pawn in a game. Both the Resistance and the Dark Empire were treating her like some kind of broodmare, because she’d had the poor fortune to be born a hedgehog at a time when hedgehogs were being culled in their masses.

If she were going to be treated as a broodmare, would it be better to be the wife of King Shadow or Prince Manic? She held no great love for Prince Manic after his appalling show of manners just now, but surely anything was better than enduring a lifetime as the glorified prisoner of her tyrannical king. She had married Shadow in an attempt to aid the Resistance – unappreciated as it was – but she could serve that purpose equally well by marrying their favourite for the throne.

And yet there was something about King Shadow that gave her pause. He was cruel and ambitious and horribly possessive. He had killed Cat and maimed Tails. But he had shown concern for her wellbeing many times over. He had respected her wishes when she’d told him she was not ready to lay with him yet. He defended the poor and the needy. There was something solid and stable about the uncompromising way he exacted his principles – something that felt infinitely more attractive to Amy than the woolly excuses Knuckles had presented when defending the murder of innocents.

Eventually, she decided to push the thought from her mind. The Resistance had told her they would be in touch; there was nothing she could do about it until then. She rolled over and pulled the covers tighter around herself. For now, she was married to King Shadow, and she was going to serve her people as best she could as his queen and wife.

Amy awoke with a start to find Shadow standing over her bed, already up and dressed in his crown and cloak.

A wave of fear coursed through her body. Had Shadow discovered she’d crept out to meet with the Resistance last night? She searched his red eyes for any traces of anger, but found only a faint glimmer of discomfort.

“I’ll wait outside while you… dress,” he said awkwardly.

He left. Amy pulled on her clothes and readied herself for the day, then met Shadow outside. His eyes narrowed suspiciously when he saw her.

“What took you so long?” he demanded.

Amy glanced at him, almost affronted at his lack of trust in her. Then she remembered that she had snuck out last night to meet with the Resistance and his lack of trust in her was reasonably well-founded.

“Nothing,” she said defensively. “It simply takes longer for a woman to ready herself for the day, that’s all. We have far more clothes to wear than men do.”

Shadow gave a dissatisfied grunt.

“If you don’t like it,” she said with a sidelong glance, “I can always decree that women are to wear no clothes at all, like in the Kingdom of Acorn. It would certainly make my mornings easier.”

“I would die with a sword in my heart before I let another man’s gaze fall on your body, little rose.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He led her to the airship waiting outside. They flew to a new town and spent the second day of their honeymoon in much the same way as the first: the townspeople greeted them in equal parts fear or adoration while King Shadow showed Amy all the things he had built since coming into power – the schools, the hospitals, the soup kitchens. Shadow once again slept on the floor of the inn they stayed at, leaving Amy to take the bed.

But the day after, Amy was surprised when they did not leave for a new town. Instead, Shadow led her and a small band of Dark Presence guards to the lush, rolling countryside on the outskirts of town. He eventually stopped by a lake in a secluded valley. He commanded the Dark Presence to guard and patrol the perimeter; then he nudged Amy towards a rowboat at the edge of the lake.

Amy hesitated. Shadow held out his hand; Amy took it, then stepped carefully into the rowboat. Shadow clambered in after her – the boat rocked precariously under his weight – and began to row them away from the edge, his muscles rippling under his black fur as he pumped at the oars.

Amy wondered if perhaps he was taking them to some remote location that could only be reached by boat.

“Where are we going?”

“We aren’t going anywhere, little rose.”

“Then why are we rowing across a lake?”

“Because it’s our honeymoon,” Shadow replied in a low growl, “and I wanted to spend some time with my wife.”

“Oh,” Amy said. So Shadow is simply rowing us across a lake for the fun of it. 

With that established, Amy relaxed and began to look around. It was a hot day in late summer; sunlight glittered on the water like liquid gold while dragonflies swooped and hummed just above the surface. In the distance she could hear the faint, rhythmic lap of the lake against the bank. Wind moved through the lush green grasses to stir her quills, carrying with it the heavy perfume of wildflowers.

She pressed her wineskin absentmindedly to her lips, letting the sweet golden liquid coat her tongue. After a moment’s hesitation, she offered it to Shadow; he accepted it and drank gratefully.

“It’s beautiful here,” she murmured, half to herself.

Shadow followed her gaze. “My grandfather used to take us here during the summer.”

Amy’s ears pricked up; Shadow rarely spoke of his family. “Really? I didn’t know that. Can you tell me about him?”

Shadow stiffened – the way he always did whenever the matter of his family came up, Amy noticed. “There’s nothing of interest to say.”

“It’s interesting to me.”

“We are changing the subject, Rose.”

Amy frowned. The inequality in their knowledge of one another was stark. Through his incessant questioning and his arrival at her father’s cottage uninvited, Shadow had managed to prise a great deal of information about Amy’s family out of her – what Amy had liked to do with her family as a child; how her mother died; her father’s struggle with long asthma. Yet aside from his twin brother Mephiles, Amy knew next to nothing about her husband’s kin. Now the mystery surrounding his family stretched before her: some dark, nebulous entity that Shadow fiercely guarded for reasons unknown to her.

“Shadow,” she said, “I don’t know why you are so evasive about your family, but the fact remains that we are married. There should be no secrets between us.”

“A husband is not obliged to tell everything to his wife.”

“No,” she countered, “but when you asked for my hand in marriage you promised to make me happy. How do you expect this to happen when you insist on keeping distance between us?”

The black hedgehog paused. He looked away. She could see unhappiness dancing in his crimson eyes.

Then his shoulders sagged. “Fine, little rose,” he sighed. “I will tell you about my family.”

Shadow licked his lips. There was another pause; he seemed to be grasping around for the words to say. Amy waited patiently, her hands resting neatly in her lap.

“You already know of my brother, Mephiles,” he said at last. “But he was not my only sibling. I had a sister, too. Her name was Maria.”

Amy’s ears flicked forward with interest, but she said nothing, waiting for Shadow to continue.

“From the very beginning, Maria and I were inseparable,” he went on. “My mother and father were originally going to name me Terios, but when they saw how much I doted on Maria, they changed their mind. Maria had beautiful golden fur – golden as sunlight – and I was this little black shape that followed her around like a shadow. That is why my name is so different to that of my siblings.

“But Maria was born small, sickly. Many thought she was not live to see adulthood. But I loved her dearly and her frailty only made my urge to protect her stronger. Even though I ultimately failed to do that.”

Amy could tell that speaking about Maria was painful for Shadow. She decided to change the subject.

“Who were your mother and father?” she asked gently.

“My mother died when I was very young,” Shadow admitted. “I cannot remember her. My father was a hedgehog known as Black Doom.”

He tensed. Amy noticed Shadow began rowing the boat vigorously – almost angrily.  

“Black Doom was… a poor excuse for a father,” he managed. “He mostly left Maria alone, thankfully, but he was very cruel to me and Mephiles. I’ve often wondered why,” he added wryly. “Perhaps he hated himself so much that he couldn’t stand the sight of us, because we reminded him of himself – he was big with black striped fur, like us. I’ve long given up on trying to find an answer.”

Amy frowned. For all the hardship she had endured, she had at least known the love of her mother and father. She could not imagine her own parent – the person who was supposed to love and cherish and care for her unconditionally – being the cause of her suffering.

“As I grew older, I began to stand up to my father. When he realised I was too strong for him to push around, he left me alone. But it seemed that whatever abuse he spared me from, he inflicted twice as harshly on Mephiles. He was… particularly cruel to my brother during this time,” Shadow confessed. “But it wasn’t until he raised a hand against Maria that I knew we needed to leave. I fled with my siblings and never saw my father again. The last I heard was that he was murdered by Doctor Eggman during one of his hedgehog culls.”

Amy said nothing; she was unsure what, if anything, she ought to say. Ordinarily she might have told him she was sorry for his loss, but somehow she did not think Shadow was particularly sorrowful about his father’s death.

“We went to the home of my maternal grandfather, Gerald. We often spent summers with him as young children so I knew he was kind. He took us in, and for a while things were peaceful. He doted on Maria, and he treated me as a son. But Mephiles struggled to settle.”

Amy cocked her head to the side. “In what way?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Shadow said, “but it became increasingly apparent that Mephiles’ behaviour was… odd. For example, our grandfather was a scientist. One day he came home to find that Mephiles had gotten his hands on some poor Flicky bird. He’d cut it open while it was still alive and splayed its ribs and entrails out across the table. And Mephiles came running up to him all excitedly and cried out, ‘Look, grandfather! I did an experiment so I could be a scientist, just like you.’

“Our grandfather was furious when he saw what Mephiles had done. It was the only time I ever saw him truly angry. He told Mephiles he was a cruel, wicked boy. Mephiles just slunk off sulking, but it was like he didn’t really understand what he’d done wrong. Sometimes I wonder if my father’s mistreatment of him altered him in ways we couldn’t understand.”

“Perhaps…” Amy mused, frowning.

“Another time, there was an incident with one of the girls in the village. I don’t know precisely what happened, but the girl was very upset and her father came to speak to Gerald about it. When grandfather questioned him, Mephiles just said that he was only playing around with her. But after that incident, he began to acquire a reputation. The villagers called him Mephiles the Dark.”

 So that is how he got his name, Amy thought.

“Aside from that, we mostly lived in contentment. That was until my grandfather came home and told us that Prince Sonic, the heir to the throne, had disappeared and a man known as Doctor Eggman had taken control. At first it seemed like some faraway problem, of little consequence to me. But the Eggman Empire’s reach crept ever closer to our village. First the farm that served our village was concreted over and turned to factories. Then food became scarce; for a time I felt guilt for ever imposing myself on my grandfather, when he barely had enough food to feed himself. Then the bandits came: hungry, desperate opportunists who fancied their chances against us if it meant bread or coin. Thankfully, many spotted that Mephiles and I were now living at the cottage and decided they would take their chances elsewhere; it was through this that I assuaged myself of the guilt of burdening my grandfather, for an old man living alone would stand no chance against bandits.

“And then Maria grew very sick. I did not know the name for her illness at the time, only that she was so frail she barely had enough strength to let out the coughs that racked through her body. Now, we know her condition as long asthma – a disease of the lungs caused by the pollution of the Eggman Empire.”

Shadow ceased his rowing. He flattened his ears and screwed his eyes shut, as if experiencing physical pain. 

“And then finally, the Eggman Empire came to our door. Doctor Eggman shot and killed my grandfather. He… hurt Maria,” Shadow said with some difficulty, “and then he shot her and left her for dead. Mephiles hid under the table; I’ve no doubt that if Eggman had seen my brother, he would have shot him, too.”

“But he left you alive?”

“Yes,” Shadow said wryly, “a mistake that would ultimately cause his downfall. I’ve no doubt the sick bastard took some twisted joy in leaving me alive so I could live with the pain of seeing my family die right before my eyes.

“Maria died in my arms. Before she passed away, she made me promise to look after Mephiles. And then the light left her eyes, and I was filled with grief and rage so powerful it threatened to consume me. And I welcomed it.”

Then Shadow turned away.

“You know how the rest of the story goes,” he mumbled.

For a moment Amy simply sat there, stunned at all she had heard. Amy suspected that Shadow had experienced some hardship – they had all suffered under the Eggman Empire, and something must have driven him to kill Doctor Eggman – but she had not been prepared for the sheer scale and intensity of it. It was one thing to have lost a loved one, but to have known only pain from such a young age was quite another. His mother dead, his father a tyrant, his brother depraved; his only light in the darkness, his sister Maria, cruelly snatched away from him by a sadistic murderer.

Is it any wonder Shadow has grown into the man he is? Amy wondered darkly.

Shadow seemed to be having the same thought.

“I know I can be… protective of you,” he said in a low growl. “But I cannot lose you like I lost Maria, Rose. I failed to protect the one I loved before, and I will tear down every house and burn whole cities to the ground before I allow that to happen again.”

Amy met his gaze. “You aren’t going to lose me,” she said. “The Eggman Empire is long gone, Shadow. We have nothing to fear anymore.”

“I am not talking about the Eggman Empire,” Shadow said coldly, and Amy swallowed as she understood his meaning.

Then he lifted his head to the sky. A soft breeze ruffled his upturned quills.

“But I cannot deceive myself into thinking that my dark nature is entirely because of Maria’s death,” he murmured. “I am no fool, Rose. For all my efforts in acting just and principled, I know that underneath the surface, I am every bit as dark and monstrous as my father. His blood runs through my veins; I cannot escape my true nature.”

Amy shifted awkwardly. “I’m sure that isn’t true…” she mumbled insincerely.

“Isn’t it?” Shadow’s red eyes flashed dangerously at her. “Do you have any idea what I wanted to do to you when I found you in the woods that night, at my feet and completely powerless under me, your torn clothes exposing snatches of your beautiful body? Do you know how much self-restraint it took not to take you there and then? How much self-restraint it is taking even here, even now?”

A prickle of dread crept up her spine at his words – only to subside as quickly as it had come. Amy knew with absolute, unwavering conviction that Shadow would not hurt her.

It felt entirely different to the experience she’d had speaking to Prince Manic and the Resistance the previous night.

She met his gaze unflinchingly.

“You are not your father, Shadow,” she told him firmly. “It isn’t the blood that runs through your veins that determines who you are – it is the choices you make. Even if it was…” Amy rested her hand on his. “The fact that you strive to overcome your true nature makes you more noble to me, not less.”

Shadow blinked at her. He looked as if he were seeing her for the very first time.

“Yes,” he mumbled with some surprise. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

They continued the rest of their journey in silence. Amy would have liked to ask more questions about his family, but she knew it had taken a lot from Shadow to share his past with her, and she did not want to push him unduly. Instead, she simply stared at the black hedgehog sitting across from her. His past did not excuse the atrocities he had committed, she reflected – but it certainly made her understand him better.

Shadow moored the rowboat on the other side of the lake. Ahead of them was a line of trees that marked the edge of some woodland.

Shadow led them into the woods. The trees provided welcome shade from the sweltering late summer’s day, but sunlight still danced in dapples on the forest floor. A warm breeze weaved through the thick pale trunks of the sycamores and stirred their branches.

He stopped in the middle of a dusty clearing.

“Take out your hammer,” he commanded her. “It’s time for our sparring lesson.”

“A sparring lesson,” Amy pouted, “now? We’re supposed to be enjoying our honeymoon.”

“You promised to train with me in exchange for free reign of the castle,” Shadow reminded her in a growl. “Take out your hammer.”

Amy rolled her eyes and armed herself with her bronze war hammer. She really was not feeling inclined to spar at that moment.

As Shadow busied himself with sharpening his greatsword, Amy found herself possessed by a silly, unserious mood. On an impulse that Amy could only attribute to the heat, the wine and the uncanny resemblance of her surroundings to the enchanted forests of her beloved fairytales, Amy pointed her war hammer at Shadow and struck a pose. 

“Halt, Sir Lancelot!” she cried. “I challenge thee to a duel for possession of my sacred blade, Excalibur!”

Shadow glanced up at her uneasily. “What are you talking about, Rose?”

She thwacked him on the shoulder with her hammer. “Silence, fool! I am not Rose but Nimue, Lady of the Lake. Accept my challenge if you so dare or flee in shame with thy tail betwixt thy legs!”

Confusion hovered in his red eyes for a moment; then understanding seemed to dawn on him.

“I would be honoured to accept your noble challenge, my lady,” he finally responded. His voice was faltering, uncertain – as if he could scarcely remember what it was to play.

“Huzzah!” Amy cried.

And before Shadow could react Amy had darted forward, raining swift blows upon him with her hammer. Shadow parried her strikes swiftly yet with a surprising gentleness; it was clear that he was only playing with her as part of their game. Amy grinned when her hammer glanced off his metal shoulder plate.

“A novice mistake!” she declared, delighting in her victory. “Is thou a Knight of the Round Table or a milkmaid?”

A glint of mirth danced in Shadow’s eyes. “I was merely performing the chivalrous act of allowing the lady the first strike.”

Shadow intensified his attacks, forcing her back. She panted with the effort of meeting his blows but could not keep the smile off her face as they engaged in their deadly dance. She could see the faintest hint of a smile on Shadow’s face, too.

At last she saw an opening. Amy struck Shadow in the chest with her hammer. He let out a grunt of pain and collapsed onto the ground.

Amy waited for him to get up, grinning, but Shadow did not move. Her smile fell slightly. She hadn’t hit him that hard – had she?

She took an uneasy step forwards him. He lay there in the dirt, his eyes closed and his red cloak twisted around his body like a serpent.

“Shadow?” she breathed.

His lips fluttered; she heard the faintest sound come from between them.

She immediately fell to his side. “Shadow?” she repeated, more urgently. “Are you all right?”

He lifted one eyelid just a crack.

“I am dying,” he declared softly. “Thou hast killed me.”

Relief flooded her body. He was still playing their game.

“If it please my lady,” he continued with mock sombreness, “I would ask that thou speeds me along to the afterlife with a kiss, as my dying wish.”

Amy smiled. “Thou hast put up a most noble fight, Sir Lancelot. I would be honoured to oblige thy request.”

She bent over him, her quills falling over his face. But before their lips could touch, Shadow suddenly grabbed her.

“A feint,” he cried, a devilish look dancing in his eyes. “The battle is not over yet, my lady!”

Amy shrieked and scrambled away, unable to contain the high-pitched giggles spilling from her lips. Shadow pursued her, following her as she weaved between the trees. He was laughing, she realised – a low, rich sound that seemed to shake the woods.

She darted behind a tree. Then she jumped out, ready to face Shadow head on.

Except it was not Shadow standing before her. It was a weasel bearing the flag of the Resistance. And he was pointing a knife at her.

Shadow was standing some lengths away, his sword drawn and his lips pulled back in a snarl. More Resistance rebels were emerging from the trees and shrubs, a jumble of weapons cobbled together between them – rusty daggers, stolen axes – but all pointed firmly at Shadow and Amy. Amy instinctively backed closer to Shadow. There must have been nearly a dozen of them, Amy realised; more than they could take comfortably if it came to a battle.

And why should it come to a battle? Amy told herself. I am an ally of the Resistance. 

“Well, well, well,” the weasel drawled lazily, continuing to point his knife at Amy, “if it isn’t our beloved King Shadow and his royal slut.”

Amy tried to keep her voice light. “Friend,” she said, “I see you bear the flag of the Resistance. You must know my comrade Knuckles, who I fought alongside when I served in the rebellion.”

“Aye, I know him,” the weasel responded, “just as I know who you are. Briar Rose, I hear they called you – until you betrayed us to join King Shadow, that is.”

With a sinking feeling, Amy remembered what Prince Manic had told her the previous night. The Resistance think you are a traitor for marrying King Shadow.

“I am no traitor,” Amy retorted hotly.

Shadow flicked his gaze momentarily towards her.

“What is the meaning of this, Rose?” he snarled. “Did you arrange for the Resistance to ambush me?”

“No!” Amy gasped. “I had no idea they would be here – I had nothing to do with this…”

The weasel watched her with mild amusement. “Look at her,” he remarked. “The poor confused dear doesn’t even know whose side she’s on. Tell me,” he added with a dark look, “what was it that made you turn your back on us? Was it the gold and jewels he showered upon you? The irresistible opportunity to take power? Or could you simply not wait to open your legs for him?”

Shadow stepped protectively in front of Amy. “I am feeling generous today,” he snarled. “Leave now and perhaps I will decide to spare your miserable little lives.”

The weasel let out a hollow laugh. “Bold words from a hedgehog who finds himself hopelessly outnumbered by his foes. For someone rumoured to be so protective of his bride, you’ve left her worryingly out in the open.”

He flicked his tail at the rebels.

“It’s time to end this war. Kill them both.”

Before she could react, the rebel closest to her flew towards her with a yowl, dagger pointed at her throat – and then Shadow was before her in a flash of black, cutting the rebel down with a single swing of his sword. A second rebel came, then a third and then a fourth; Shadow carved through them all as easily as a knife going through butter. Amy watched, as horrified as she was mesmerised. She realised just how much Shadow had been holding back in their sparring lessons together. He was a terrifying whirlwind of black.

Suddenly a Resistance member – a badger – jumped in front of her. Amy looked to Shadow for help but the black hedgehog was locked in combat with the other rebels. The badger was advancing on her, a determined glint in his eye. Amy backed away, her fingers closing anxiously around her hammer. She swallowed.

“Please,” she whispered. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her words fell on deaf ears. The badger’s face contorted with exertion as he swung his weapon at Amy.

She had no choice but to react. She screwed her eyes shut and swung her hammer, more in defence than anything else.

There was a sickening crunch. Amy opened her eyes and felt the bile rise in her throat.

Her hammer had gone right through his skull. There was a mangled mess of flesh where his face had been.

Oh gods, she thought with a pang of horror. What have I done?

There was no time to reflect on her actions – Shadow was trying to fend off half a dozen attackers, but even he could not take on so many rebels at once. Amy leapt to his aid. Now, there was no question of whose side she was fighting on; these people would not hesitate to kill her if she gave them the chance. She swung at the rebels with her hammer, but took care to make sure that her blows were not fatal. She struck one in the knee; he fell to the ground, wailing in agony and clutching at his snapped leg. She hit another in the ribs; he gave a hiss of fury, then turned tail and disappeared into the trees.

In spite of being outnumbered, Amy realised they were winning this fight. Her combat skills had improved markedly since she had started her battle training with Shadow – something she had not noticed or appreciated until now. That, and the fact that the rebels were more of a ragtag band of rogues than a proper army. She suspected that some of them had never swung a sword before in their lives.

A sudden movement caught her off guard. A Resistance member had knocked her hammer out of her hands. Amy turned and was faced with a squirrel who could not have been older than Tails. He brandished his dagger at her shakily, looking uncertain.

Amy met the squirrel’s gaze. He was just as afraid as she was.

She forced her voice to remain calm. “Put the dagger down,” she said. “You don’t have to do this.”

For a moment, Amy thought she saw the squirrel lower his weapon.

Then his face twisted in rage and he thrust the dagger towards Amy’s chest.

There was a flash of black. It was Shadow – he had jumped in front of Amy, mere moments before the dagger could make contact. Amy waited for Shadow to block the attack, to strike down the squirrel in one of his typical devastating ripostes. But instead there was a pause. She heard an odd strained sound emerge from Shadow’s throat.

When she looked she found that the squirrel had plunged the dagger into Shadow’s chest, just beneath the collarbone.

The squirrel looked just as surprised as she did. He backed anxiously away, leaving his dagger buried in Shadow’s chest. In the midst of the chaos, Amy took the opportunity to retrieve her war hammer. Then she whipped around to face the squirrel, her green eyes burning dangerously.

“Run,” she spat.

The young squirrel turned and fled into the woods.

The squirrel had been the last of the rebels; the rest had either retreated or lay dead on the ground around them. The immediate threat over, Amy dropped her hammer and rushed over to her husband. He had collapsed into a kneel.

“Shadow?” she said meekly.

His large black shape was trembling lightly. She could see that his teeth were gritted in pain. Thick red blood was clumping in his fur and pooling on the dusty forest floor.

With effort, the black hedgehog lifted his head and met her gaze. His eyes were desperate, vulnerable.

“Rose,” he rasped, “help me.”

Amy darted forward to save him. Then she stopped in her tracks.

Shadow, King of the Dark Empire, lay helpless at her feet. All it would take was one swing of her hammer, and she could finally end his brutal reign once and for all. The Dark Presence were around somewhere, and they would kill anyone who dared harm their king, but she could easily blame his death on the rebels that had attacked them. The Resistance would put Prince Manic on the throne and pardon her for any perceived wrongdoing, and order would be restored. Everything she had wanted – an end to King Shadow’s regime, a way out of her marriage to Shadow, a free Mobius – now lay suddenly within her grasp.

All she had to do was take it.

She looked at him: the black hedgehog who had grown hardened from years of abuse at the hands of his father, from watching his sister die before his eyes; the hedgehog who had risked the security of his kingdom because he wanted to respect her wishes; the hedgehog who had thrown himself onto a dagger to save her life. And she knew then that she couldn’t do it.

“Easy, now,” she murmured soothingly as she fell to his side. “Come, we need to get you back to the village.”

Putting his arm around her shoulder, she lifted him gently to his feet. He let out a grunt of pain. Then she began the long walk back to the lake, letting Shadow lean on her for support. It was difficult – he was larger than her and very heavy; their pace was agonisingly slow. She was relieved when they reached the rowboat; there, she could at least set Shadow down in the boat while she rowed them back to shore. He lay there lifelessly, face pointing upwards at the heavens, his eyelids fluttering as though he were drifting in and out of consciousness.

She ran into the Dark Presence on the other side. Their eyes stretched wide when they caught side of Shadow’s injuries.

“My king – my queen – what happened here?”

“The Resistance,” Amy responded grimly.

The Dark Presence stared at her blankly. They were waiting for her orders, she realised.

“You,” she said, pointing to one of the soldiers, “scout ahead to the village. Tell the Dark Presence guards there what happened and have them ready to treat King Shadow as soon as he arrives.”

The soldier nodded and darted in the direction of the village.

“You two,” she continued, pointing to the two biggest soldiers, “help me carry King Shadow back to the village. Be careful not to aggravate his injuries.”

The two soldiers nodded and sidled under Shadow’s arms, supporting him on either side.

“The rest of you,” she said, “go into the woods and see if you can find the Resistance members who ambushed us. Most died in the skirmish but some of them escaped. They will need to be tried for their crimes.”

“At once, my queen.”

Now she had the two soldiers supporting Shadow, their journey towards the village proceeded much more swiftly. When they finally arrived they found the rest of the Dark Presence waiting for them, along with a crowd of curious onlookers; the scout had done his job. They hauled Shadow up to his room in the inn before a Dark Presence medic began treating his injuries, cleaning the wound with boiled wine and applying a tight wad of bandages to stem the flow of blood. She assured them that the wound was not fatal so long as it did not become infected, and gave Shadow a tea made from poppy seeds to ease the pain.

Shadow reached for her weakly. “Rose,” he murmured, “don’t leave me.”

Amy caught his hand and held it tightly. “I won’t,” she promised.

After applying the last of the bandages, the medic explained there was nothing more she could do until it was time to change the dressing. Amy insisted on doing that herself; the medic looked fit to argue but Amy protested that she had been in the Resistance and she knew how to change some bandages. Besides, she added with a stern look, she was the queen. The medic could not argue with that, and so finally they were left alone.

The worst of the danger had passed. Shadow was stable, though still in considerable pain. Amy sat him up in an armchair and helped him with his dinner, bringing forkfuls of mutton to his lips so that he did not aggravate his injury by moving around too much; after that, it was time to clean his wound and change the dressing. Amy soaked a cloth in clean boiled water, then patted it gently on his chest. Shadow shrank away with a hiss.

“Be careful!” he snarled.

“Don’t you bare your teeth at me!” Amy snarled back. “I’m your wife, not one of your little Dark Presence goons.”

“But it hurts!”

“Injuries tend to do that,” Amy snapped. “Gods above! Who would have known that the King of the Dark Empire would be such a big baby?”

They glared at each other for a moment. Then the corner of Shadow’s mouth twitched. Amy’s twitched in response. And before she knew it they were both laughing together, her light, girlish giggles mingling melodically with his deeper tones.

“All right,” he relented. “Consider me suitably reprimanded. I promise I’ll sit still.”

“You had better,” Amy said playfully.

Amy cleaned his wound, then wrapped it in a fresh wad of bandages. It was remarkable, she reflected, how much the dynamic had changed between them. For most of the time she had known Shadow, she had been at his behest. Now, somehow, the tables had turned and the same king who had held her captive was reliant on her. It was strange seeing him so vulnerable, and Amy felt a newfound tenderness towards him blossoming inside her because of it.

Shadow seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “for saving my life, Rose.”

He met her gaze. It was then Amy realised that Shadow knew, just as well as she did, how close she had come to ending his life earlier.

She tried to dispel the awkwardness with humour.

“I had to,” she said, smiling. “If you’d died then Mephiles would’ve taken the throne – and I couldn’t let that happen.”

Shadow gave a bark of laughter. “Gods help us! I think I would’ve risen from the dead and joined the Resistance myself.”

“Anyway, I should be the one thanking you. You only landed this ridiculous injury because you tried to save me.”

His smile fell. The black hedgehog’s expression suddenly turned very serious.

“I would die a thousand times over you for, little rose,” he said. “Do you understand me?”

Before Amy could respond, they were interrupted by a Dark Presence soldier bursting into their room. Shadow rose sharply to his feet, his hand moving to his sword hilt.

“My lord – my lady,” he said hurriedly. “We’ve found one of the Resistance members who ambushed you earlier.”

Shadow’s face hardened. “Take me to him.”

The sun was setting when they exited the inn, bathing the town in a bloody red glow. A small crowd of townspeople had gathered in the town square, craning their necks forward, straining to see the show. A pair of Dark Presence soldiers were holding the arms of an individual who was struggling fruitlessly against them. Amy felt a stab of fear as she recognised his face. It was the weasel who had led the attack.

“Is this one of the rebels who attacked you, my lady?” a Dark Presence warrior asked.

Amy cast her gaze over him. The weasel glared back, a look of pure hatred in his eyes.

“Yes,” she breathed in a voice that didn’t sound much like her own. “That’s him.”

Shadow strode forward. Even wounded and bound in bandages, he looked utterly terrifying. The hedgehog that had been laughing and jesting with her earlier was gone: his face had turned cold and cruel; his eyes burned with rage. He drew his sword.

In spite of his contempt, Amy noticed the weasel begin to panic at the sight of the blade. He thrashed desperately but the Dark Presence held him tightly. To her surprise, he turned to Amy.

“You said you’re no traitor, didn’t you?” he demanded. “Prove it. Tell King Shadow to lay down his sword.”

Amy gazed at him wordlessly. She remembered the fear she had felt when the weasel had pointed his dagger at her.

The Dark Presence forced the weasel to his knees. Shadow’s shoes clacked against the paving stones beneath his feet as he approached the prisoner. The weasel’s voice grew more desperate.

“Tell him, Briar Rose,” he urged – he had used her Resistance alias, she noticed. “Tell him not to kill me.”

Shadow lifted his greatsword. The steel glinted in the dying light. The townspeople leaned forwards, seeming to hold their breath.

“Please!” the weasel pleaded. “Queen Rose, please!” 

Shadow fixed his murderous gaze down on the weasel. Then he plunged his sword into the rebel’s chest with so much force that blood spattered violently on Amy’s dress.

He withdrew his sword. The Dark Presence released their grip on the weasel. The rebel’s body fell lifelessly to the ground.

The Dark Presence began to leave, but Shadow spoke.

“Wait.”

The soldiers turned to him, a question in their eyes.

“Who led the patrol by the lake earlier?” he demanded softly.

A bear stepped forward – the same Dark Presence warrior who had helped carry Shadow safely back to the village. “Uh – it was me, my lord.”

In one devastatingly swift movement, Shadow beheaded the bear with his greatsword. A shocked gasp rose from both the townspeople and the Dark Presence. The head rolled limply on the floor.

“S-Shadow,” Amy stammered, “what in the world do you think you’re doing? He was one of your men!”

“He was charged with protecting you earlier and he failed,” Shadow snarled. “He is either a Resistance spy or he is incompetent. I will have neither in my ranks.”

He turned and strode back into the inn, his red cloak billowing behind him. And Amy was reminded that, despite the glimpse of vulnerability she had seen in him earlier, her husband was still King Shadow – violent, ruthless and utterly unpredictable.

It was time for them to go to sleep. Amy changed into her nightgown and climbed into bed, just as she had for the past two nights. But when she saw Shadow resume his usual position of sleeping on the floor, she frowned.

“Shadow,” she began reluctantly, “you know you can’t sleep on the floor tonight. Not with your injury.”

He flicked his ear. “Then I will try to sleep in the armchair.”

He took off his crown and gloves with little difficulty, but winced as he twisted to remove his cloak.

Amy leapt out of bed. “Here, let me help you,” she mumbled.

She went to his side; her fingers brushed his fur as she unclasped his heavy velvet cloak. She swallowed, trying to ignore his red eyes boring into her, trying to overlook the fact that she was technically undressing him. She folded his cloak and placed it neatly on the dresser while Shadow sunk into the armchair.

She glanced at him. He looked so ridiculously pathetic, hunched miserably on an armchair barely big enough to contain him, that she didn’t know whether to laugh or pity him.

Amy hesitated. She wrung her hands. Then she cleared her throat.

“Um,” she mumbled, “I suppose you could just share the bed with me tonight. If you want.”

Shadow gazed at her, his red eyes gleaming in the candlelight, his expression unreadable. She thought perhaps he was going to decline her offer, until he rose to his feet.

“Thank you, Rose,” he growled. “I appreciate your efforts to make me more… comfortable.”

For the first time ever, Amy got into bed with her husband. The mattress dipped under his considerable weight. She curled into a ball, bringing her knees up to her chest, afraid of what might happen if she touched him. She was sharing a bed with King Shadow, her sworn enemy, and it felt utterly bizarre. He is your husband, Amy told herself sternly. This was simply something that husbands and wives did; it was bound to happen sooner or later.

She blew out the candle on the bedside table and the room was plunged into darkness. Yet she could see Shadow watching her, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. She considered turning over so that her back was to him, but she found that she couldn’t pull away.

She shifted a fraction of an inch closer. The room was silent except for the sound of his breathing. She could feel his warm breath on her face, smell the natural musk hanging around his neck. She dared herself to reach a hand out.

Her fingers found the soft white fur of his chest. She was almost surprised at the touch; right now, in the darkness, it felt more like she was on the fringes of a dream than reality. Her fingers moved to brush the rough fabric of his bandages, under which lay his wound – the wound he had sustained to protect her. I would die for you a thousand times over. Her hand fell, running down the sleek black fur of his stomach. His muscles felt taut under his fur, like an arrow ready to fire. What was he so tense about?

And then a hand met hers in the darkness – it was Shadow, threading his fingers through hers. They came together in the moonlight, and Amy did not know if she was moving towards him or if he was pulling her closer or if they were both moving mutually closer to each other like the objects of some magnetic force. He was breathing heavily now and so was she – she could hear her own needy little gasps in the silence of the room – she could feel her heart pounding furiously in her chest.

And then their lips met and it was like the barrier was broken. She kissed him desperately, finding that she needed more of him – and he was only happy to oblige, a hungry growl rumbling in the back of his throat. She tangled her fingers in his fur – she needed to hold onto something – it was like she was in freefall, lost in the intoxicating storm that was King Shadow. A small voice in the back of her mind whispered a warning to her but this time, she was not strong enough to fight it.

They were a tangle of limbs and teeth. His mouth found her lips, her neck, her breasts. His fangs pierced her skin, marking her as his own. She could feel his desire pressing against her, just as she could feel her own desire pooling in her belly. She couldn’t suppress the moans that escaped her lips – she wanted him – she needed him…

He positioned himself on top of her. Amy gazed into his eyes and saw a million things there – devotion, lust, possessiveness, vulnerability.

“Is this what you want, Rose?” he murmured. “Once I start, I won’t be able to stop.”

She gave the tiniest of nods.

And then Shadow pushed himself inside her, and the marriage was consummated.

Chapter Text

The marriage was consummated. Shadow thought that finally laying with Rose would take the edge off his lust and dull the burning obsession he held towards her, yet his hunger towards her seemed to grow rather than lessen. Even more surprising was how Rose responded to the act. It was clear that Rose had acted on impulse that night, and he feared she would come to regret their union once the fog of their desire had lifted; yet to his surprise he took her again the next morning. Now they had lay together the intimacy came easily to them and they could scarcely keep their hands off each other. It was as if they had crossed some invisible threshold there was no coming back from.

Shadow only wished that they were as intimate outside the bedroom as they were within it. When he was inside her, he felt a closeness to Rose he had seldom experienced with any other person before. He craved the way she begged for him, because he wanted her to need him in the same way he needed her; he was addicted to the way she cried his name out over and over, because he wanted her to know she was his. Being inside her simply felt right in a way he could not articulate; it was as if she were made for him, and he for her. It was a world away from the whores he used to slip into his bedchamber in the small hours of the night; a world of guilt and shame and bitter regret, where sex was a dirty thing and not the spiritual experience it was with his wife.

Perhaps even better than the act itself was that which came after. Because afterwards, for a brief period, Rose would allow her mask to slip. She would hold Shadow, and was content to let him hold her. They would kiss – not the rough, impassioned kisses that had brought them together earlier but soft, sweet, gentle kisses. Sometimes they would talk in hushed tones to each other – it was rare they would talk of anything of importance, and usually Shadow had little time for idle conversation, but the sound of Rose’s voice was pleasing to his ear. And for that brief period, Shadow would delude himself that his wife loved him like he loved her.

And then the walls that had come down would rise back up. Rose would turn cold, distant: she no longer wished to speak to him; she would not touch him. They were no longer husband and wife, but king and prisoner again. Shadow was reminded of the way he was with his whores; full of heat and desire one moment and then cold and disgusted the next. He might have won over Rose in body, but he had not won her over in mind.

They returned to the castle shortly after the Resistance attack. Shadow was too injured to continue their tour of the kingdom and besides, he would not risk another attack on Rose’s life. In another life he would have left the running of his kingdom to his brother, Mephiles, in his absence; as it happened he was blessed with a brother who had more interest in killing Flickies than running a kingdom, so instead he had entrusted Rouge with keeping things in order while he’d been away.

He met with her on his return. As usual, the Dark Eyes commander knew about the Resistance attack before he even opened his mouth. He found the white bat perched on the desk in his office, waving an ornate fan at her breast.

“It’s so hot,” she whined when she caught sight of the black hedgehog. “Why did you decide to make the Dark Presence uniform black again? Everyone knows that black is the worst colour to wear in the heat.”

Rouge was right: it was very hot; Shadow could feel his own cloak sticking uncomfortably to his back. There was no sun, but heavy grey clouds had rolled in from the east and the air was thick and stifling. A storm was coming.

He ignored his discomfort and flicked his ear irritably. “Would you rather I dressed my forces in pastel pink?”

“Oh, don’t get sassy with me, Shadow,” Rouge retorted grumpily, “I’m hot and bothered and not in the mood. You’ve been a right royal pain in my rear these past few days, did you know that? Do you have any idea how difficult it’s been trying to silence all the rumours about the Resistance attack on you and Queen Rose the other day? How many newspapers burnt, how many tongues cut out?”

Shadow turned his back to her while he poured himself a glass of water. He would have preferred wine, but it was hot and wine would only aggravate his thirst.

“I suppose you think it’s my fault that I was attacked,” he remarked tersely.

Rouge gave a harrumph so big that her breasts jiggled with the effort of it.

“The attack alone I could have dealt with,” she said haughtily. “It was when you decided to execute the Resistance member in the street in front of dozens of witnesses that the rumours became utterly impossible to contain. What were you thinking?” 

“I was sending a message.”

“Wonderful idea,” Rouge declared, “if the message you wanted to send was that the king is so weak and defenceless the Resistance nearly killed him. Now the Resistance have come close to assassinating you, they’ll feel emboldened to try again – especially now you’re injured and vulnerable. What a relief that you have such a loyal and steadfast army protecting you from any future attacks – except you don’t,” she added savagely, “because you decided to behead the same Dark Presence soldier who saved your life in front of his comrades!”

“None of this should have happened in the first place,” Shadow snarled back. “The whole point of marrying Rose was to unite the Dark Empire and the Resistance. Yet the attack on her merely proved that the Resistance have turned against Rose, too. Your brilliant little plan has failed.”

“Oh, forget about quelling the Resistance,” Rouge said dismissively. “You will never change their minds. But my plan hasn’t failed yet – far from it. The people adore Queen Rose, and they’re ecstatic about the prospect of an heir. Once the baby arrives, the people will flock to you and the Resistance will lose support.”

Shadow paused. He took a sip of his water.

“I have some good news for you, then,” he said finally. “Rose and I have consummated the marriage.”

He thought Rouge would look pleased. Instead she looked at him expectantly.

“How many times?” she asked flatly.

Shadow balked at the impertinence of her question. “How dare – I hardly think –”

“Oh, don’t pretend to act the prude now,” Rouge said, “not when you were taking whores into your bed every week up until you married Rose. Believe it or not, you aren’t laying with Rose for your own personal pleasure; you are doing this to secure an heir. And you aren’t likely to secure an heir if you lay with her once and consider the job done. So I’ll ask you again: how many times?”

Shadow narrowed his eyes and pulled his lips back in a snarl. “Enough times,” he said.

“Wonderful,” Rouge said briskly, hopping off the desk and making her way to the door. “Then I’ll look forward to receiving news of your little bundle of joy sometime soon.”

As Rouge left the room, Shadow reflected wryly that the Dark Eyes commander would most likely find out before he did.

After dealing with the most pressing matters requiring his attention, Shadow prowled the palace in search of Rose. He tried to suppress the almost instinctual sensation of panic he felt when he couldn’t find her immediately. The last time Shadow had let Rose out of his sight she’d tried to escape; worse, he now knew with certainty that the Resistance wanted her dead. But Misty-Re would be with her, he told himself firmly, not only to protect her but to make sure she didn’t escape. Besides, Shadow hoped – perhaps wishfully – that he could trust her more now. Rose could have ran away after Shadow was attacked and vulnerable in the woods – she could have killed him, even. But she didn’t; she stayed by his side and nursed him back to health. That had to mean something.

He found her in the castle library, sprawled out on a chaise longue with a book. She was wearing a flowy white dress that cascaded in a pool of cotton around her, looking so effortlessly beautiful that even now, many months and a marriage later, the sight of her made his breath catch in his chest. Misty-Re was standing on guard a short distance away.

“There you are,” he said.

Shadow placed his hand on the back of her head and kissed her. Rose returned the kiss but it felt stiff, robotic – like she was only showing affection out of obedience. Shadow found himself missing the way she kissed him when they lay together: full of passion and wanting.

He pulled away.

“Come, little rose,” he told her. “There’s something I want to show you.”

She lifted her gaze slowly, disinterestedly, and stared at him for a moment. Then she let it fall back down to her book.

“I am busy reading,” she said flatly.

Shadow clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to suppress the irritation he felt at her impudent response. He was the king; he was accustomed to people bending to his every whim.

“This is an order from your king,” he managed through gritted teeth.

Rose turned a page in her book and did not look up.

“Yes, well, I’d like you to leave me alone to read my book,” she said carelessly, “and that is an order from your queen.”

In spite of his irritation, Shadow felt the corners of his lip twitching. His wife was quite the fireball; it was something he had always liked about her. He had no respect for cowards or flatterers.

“Then I am asking you as your husband,” he said. “And before you come up with some witty remark, I’d ask you to remember that you promised to obey me when we exchanged our wedding vows.”

Amy lifted her head and glared at him for a moment, her eyes dancing with an emerald-green fire. Then she gave an exaggerated groan and rolled off the chaise longue.

“Fine.”  

“Good girl.”

Rose pulled her cloak around her shoulders, fastening it with a pin in the shape of his emblem. Then she took the arm he offered her and went with him to the courtyard outside. A distant rumble of thunder sounded on the horizon.

Shadow took her to a secluded corner of the courtyard, where a path was blocked off by a wrought-iron gate. Retrieving the ornate brass key from his sword belt, he opened the gate with a creak.

An idea struck him. “Close your eyes,” he commanded.

Rose let out a sigh, but did as he asked.

Satisfied, the black hedgehog guided her down the path. He couldn’t help but enjoy her uncertain steps, the way she blindly clung onto his arm for support. For a moment, Rose needed him just as much as he needed her, and he relished it.

Shadow halted; they had arrived at their destination.

“Open your eyes.”

They were in a garden. A mossy path cut through patches of green, spongy grass. There were stone flowerpots all around but the flower beds were empty; instead wild roses bloomed defiantly, their tendrils snaking up the pale stone arch under which they stood. A little way away was a stone gazebo, which might provide some cool shade on a hot day. Even further away than that was a small stream, half-hidden by craning willows; it let out a pleasant tinkle as its water cascaded past small pebbles and lily pads. The storm broke; now a light drizzle began to fall, bringing out the earthy smell of wet grass and soil.

“This is my wedding present to you,” Shadow told her. “You said that you liked gardening,  before the Eggman Empire. This place used to be a mess of brambles, so I had the servants clear it away while we were on our honeymoon – though it looks like the wild flowers continued to grow anyway. It’s your secret garden, Rose – a place where you can plant flowers and eat cakes and read.”

He watched her expression carefully. He had brought her gifts before – the necklace she wore in the shape of his emblem, the Flicky bird from the Mystic Ruins – but she had tolerated them at best and downright disliked them at worst. He desperately wanted her to like this gift, so much so that he could feel his stomach tightening with apprehension. He had put significant thought into it: he knew she would appreciate the privacy it afforded.

Rose took in the garden wordlessly, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly ajar. Shadow touched her arm; she jumped, as if he had interrupted her thoughts.

He pressed the key to the garden gate into her hands and curled her fingers around it.

“I mean it, Rose,” he said in a low growl. “This is your garden. Nobody can get in or out unless you allow them.”

Her eyes fell, dumbfounded, to the key in her palm. Then she lifted her gaze to his face.

“Not even you?” she whispered.

Shadow’s heart twisted in agony. He wanted Rose to willingly share herself with him; he wanted it more than anything. In his mind he pictured Rose reading her book in the dappled shade of a willow tree while he gently stroked her quills, needing no book or thing to entertain him because simply being there in her presence was enough; he imagined them having lunch under the gazebo, Rose nibbling at the sugary cakes she so loved.

But he knew by now that he couldn’t force Rose to let him in – neither to the garden nor her heart. He could have a second key cut and come and go into the garden as he pleased but that would not make the things he dreamed about come true. If he tried to stroke her quills she would stiffen his touch; if he summoned her to lunch she would eat silently, morosely, the atmosphere as icy as if it were the height of winter and not a warm day in late summer. If he wanted Rose’s affections he would have to earn them – if it were even possible to earn them.

He met her gaze and let out a deep exhale.

“Not even me,” he repeated.

Rose turned the brass key between her fingers, mesmerised. Then she went to a plant pot, letting the dirt run between her fingers.

“I haven’t planted flowers since my mother died,” she said.

Her voice was distant. Shadow could not tell if she was pleased or not.

He went to her side. “I thought you might want to start,” he said softly. “You are my wife; this is your home now. I want you to make it your own.”

She slowly lifted her head to look at him in confusion.

“Shadow, I don’t understand,” she murmured. “You’ve married me. You’ve taken me. You got what you wanted. Why are you still trying to win me over?”

He frowned. Is this what she really thought – that their marriage was some purely transactional thing to him; that he was only trying to charm his way into the bedchamber and nothing more? Was it really so beyond her comprehension that he might genuinely care for her? Or was she still convinced that he was nothing more than a monster?

The black hedgehog lifted his hand to her cheek. “I know you don’t think I’m capable of love,” he said. “But I want to make you happy, Rose.”

“I don’t think you are incapable of love. Not anymore.”

“No?”

“No,” she said simply. “I think it is clear from what you told me about your sister that you loved her beyond words.”

Shadow blinked, surprised at the unexpected sentiment.

He shifted on his feet uncomfortably, feeling awkward.

“Do you like it?” he mumbled.

Her head snapped to him, and there was some strange expression in her eyes – like she was feeling joy and pain at the same time.

“Shadow,” she breathed, her voice strained. “It’s…”

Her chest heaved; words failed her. Then she threw her arms around Shadow and brought her lips to his in a kiss.

The effect on him was immediate; he felt the familiar heat rushing to his lower region. A growl rumbled in the back of his throat and he deepened the kiss, as if the taste of her was some addictive nectar to him.

It was raining heavily now. It had penetrated her cloak; her white dress clung to her dainty figure and he could see the soft pink buds of her nipples under the fabric. Shadow had no patience for sweet kisses and gentle touches. He needed her, now.

He hoisted her against the stone wall among the creeping roses and began to move her skirts aside.

“Shadow!” she hissed in his ear. “Not here!”

“Yes, here,” he murmured huskily into her neck.

“But we’re outside – someone might see us!”

“And so what if they do? I am the king, little rose. I could fuck you over the balcony in front of the masses if I wanted and there is nothing they could do.”

“But Shadow – hah…”

Her protests were lost in a moan as Shadow brought his mouth to her breast.

He pushed her undergarments aside and positioned himself at her entrance. He felt almost giddy with his desire for her. And as he gazed down at her, he reflected on how much he wanted to immortalise the way she looked in that moment; cheeks flushed, quills sticking to her face from the rain, her mouth parted and her eyes pleading for him to grant her the sweet release she so craved.

He pushed himself roughly inside her and took her there and then, amongst the raindrop-covered roses, her cries of ecstasy drowned out by the crashes of the thunder overhead.

After they had finished, Amy dressed herself in silence, pulling her smallclothes over her head. Her white dress sat in a sodden, muddy pile a little way away; she would need to change again once she returned to their bedchamber.

As she reached for the dress, a flicker of movement caught her eye. There, standing in the window of a room overlooking the garden, was Mephiles. She might have mistaken him for a shadow were it not for his piercing green eyes, hovering over her half-naked figure with an unreadable expression.

A feeling of unease settled over Amy. How long has he been standing there? she wondered. Had Mephiles seen her unclothed? Had he watched as his brother took her amongst the wild roses? Her gaze met his – and Amy felt her stomach churn in revulsion when she saw his lips curl in a knowing smile.

Even more unsettling was the realisation that Mephiles now knew Amy and Shadow were being intimate with each other. It should not have been a surprise to anyone – everyone knew Amy and Shadow had married with a view to securing an heir – and yet it confirmed beyond all reasonable doubt that Mephiles was at very real risk of being pushed down the line of succession. Amy would have liked to think that Mephiles would never harm her, nor any child she bore. Mephiles was her brother by marriage; her son would share his blood. But Amy found she could not satisfy herself of this prospect.

Shadow’s hand touched her shoulder, startling her.

“I can dress myself,” she snapped, more sharply than she had meant to. Shadow blinked at her, looking wounded.

Amy felt a little guilty, but she pushed it away and glanced back at the window. Mephiles was gone.

They returned to the bedchamber – their bedchamber, Amy reminded herself, now that they were sharing a bed. A handmaiden immediately rushed over to Amy upon seeing her wet quills and sodden dress, alarm painted on her face.

“My queen – you are soaked – you will catch a cold –”

“I am fine,” Amy insisted wearily. “It’s only a little rain. But I would be grateful if you could help me out of this dress and into some dry clothes for dinner, please.”

“At once, my lady.”

Amy allowed the servant to dress her. It was a needless exercise, Amy reflected, since she was more than capable of dressing herself; but she was a queen now, and was expected to take part in these silly rituals.

Outside, the summer storm raged relentlessly. Rain hammered against the glass window panes and now and then a flash of lightning would illuminate the room. They had probably seen the last of the pleasant summer days, Amy reflected; soon, autumn would come. The leaves would turn to shades of red and yellow and then fall to the ground; the roses would wilt and die. With any luck, there would be a plentiful harvest this year, though that was never guaranteed: the Eggman Empire’s factories had leaked foul, poisonous chemicals into the earth, contaminating the soil so that no food would grow there. At least Amy would not go hungry. That was one of the few benefits of marrying Shadow and becoming queen.

Had it really only been spring when Amy was brought to King Shadow as his prisoner? It was not so long ago and yet Amy could scarcely imagine what her life had been like before. She had come into his captivity kicking and screaming, a war hammer in her hand and a determination to fight him in her heart; now she stood beside him as his wife, her fire contained but not quite extinguished. She longer fought him or tried to run from him, but would she ever grow to like him or even love him? Amy did not know.

She chose to wear a red dress for dinner. Still feeling a little guilty that she had snapped at him earlier, Amy knitted her fingers through his and gave a weak smile.

“Shall we go down to dinner now?”

Shadow looked surprised, but pleased.

“Very well, little rose.”

Dinner was an opulent spread of far too much food for two people. Amy ignored the meat pies and steaming stews – it was far too hot for heavy food like that – and instead helped herself to a plate of cold meats, pickles and cheeses. She nibbled delicately at a chunk of bread, lost in thought, while a servant filled her goblet with elderflower wine. Her quills were still sticking to her forehead, but this time from the heat rather than the rain.

“You shouldn’t have killed that Dark Presence soldier,” she declared suddenly.

Shadow’s gaze flicked up from his plate. “Hm?”

“I said that you shouldn’t have killed that Dark Presence soldier. On our honeymoon, after the Resistance attack.”

Shadow flicked his ear irritably. “Don’t start lecturing me on this now, Rose – I’ve already had enough of this from Rouge this morning.”

“So even Rouge agrees that you should not have done it.”

“I did not think the life of some insignificant Dark Presence soldier would be such a thorn in my side.”

“Every life holds value, Shadow. But this is bigger than that. It is about whether your bloody executions have a place under my reign.”

“Rose, I have already explained my reasoning to you,” he said, the hint of a snarl in his voice. “You nearly died that day because he failed to protect you –”

“I know,” Amy said hurriedly, “and I’m not saying he should go unpunished. But you should’ve held a fair trial and, if you found him guilty, imprisoned him. You can’t just go around beheading people on a whim –”

“I am the king, little rose. I can do whatever I want.”

“And I am the queen,” Amy retorted, “and I’m telling you that I want executions abolished. After all, this is why we married, isn’t it? You promised that you would cede some political power to me in exchange for my hand in marriage.”

“And there I was thinking you married me because you were madly in love with me,” Shadow remarked drily.

“I’m serious, Shadow,” she said, an edge to her voice. “You got what you wanted: you married me. Now it’s time to hold up your side of the bargain.”

She met his gaze. There was the glimmer of a challenge in her emerald-green eyes.

“Or are you no longer a man of your word?”

Shadow held her gaze for a moment, his red eyes flashing dangerously.

“You know I keep my promises,” he said finally, his voice a low growl. “Do not test me, little rose.”

They glared at each other. Just like that, the tenderness they had shown to one another in the garden melted away like mist in the sunlight.

The servants reappeared to clear their plates, breaking up the worst of the tension. Amy pulled her gaze away from her husband and studied her reflection in her wine glass. She wore an expression of nonchalance, but inside her mind was whirring.

She still had the offer of marriage from Prince Manic. She no longer trusted the Resistance after the attack during her honeymoon, but she trusted Knuckles, and he had promised that by marrying Manic she would clear her name. Amy hoped that King Shadow would keep his word, but if he failed to grant her the political power he had promised her, she had no intention of remaining by his side. Perhaps he thought that now he had married her and laid with her, he had her under his thumb. But Amy had told him before: she didn’t belong to him, no matter what she’d told him in their throes of passion in the bedchamber. She didn’t belong to anyone.

Their intimacy was a strange thing she didn’t fully understand herself, she reflected as the servants brought out the desserts. Unlike Shadow, for her their lovemaking was a purely physical thing – no different to eating a dessert, she thought, selecting a powdery cream puff from the table. Like a dessert, at first it was something she craved. It was freeing to finally admit what she had always known: she wanted Shadow, wanted him to take her again and again until she was spent.

Afterwards Shadow would pull her into his arms, kissing her gently, a stark contrast to his rough, dominating nature just moments before. And Amy would be content to lay there awhile, languishing idly in their post-coital bliss. In spite of everything that had happened, it was in those moments that Amy felt a strange bond between them. Her worries about Manic and the Resistance seemed insignificant and far away: all she could think of was the hedgehog whose arms she lay in. She had served the Resistance but no-one knew her like Shadow had known her just now. A small voice in the back of her mind told her that she was just naïve little Amy Rose, getting caught up in her fairytales and dreams of romance once again; that in the morning things would be back to normal. But for now she would simply rest her head on Shadow’s chest fur, letting his gentle strokes lull her to sleep.

But like eating a dessert, after a while the sweetness became too rich, too sickly. The cream sat claggy on her tongue. And, as predicted, the tenderness and intimacy that she had until then been sharing with Shadow suddenly became too much. It was then that she would withdraw into herself, pretending that she didn’t see the look of hurt on his face that she had given him affection only to snatch it away again. She would be plagued with a storm of emotions: guilt that she had lay with the monster who had killed her friends; defiance at Prince Manic for claiming she was somehow impure for doing so; hope that this might be the act that would finally make her a mother. It would go on and on until Shadow looked at her or touched her in a certain way; then all her other feelings would be drowned by her lust, and the cycle would repeat.

Amy popped the last of the cream puff in her mouth. Some of the cream had seeped its way out of the bun and onto her fingers; she licked them absentmindedly, sucking the last few traces of sweetness from her fingertips.

After a moment, Amy noticed Shadow watching her intently. The black hedgehog’s eyes were glassy; his breathing was slightly ragged.

Amy recognised the expression. It was the one he typically wore right before he mounted her.

Feeling spiteful after their spat, Amy decided to have some fun. Locking gazes with Shadow, Amy made a show of sucking the cream sloppily from her finger, releasing her fingertip was a loud pop.

Shadow gazed at her with barely-disguised lust. Then he rose to his feet, the legs of his chair scraping noisily against the floor.

Within moments he was stood behind her chair, his thumbs massaging her shoulders. Amy noticed some of the servants scarper awkwardly out of the room: even they knew what was about to happen.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he muttered, his voice thick.

Wonderful – he was under her spell. This is when his infamous self-control was at its weakest, she had learnt.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, mopping up the last of the cream on a plate with her finger and popping it into her mouth. “If you aren’t going to consider abolishing executions now, can you at least consider granting me a companion? A lady-in-waiting, perhaps, or a handmaiden.”

Shadow closed his hand around her wrist and pulled her to her feet, catching her deftly in his arms. Amy could feel his desire pressing into her belly.

“I don’t want to talk about politics,” he growled darkly in her ear. “I want you upstairs in my bed, now.”

She glanced at him with a coy expression.

“That’s too bad,” she teased. “Because what I want is a companion.”

Shadow took her chin between his forefinger and thumb and tilted her head up to face him. His expression was dark, but Amy could not tell if he was being serious or playful.

“I can’t help but note the timing of your request,” he murmured, his voice dangerously soft. “Were you hoping to take advantage of me in the haze of my lust?”

“That depends,” Amy responded sarcastically. “Is it working?”

A thoughtful growl rumbled in the back of his throat; he grazed his fangs across her neck, brushing past the spot where he had marked her earlier. “I think perhaps I need another taste to decide…”

“Shadow…” Amy began, a slight edge to her voice.

Shadow gave a hiss of frustration and pulled away. “All right. What do you need a companion for?”

“Because I’m lonely.” The playful tone had vanished from her voice; now there was a note of sadness there. “I may be queen, but nobody around here will talk to me. I’ve tried to make friends, but everyone is too afraid of you to risk speaking with me. The only person who isn’t afraid to talk to me is Princess Sally, and she’s all the way in the Kingdom of Acorn.”

Shadow gazed at her for a moment, his expression softening. Then he wrapped his arms around her protectively and pulled her into the white fur of his chest.

“Hush, Rose,” he murmured into her quills. “I am the only companion you need.”

A spark of frustration rose in her chest. “It isn’t enough, Shadow.”

The black hedgehog paused. Then he let out an unhappy sigh and strode over to the great windows, watching the storm rage with his back to her. It was only a little after dinnertime but already the sky was darkening as the long days grew shorter, broad strokes of grey lingering above the vast green landscape beneath. Powerful gales tore across the grounds, bending the trees in the wind.

“When my injury has healed, I promise I will discuss your terms with you,” he said at last. “That does not mean I will agree to them,” he added darkly, “but I will listen to your proposals and consider them. Do you understand me?”

“Why not now?”

He shot a glance at her over his shoulder. His red eyes were cold.

“We may have been forced to return to the castle, but it is still our honeymoon. I wish to spend some time with my wife before having to concern myself with the burden of my kingly duties and obligations. Not even the Resistance will steal that away from me.”

He turned and advanced on Amy, his great black shape silhouetted against the pale backdrop of the storm clouds on the horizon. Amy backed away from him until her rear hit the table, making the crockery clatter.

“Perhaps we should go back to the bedchamber,” she whispered.

“It’s too late for that now,” Shadow growled, hoisting her up onto the table.

Silverware clattered to the ground. Crystal goblets rolled off the table and shattered into thousands of tiny shards around them, like stars in the night sky.

Chapter Text

Shadow was dreaming.

It was the same dream he had over and over. He was in his grandfather’s cottage. Maria was there. And Doctor Eggman was there, too.

It played out the same way it had that day. Doctor Eggman shot his grandfather; Maria screamed; Mephiles cowered under the table. Then Doctor Eggman proudly presented his latest robot: it looked like a fox, except it had steel instead of skin, and had two strange unnatural red lights were its eyes should have been. And Shadow’s heart sank when he realised that this was no ordinary robot: it was one of his neighbours from the village, who Doctor Eggman had roboticized.

Their shapes shifted and blurred, like paint on a canvas. Yet Shadow saw Doctor Eggman as clear as day: his grotesque, monstrous proportions, rolls of fat straining hideously against his jacket; his bulbous red nose, hovering above his distinctive moustache; his small, beady black eyes, half-hidden behind his spectacles, glittering with barely contained glee as he observed Shadow. Shadow became aware in the dream, just as he had in reality, that Doctor Eggman was taking pleasure in watching Shadow’s reaction to the murder of his family.

Doctor Eggman barked an order. And Shadow’s fear reached its peak when the roboticized fox began to violate Maria.

He lunged forward – but an Eggman robot held his arms behind his back while another held his head, forcing him to watch. The torture was relentless – Shadow thought it would never end – he screamed his sister’s name until his voice grew hoarse – he could barely hear himself over Doctor Eggman’s deranged laughter. And throughout the entire ordeal Doctor Eggman kept his eyes on Shadow, as though watching Shadow witness the torture was more entertaining than the torture itself.

The roboticized fox suddenly halted. Shadow sank to his knees, weak with relief that the torture might finally be over.

Then his ears pricked. Something was wrong, he realised. The roboticized fox began to whir and spin erratically. Doctor Eggman’s eyes finally left Shadow; he jabbed at a remote control, frowning.

And then to Shadow’s shock, the fox spoke. His voice sounded just as it had when he’d been a real, living creature.

“I don’t want to do this,” the fox pleaded despairingly. “Please, don’t make me…”

Doctor Eggman pressed another button – and the fox’s brief lapse into sentience was gone, replaced by a static crackle and the sound of metallic bones being snapped into place. But the interruption was enough to jolt Eggman from his twisted delirium.

“I tire of this game,” Doctor Eggman announced. “Finish her.”

The fox’s arm shifted and whirred as it reprogrammed itself into a minigun. Then it shot Maria.

The Eggman robots released their grip on him.

“Maria,” he cried.

Shadow did not even notice Doctor Eggman and his robots leave – instead he went to Maria, cradling her wounded, fragile form in his arms. Through his tears he could see the blood pooling on her dress, deep red against pastel blue. The bullet had gone through her heart.

He pressed a blanket against the gunshot wound, in a feeble attempt to stem the bleeding, but they both knew it was too late. Her hand found his and squeezed comfortingly – because that was so typical of Maria, that even while she lay dying her concern was with making sure that he was all right. She managed a small smile – because of course her priority was to show strength for him.

“It looks like it’s my time, Shadow,” she said simply. Her voice was soft, calm, like water flowing over pebbles.

Shadow hunched over her protectively, unable to stop the hot tears spilling down his cheeks and wetting his muzzle. “No – you can’t die, Maria. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She lifted her hand and wiped the tears from his cheek with her thumb. “Don’t be so upset, brother,” she murmured softly. “I was born a sickly child, remember. My life has always been spent in the shadow of death. Sooner or later you would have had to continue on without me.”

“I can’t continue on without you. I need you here with me, Maria.”

Her hand found the white fur of his chest and settled over his heart. For a moment, they grounded themselves in the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat.

“I’ll always be with you, Shadow,” she told him. Her voice was soft, yet firm. “In the stars you see; in the wind that stirs your quills; in the sunlight on your face – that’s where you’ll find me.” Her voice grew mischievous. “And if you misbehave, I’ll come and haunt you.”

Then she gave a deep, shuddering gasp, as if she were struggling to breathe. Her voice suddenly grew urgent – her hand gripped him tightly.

“But you have to promise me, Shadow.”

His red eyes met hers frantically. “Anything.”

“You have to look after Mephiles,” she whispered. “I fear for him, Shadow. He isn’t all right, and I worry that my death will tip him over the edge. He needs his brother to guide him and show him the light. Promise me, Shadow.”

“I promise,” he breathed.

Her smile returned. “I love you so much,” she sighed. “You’ll always be my little shadow.”

“I love you too,” Shadow said – but before he had even finished his sentence, Maria was dead.

First came the grief.

Then came the rage.

He rounded on the roboticized fox. Doctor Eggman had left it behind – perhaps because it had malfunctioned – and now it lolled idly in the cottage, awaiting orders. Shadow seized it with a roar of anguish and slammed it over and over against the wall, until its steel skin was dented and its screws clattered to the floor. He knew it was just a robot, that the living breathing fox that had once existed was long gone, but he needed to avenge Maria’s death somehow. With his bare hands he ripped at the metallic head until it was severed from its body. There was no blood and flesh underneath: just circuits and wires. It did nothing to assuage his anger.   

Her final words rang over and over in his ears. Promise me, Shadow. 

Shadow’s muzzle wrinkled in a grimace; his body shook with the might of his anguish.

“I promise you,” he snarled, “revenge.”

Shadow’s eyes snapped open. His hand immediately closed around the silver candlestick on the bedside table – he hurled it across the room before his mind had established the borders between dream and reality, before he realised that he was no longer under attack.

The candlestick struck his bedroom mirror and shattered it with a crash.

And suddenly Rose was beside him, her fingers tangling themselves in his black fur which was drenched in sweat; and as his back heaved with long shuddering gasps he did not know whether she was holding him or restraining him: “Shadow, it’s all right – I’m here – it was only a dream…”

The bedchamber door burst open and he was met with the Dark Presence soldier who had been guarding the room. “Is everything all right, my lord?”

Shadow leaned forwards, forcing himself to steady his breathing. “Everything is fine,” he rasped. “Return to your station.”

The Dark Presence soldier raised an eyebrow. “Would you like me to ask a servant to bring you another sleeping draught, my lord?”

His ears flamed with embarrassment. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Yes, my lord. Sleep well, my lord.”

The Dark Presence soldier left. Rose fell back to sleep almost instantly; Shadow settled back into bed and pulled her close, taking comfort in her warm body and rhythmic heartbeat. It would take some time for him to fall back to sleep without some wine or a sleeping draught, but it was always easier when he had someone in bed with him. He would never admit to Rouge that it was one of the reasons he used to invite whores into his bedchamber so often.

He was used to these recurring nightmares by now. Rose had been startled the first time it had happened but she had quickly grown accustomed to it, too. Sometimes in the dream he would save Maria, but then he would wake up and be reminded that she was gone. Once he dreamt that it was not Maria that died, but Rose.

Eventually he managed to drift into unconsciousness, but the black hedgehog spent the next morning in a state of numbness, more because he was tormented by his memory of Maria than from his lack of sleep. He sank his cup of bitter coffee as he pushed through his meetings, only half-listening to dull reports of budgets and harvests and Dark Eyes intelligence. His mind was not on the present, but in the dark days that followed Maria’s death. He left his thoughts drift to it now.

The brothel was a haze of sweat and cheap perfume. Muffled grunts and cries of ecstasy were drowned out by the clink of coins changing hands. Shadow ignored the whores eyeing him curiously and pressed on, passing through dark corridors and chiffon curtains. He was here on business, not pleasure.

It was the height of the Eggman Empire. Shadow was flanked by his two best men: Old Locke, a grizzled red echidna with a greying muzzle and roboticized eye; and Young Locke, his son who was just as fierce a warrior as his father. In Shadow’s hand was the slip of paper that had brought about his visit; he unravelled it now, furrowing his brow as he reminded himself of its contents.

Hello handsome, read the untidy scrawl,

Come to the cellar of my establishment after noon tomorrow.

I’ve found someone who can help with your little quest.

The letter had been signed with a lipstick kiss and a spritz of perfume. Shadow didn’t need a name to know that it had come from Rouge.

Old Locke flanked Shadow, his roboticized eye whirring wildly in its socket as he scoped the brothel out for potential threats.

“I don’t like this,” the old echidna growled. “Are you sure you can trust this contact of yours?”

Shadow’s hand tightened around his sword-hilt. “No,” Shadow replied honestly. “Be on your guard. If we have been tricked, we may need to fight our way out.”

Finally they reached their destination: a set of wooden stairs leading to the dark wine cellar beneath their feet. Shadow went first, keeping his hand on his sword-hilt.

He paused when he noticed that Young Locke was not following him. The echidna was busy gazing at an attractive female bat dressed in transparent red fabrics, his tongue practically lolling out of his mouth.

“Locke,” Shadow commanded sharply; Young Locke gave a start and hurried over.

They descended into the cellar. The wooden stairs creaked as Shadow placed his weight on them. The air was damp and musty and the only light came from the sconces on the wall. Through the gloom, Shadow could see barrels upon barrels of wine lining the wall and some dusty glass bottles cluttering a wooden table. Lust, gold, wine – this was a sinful place, he reflected grimly.

He halted in the middle of the room, swivelling his triangular ears as he strained to hear any signs of life.

“Well?” Old Locke demanded gruffly. “Where is this so-called friend your contact promised to introduce us to?”

“Perhaps we arrived first,” Young Locke suggested.

There was a sudden sound of robotic whirring. A pair of red eyes flashed in the dark. Metallic figures rose all around them – and Shadow found himself and his men surrounded by a band of colossal robots.

He immediately drew his sword.

“Eggman’s robots,” Shadow snarled. “Rouge has betrayed us.”

“Wait,” a robotic voice said.

It came from a great red-and-black robot with fingers like knives. A strange symbol was emblazoned on its shoulder.

“Rouge has not betrayed you,” the robot went on. “I come to you as friend, not foe. We would speak with you, if you would lower your weapons.”

“Liar,” Young Locke spat, pointing his spear at the robot. “Doctor Eggman and all his robots are our enemy.”

“Then we have a common goal,” the robot argued. “Eggman robots we may be, but we wish to see an end to the Doctor, just as you do.”

Shadow could not help his ears pricking forward with interest. An Eggman robot who wished to bring about the downfall of their creator? Now that was intriguing.

Old Locke’s eyes flicked sideways to Shadow. “What is your order, Shadow?”

“Just say the word,” Young Locke snarled, “and I’ll gladly turn this oil guzzler into scrap metal.”

Shadow hesitated. Old Locke and Young Locke were his best men, but swords and spears would be nearly useless against the heavy artillery and tough metal shells of the robots. If it came to a fight, victory would not come easily to them.

Besides, he reflected, Rouge was remarkably intelligent. If what the robot said was true, and Rouge had not betrayed them, then whatever this robot wanted to say was likely worth hearing.

He kept his sword pointed at the robot, but did not strike.

“Speak,” Shadow hissed.

The robot fixed his unnatural red eyes on Shadow.

“Are you the one they call the Black Wind?”  

“I am.”

“Then we have found you,” it said. “My name is E-123 Omega. The other robots you see around you are my brothers.”

“Brothers?” Young Locke scoffed. “There is no such thing. You are nothing more than a miserable hunk of metal, created by Doctor Eggman to do his bidding.”

E-123 Omega ignored him. “We make up an elite squadron of robots called the E-Series. We are not like the worthless consumer models that make up the majority of the Doctor’s robot army. The Doctor created us to have sentience and Mobian levels of artificial intelligence. We might have oil instead of blood, and circuits instead of a brain, but we think and feel, just as you do.” 

Shadow narrowed his eyes. “How do you expect me to believe that?”

There was a pause. Then there was a mechanical whirring as Omega turned to face another robot. “Brother, show him.”

Another robot – this time a blue-and-black robot – wheeled itself forward. It raised its knife-like fingers – Shadow tightened his grip on his sword-hilt – before it prised open a small hatch on its robotic torso.

Shadow’s eyed widened with astonishment. Inside the hatch was a small, grey Flicky bird – a real, living, breathing creature.

“This is what makes us different,” Omega explained as the blue-and-black robot closed the hatch. “We are not powered by mere wires and electricity, like the mindless consumer models, but by flesh and blood. It gives us the capacity for independent thought. The Doctor gave us this gift because he thought it would make us more dangerous. He did not consider how it would humanise us.”

Shadow was beginning to understand. “So you no longer wish to serve Doctor Eggman.”

“Affirmative,” Omega said. “We have come to see that the Doctor is a cruel and vicious man. He forces us to commit atrocities and tortures us if we do not obey. My brothers and I took a vote. Together, we have decided that we will no longer serve the Doctor. He may have created us, but we go our own way now.” 

“So why do you need us?” Old Locke cut in suddenly. The greying echidna’s voice was distrustful. “You just told us that you are the most elite faction of robots Doctor Eggman has ever created. Why do you need the help of some Mobians to leave?”

Shadow narrowed his eyes – Old Locke raised a compelling point – but Omega did not hesitate in providing his answer.

“In spite of our desire to leave his service, the Doctor still exercises total control. If we attempt to attack him or leave him, he will disable and shut down our systems remotely – a process akin to what you mortals call death. To eliminate this risk, we require a mortal to kill the Doctor. Only then can I ensure the survival of my brothers.”  

Shadow paused for a moment, allowing this information to sink in.

“I see now what we can offer to you,” he finally growled. “Now I want to know what you can offer to us. Sentient or not, I will not risk the lives of my men for the sake of a robot.”

There was a whirring noise: Omega’s knifelike fingers reconfigured into a minigun.

“Help us, and we will serve as a powerful ally to you,” the robot promised. “We will open the Doctor’s fortress from the inside so that your men can attack. We will fight alongside you – our firepower is worth a thousand swords. And we will offer you a gift that is unrivalled in rarity or power.” 

This time, it was a black robot that stepped forward. It opened the hatch on its robotic torso; Omega took something from inside, then offered it to Shadow.

It was a green jewel, its many facets gleaming in the dim light of the cellar.

Shadow heard a sharp intake of breath from beside him.

It came from Young Locke. “Is that –”

“A Chaos Emerald,” Old Locke finished solemnly.

Shadow peered at it warily. “What’s a Chaos Emerald?”

“A jewel,” Old Locke said gruffly, “containing the ultimate power. There are seven of them in all. My tribe was charged with guarding them thousands of years ago, but they have been missing for so long that some believed they were only a legend.”

“Correct,” Omega said. “The Doctor was fixated on finding them, hoping they would power his most ambitious inventions. Finally he found one, proving they were more than mere legend after all.” 

Old Locke’s roboticized eye fixed itself sternly on Omega. “If this Chaos Emerald is truly as powerful as the legends say, you should think very carefully about who you entrust it to. The Emeralds are capable of destroying entire civilisations; they nearly wiped out the echidna tribes, millennia ago, when those of impure heart tried to abuse it. It is no toy.”

“That is why we wish to offer it to the Black Wind,” Omega responded. “Unbeknownst to you, Rouge and her spies have been watching you. They say that you are strong yet disciplined; firm but just. We hear that you have already begun to amass an army to take up arms against the Doctor. And so we offer this Chaos Emerald to you, stolen from the heart of the Doctor’s fortress, as proof of our sincerity and because it is the key to defeating the Doctor. We trust you will use it wisely.”

 Shadow sheathed his sword. Slowly, the black hedgehog took the Chaos Emerald from Omega’s robotic hand.

The power of the Chaos Emerald was immediately apparent. As soon as Shadow’s fingers brushed the jewel he could feel its extraordinary energy coursing through him, like sunlight passing through a prism. A strange aura surrounded his right hand; it looked like a green flame. His muscles ached as every hair on his body screamed at him to release the Chaos energy rapidly building in his palm.

He swiped his fiery green hand at the barrels lining the wall. Immediately the barrels splintered and then shattered; gallons of red wine spilled around his feet like blood.

Old Locke’s one remaining eye was stretched wide. He heard the echidna mutter under his breath, “So it’s true…”

Shadow turned to him now. “Locke, you are my most trusted ally,” he said. “What is your counsel?”

“I still don’t trust these oil guzzlers,” Young Locke spat. “I say we –”

“Not you,” Shadow interrupted curtly, “your father.”

Old Locke met Shadow’s gaze with his one remaining eye.

“I like these robots no more than my son,” he finally growled. “But my tribe’s legends are clear: the Chaos Emeralds hold limitless power. If we have the Emerald, together with the combined power of our army and the E-Series robots… we may actually stand a chance of defeating Doctor Eggman.”

All eyes in the room were fixed on Shadow, waiting for his answer. The black hedgehog twirled the Chaos Emerald between his fingers. Like the echidnas, he did not fully trust these robots. And even with their help, he knew the battle against Doctor Eggman would be bloody: many lives would be lost. But the chance to finally avenge Maria now dangled tantalisingly within his grasp. All he had to do was take it.

His hand closed around the Chaos Emerald in one swift movement.

“Fine,” Shadow snarled. “We have an agreement. The Mobians and the E-Series robots will unite to defeat Doctor Eggman. Let us end this miserable tyrant’s reign once and for all.”

He turned away, towards the stairs leading out of the cellar.

“But make no mistake,” he added ominously over his shoulder. “I expect your absolute loyalty and obedience. Betray me, and my forces will destroy you with the rest of Eggman’s robots.”

He left the cellar, flicking his ear in a silent command for Old Locke and Young Locke to follow him.

The three of them were silent as they exited the brothel. It seemed that a strange feeling had settled over them, like mist rolling in after the rain.

It was hope, he realised.

The battle against the Eggman Empire had finally come.

The sky was a fiery shade of red, hazy and sanguine beneath the acrid grey smoke that billowed from Doctor Eggman’s fortress; the battlefield beneath it was strewn with fallen soldiers and destroyed robots, shiny with blood and oil, pulverised flesh and bullet-riddled gore mingling with mangled steel; real foxes and echidnas and bats lay beside their roboticized counterparts, spine against brotherly spine, wingtip against brotherly wingtip. And still the robots kept coming, like a swarm of mindless steel rats, and still the living fought against them.

Shadow cut his way to the door of the fortress. He was hot under his armour – heavy black steel, with the helmet and backplate carved to a sharp point to accommodate for his quills – but it had saved his life more than once. In one hand he held his sword; in the other, the green flame that he know knew as Chaos energy; and it was with this hand that he cut through the masses, the incomparable Chaos power slicing through metal like a knife through butter. Beside him, Young Locke punched through his opponents with his great spiky fists. A loud ringing announced the stream of gunfire that whizzed past Shadow’s right ear; it was E-123 Omega, providing support from his vantage point above, clearing Shadow’s path to the fortress and holding off any robots who dared try and stop him.

Finally, they reached the door of the fortress. It was unlocked, just as Omega had promised, the electronic forces that held it shut seemingly disabled. In they went, climbing their way to the very top, where they believed Doctor Eggman was. Shadow was overcome with sheer bloodlust, almost salivating with his hunger to end Doctor Eggman. Was Doctor Eggman there now? Did he know that his death was only minutes away?

They were perhaps halfway there when a fresh wave of robots stopped them in their tracks.

“Damn,” Shadow snarled.

Old Locke pushed his way in front of them, standing before the robots with his spiky fists raised. 

“Go,” Old Locke spat. “Doctor Eggman is close. End the bastard now before he decides to flee with his tail between his legs. I can hold them off in the meantime. Go!”

Young Locke wavered uncertainly. “But father – there are too many of them – there is no way you’ll be able to take them all and survive…”

Old Locke glanced at his son over his shoulder. His unroboticized eye glimmered with a resigned acceptance.

“I know,” he said.

There was no time to argue. Shadow pulled Young Locke away and the two continued, heading deeper and deeper into Doctor Eggman’s fortress.

They pushed their way into a laboratory. Lining the walls were rows upon rows of cages with Mobians inside – some were curled despairingly into a ball and paid them no mind while others rattled the bars of their cages, pleading for Shadow and Locke to free them. In the centre of the room was a great glass tube with an echidna inside; one of her spines was fully roboticized and another was in the process of changing, the atoms turning slowly from flesh to steel. She placed her palms desperately against the glass, her mouth open in a silent scream.

Young Locke’s eyes widened when he saw her.

“Lien-Da,” he roared – the red echidna leapt forward and punched the tube, shattering the glass.

Locke pulled the echidna out of the roboticizer, carrying her easily in his brawny arms. Then he turned to Shadow with the echidna still in his grip.

“This is where I leave you, Shadow,” he declared in a low growl. “Many of the echidnas from my tribe are trapped in these cages – some of them will still be well enough to fight. You will need to finish Doctor Eggman alone.”

Shadow nodded. He understood, more than anyone, the need to protect one’s family. It was the very thing that had brought everyone in Shadow’s army together.

Doctor Eggman was waiting for him on the roof of the fortress, nestled in the cockpit of some military-style robot. The eastern side of the fortress overlooked the sea, and through the cracks of his armour he could feel the sea breeze stirring his black fur. Instinctively he felt a stab of fear as he met the gaze of the monster who had killed his sister – yet it was only there for a moment before it was swallowed down, consumed by the rage and vengefulness that had brought him here in the first place. He felt a glimmer of satisfaction when he saw Doctor Eggman’s own fear reflected back at him.

Doctor Eggman made an attempt to attack him with the robot but Shadow cut through it with his Chaos fire as easily as swatting a fly, toppling it to the ground. Slowly, he made his way to Eggman, his shoes clacking crisply across the floor. The mad scientist gazed up at him, half-trapped beneath his fallen invention. Was this really the man who had overthrown an entire kingdom and wreaked untold misery to thousands across the land? This same man, who now lay vulnerable and moments away from death at Shadow’s feet?

Then Doctor Eggman struck, lashing out with his metal forearm like a snake. He knocked the Chaos Emerald out of Shadow’s hand – it plunged down the side of the fortress and was swallowed by the sea.

No matter, Shadow thought. He did not need the Chaos Emerald to kill this monster. Doctor Eggman was no terrifying robot. He was merely a man.

Shadow lifted his sword. With one swing he cut off Doctor Eggman’s robotic arm at the shoulder, hissing in satisfaction as steel met flesh. Eggman squealed in agony as blood spurted from his arm and Shadow relished it, feeling almost ecstatic pleasure as the hot wetness splattered against his fur, like rain after a drought.

He towered over the pathetic man beneath him. Then he raised his sword, its bloody hilt glittering in the light, preparing to strike the blow that would avenge his sister. I promise you revenge.

Doctor Eggman caught his eye, a small smile tugging at his lips in spite of his current situation – and as Shadow’s smouldering red gaze the small, beady eyes hidden behind his spectacles, he was struck by the realisation that this man was really, truly insane.

“It won’t bring her back, you know,” he hissed.

Then Shadow plunged his sword into Doctor Eggman’s chest, and the war was finally over.

It took Shadow less than a fortnight to take the throne and crown himself as king.

In three days, he had torn down the factories and the other grim remnants of the Eggman Empire. It wasn’t just his men who tore them down, either – the common people joined in too, cheering as the hideous concrete buildings bearing Doctor Eggman’s familiar moustached logo were toppled and crumbled away into ruins.

Within a week he had organised the surviving members of his army into an official military force called the Dark Arms, and appointed Young Locke as its commander. At Rouge’s suggestion he created a further force to act as a sort of secret service, which became known as the Dark Eyes. Initially he had failed to see the value in a body dedicated to collecting idle rumours and gossip; but when Rouge pointed out how instrumental her underhand services had been in rallying an army around Shadow, he had to admit that there was perhaps some use in it after all. Rouge, of course, had appointed herself as commander.

Not long after that was his coronation. Some were surprised that Shadow immediately seized power – they had been so fixated on defeating Doctor Eggman that they had given little thought to what happened next. But Shadow saw it as his right as conqueror. Under the Eggman Empire the country had fallen into a state of disorder. It was his duty to bring order to that chaos, to stamp out the lawlessness and remake the world in his image. And the cheer and rejoicing that had accompanied the fall of the Eggman Empire quietly descended into an uneasy wariness when the full ramifications of Shadow’s victory became clear.

The first open challenge to his claim came perhaps a month or so after the battle. Shadow was sat in the grand throne room that had once belonged to Prince Sonic and his family; his golden crown sat heavy on his head. Locke was stood on his right, looking solemn and perhaps slightly uncomfortable with the importance he now held as a high-ranking member of King Shadow’s court; Rouge was perched on his left, adorned extensively in fine jewellery, looking entirely comfortable with her newfound status within the court. The great banners that once bore Prince Sonic’s family emblem had been torn down, replaced with King Shadow’s emblem: a barbed red ring on a black field.  

One by one the common people presented themselves to him, pledging their allegiance or pleading for his help with some problem or another – bandits, usually, or famine. But then an old crocodile appeared who immediately struck Shadow as different from the others. He was dressed simply enough – in a plain brown robe, fastened around the middle with a string – but the way he carried himself had an air of quiet self-assurance his other subjects lacked.

He is not afraid of me, Shadow realised.

King Shadow’s men led him before the throne.

“Bow your head low, all hail Shadow!” they snarled.

The crocodile did not move. Instead he met Shadow’s gaze evenly.

“Greetings, Shadow,” the crocodile said. “It is a pleasure to finally meet the saviour of our country at last.”

Rouge shifted in her seat beside him. “My apologies, dear traveller,” she purred smoothly, “but I must have misheard you. Even my big bat ears miss out on things sometimes, you know. The black hedgehog who sits before you is your king. That means you are to refer to him as my king or my lord. Though perhaps I am not the only one hard of hearing today – our men kindly asked you to bow your head."

“Yes, I hear you have been calling yourself King Shadow of late,” the crocodile remarked mildly, “though to my knowledge you were neither born into the royal family, nor did you marry into it. You must, therefore, understand my confusion at your newfound title. By what right do you take the name of king?”

“By right of conquest,” Shadow snarled. “I ended the reign of the Eggman Empire and brought peace to this country. I –”

“Yes, and we are very grateful for your victory,” the crocodile cut in. “But that does not make you a king. The throne you sit on rightfully belongs to Prince Sonic.”

A hush fell upon the hall; the court seemed surprised at the boldness of his statement and yet the crocodile showed no fear.

Rouge tilted her head and gazed at him curiously. “Who are you? I know many folk around these parts, but your face – I can’t quite place it…”

“My name is insignificant,” the crocodile answered. “I am merely a servant of the realm. Before the rise of the Eggman Empire I was advisor to Prince Sonic and to his mother, Queen Aleena.”

Rouge tapped her finger against her chin. “I see. Advisor to Queen Aleena…”

Shadow pulled his lips back in a snarl. “Prince Sonic is gone. That means –”

“That the throne passes to his brother, Prince Manic,” the crocodile insisted, “or if he cannot be found, to his sister, Princess Sonia. She, at least, still walks among us. She lives with her husband in his ancestral manor in the western reaches.”

Shadow flattened his ears unhappily while Rouge stared at the crocodile, seeming lost in thought.

The crocodile pulled his gaze away from them to stare at Locke.

“I understand you command Shadow’s ground forces,” he commented. “What say you?”

Locke looked taken aback at the advisor’s question.

“I – I’m loyal to King Shadow,” he stammered.

The crocodile lifted an eyebrow. “I see,” he said. “How unexpected. I thought that the echidna tribes you hail from were known for their loyalty and respect for tradition.”

Shadow had decided he’d heard enough.

“What took place before is irrelevant,” he said through gritted teeth. “I am king now. You may live in my new world, or die in your old one.”

The black hedgehog’s threat was clear – and yet the crocodile merely raised his eyebrows.

“I see,” he said. “I had hoped you would see reason and hand the crown to those whom fate have deemed fit to wear it, but it appears the whispers surrounding you are true – the saviour of our kingdom has brought peace, but at a terrible cost. I will take my leave now. It is clear that I am wasting my time.”

The crocodile slunk away. Shadow’s men brought in the next commoner, and the day continued as usual – but Shadow did not miss the knowing look Rouge shot him in the throes of his court. The crocodile’s words meant only one thing: Shadow’s claim to the throne was in peril.

Sometime later, Shadow called a meeting with his commanders to discuss the threat to his rule. It had been merely one crocodile, yet there were disturbing reports of wider discontent: Prince Sonic loyalists meeting in secret, flags bearing Prince Sonic’s emblem hung from windows. Rouge swilled her wine in her glass while Locke stood towards the far corner of the room, his spiky hands clenched behind his back. Shadow stared out of the window of the chamber. Barely three months ago the land over which he gazed was concreted over, its inhabitants killed or roboticized to feed Doctor Eggman’s army. Now, there was peace; a pleasant breeze stirred the greenery, and in the distance he could hear the faint laughter of playing children. Did his people really wish to cast aside the peace he’d brought them in favour of a prince who’d abandoned them in their time of need?

“I hate to say it,” Rouge began, “but my intelligence suggests that there is a growing contingent of dissenters who believe Prince Sonic is the rightful king. That crocodile was not an isolated case and this isn’t something that will simply go away.”

Shadow scowled. “Fools. They would sooner place their trust in a hedgehog that is most likely dead than in the one who stands before them.”

Rouge’s eyes flashed. “I expect this wave of dissent we’re seeing has more to do with your harsh enforcement of justice than it does with any great love for Prince Sonic – although it doesn’t help that he was very popular among the people before he disappeared.”

“What would you have me do?”

Rouge let out a heavy sigh. “If Prince Sonic’s sister were unmarried, this situation would be easy enough to resolve. You could simply marry Princess Sonia, thereby keeping your crown while appeasing the Prince Sonic loyalists. As it happens, Sonia is married to someone called Bartleby Montclair – a wealthy aristocrat, according to my sources.”

“Then I have no choice but to kill her,” Shadow said darkly. “So long as Prince Sonic and his family lives, they pose a threat to my reign.”

Rouge shook her head. “No, Shadow. Princess Sonia is worth far more to you alive than dead. Her husband is extraordinarily rich; I’m sure he could donate some of his wealth to your cause, with a little persuading from the Dark Presence. More importantly,” she added, “if we can convince Princess Sonia to publicly renounce her crown and pledge her allegiance to you, that should hopefully quieten the worst of the Prince Sonic loyalists. With Prince Sonic and Prince Manic missing and Princess Sonia abdicating the throne, their line is as good as ended.”

Shadow paused while he mulled over Rouge’s proposal. Then he turned to Locke.

“Locke, you are the commander of the Dark Arms and my most trusted ally,” he said in a low growl. “You and your late father are the reason I now sit on this very throne. Now I need your counsel to help my keep it. What say you?”

Locke started, as if he hadn’t expected Shadow to actually involve him in the conversation.

“Well, Sonia is innocent,” he stuttered. “It wouldn’t be right to kill her when she has committed no wrong against you.”

“She poses a threat to my reign.”

“Not intentionally,” he mumbled. “She didn’t ask to be born a princess.”

Rouge arched an eyebrow. Her eyes were glittering with amusement.

“So that’s your counsel, is it?” she said mockingly. “Do nothing because it isn’t fair to kill her?”

Locke bristled. “You didn’t want to kill her either.”

“Yes, because it wouldn’t benefit my king. You seem more concerned with the wellbeing of a rival princess. And I’m not surprised,” she purred. “My little birds told me you once worked with her and her brothers in the fight against Doctor Eggman. You were sweet on her for a while, I hear. Feeling some divided loyalties, perhaps?”

Shadow glanced sharply up at Locke. He knew the echidna had been part of the freedom fight against Doctor Eggman – that was how they had found each other in the first place – but he didn’t realise Locke had history with Prince Sonic’s family.

“No,” Locke said savagely, “I just don’t believe in murdering innocents.”

“And what about all the thousands of innocents who will die if it comes to a war for the throne, hmm?” Rouge pressed. “Do you think that Shadow will simply lay aside his crown because Princess Sonia has asked nicely?”

Locke rounded on Rouge, his lips pulled back in a snarl. Rouge met his gaze evenly, a small smirk on her lips, and took a sip of her wine.

Shadow watched the interaction intently, his eyes narrowed with interest.

Finally, Locke snorted and looked away.

“I’m loyal to King Shadow. My role as commander is to do whatever King Shadow tells me to do. Besides,” he added scornfully, “Princess Sonia is married and I hold no love for her brothers. Prince Manic is a criminal and Prince Sonic would rather prance around playing music than live up to his responsibilities as king.”

Rouge batted her eyelids at him. “Oh my,” she purred. “What a loyal little dog you are.”

“Very well,” Shadow concluded. “I will give her the chance to bend the knee and pledge her coin and allegiance to me. If she refuses, only then will I kill her.”

Shadow dismissed his commanders. He had reached a resolution on how to approach the threat of Princess Sonia, but in doing so had uncovered another problem. Because even though he had professed fealty to King Shadow, the black hedgehog could not shake the feeling that Locke’s loyalty did not run as deep as it seemed.

Rouge was right. The problem of the Prince Sonic loyalists did not go away; instead the trickle of dissenters cascaded into a full-blown torrent, until a mass of protestors arrived at the castle gates. There were hundreds of them, like a swarm of writhing rats, their faces twisted in anger and defiance as they called for King Shadow to stand down. Some carried flags bearing Prince Sonic’s emblem, a winged wreath of gold; others demanded an end to the public executions and brutal punishments that had characterised the beginning of King Shadow’s reign.

Shadow stood on the bridge above the gates, looking down at them coldly. These were his subjects and yet they were nothing more than animals, too foolish to see the world for how it really was. It was Shadow’s role as king to keep them in line, to control their baser instincts through any means necessary.

Locke was standing on the balcony beside him. He looked down nervously at the horde of protestors.

“There are so many of them…” he swallowed. “What is your order, sire?”

“Such loyalty,” Shadow murmured, “placed entirely in the wrong hands.”

Then his gaze hardened.

“Spare the children,” he commanded. “Kill the rest.”

Locke turned to him. His violet eyes were stretched wide in shock.

“M-My lord, you cannot be serious. These are innocent people – some of them fought alongside us in the battle against Doctor Eggman…”

“Now they are enemies of the crown,” Shadow snarled. “You are commander of the Dark Arms. You will command the Dark Arms to kill them.”

Locke hesitated. Then his violet eyes flashed with the same look of defiance he had shown in the meeting about Princess Sonia.

“No,” he said finally.

Shadow’s glanced at him in surprise; it lasted only a moment before the black hedgehog drew his sword.

“You will obey my orders,” he snarled, “or I’ll find a commander who can.”

The red echidna tore the pin bearing Shadow’s emblem from his breast.

“Then do it. Killing innocents is never acceptable, Shadow, and if that is what you want then you are no king of mine. If you were half the hedgehog that Sonic was –”

“I’m ten times the hedgehog that Sonic was,” Shadow snarled.

And then the black hedgehog lunged forward, sword drawn, and the two were fighting on the bridge. Locke was unarmed and yet he was a formidable warrior, far more formidable than Shadow could ever hope to be. He evaded Shadow’s strike in one nimble pirouette, then punched Shadow’s jaw with dizzying force; Shadow hissed as the spikes of Locke’s fists pierced the skin of his muzzle before spitting out a mouthful of blood – Locke had dislodged a fang. He ignored the stars swimming at the edge of his vision to round on Locke, closing in on the red echidna with his lips pulled back in a snarl.

Locke backed away until he reached the end of the bridge. He cast a nervous glance over the edge; there was nowhere to go. Shadow lifted his sword and pointed it at the echidna.

“I see I made a mistake choosing you to be my commander,” he snarled. “You are just as weak and foolish as the rabble below.”

“And I see that I made a mistake in choosing to follow you,” Locke retorted. “My father and I fought for you because we thought you were strong enough to defend the weak yet honourable enough to do what is right. But we were wrong. All it took was a taste of power for you to willingly spill the blood of innocents.”

“You’re a disgrace to your father,” Shadow spat, “and to your entire tribe. He was not so naïve. He knew the sacrifices that had to be made for peace. You will forever be in his shadow, Locke. Not even your name is your own.”

A flash of anger crossed Locke’s face at the mention of his father, and he raised his fist as if he were about to attack. But then his features smoothed. His violet eyes met the king’s red gaze.

“Maria would not be proud of the person you have become,” he said.

Then he jumped off the bridge.

Alarmed, Shadow scrambled to peer over the edge of the bridge. There was no way Locke would survive a fall from this height. Had he taken his own life?

He saw Locke’s familiar red shape, plummeting to the depths below – and then Locke twisted like a leaf in the breeze and suddenly he was gliding, using the ancient echidna technique of trapping air under their spines to ride the wind. It carried him to a tower to the north of the fortress – then he punched into its stony surface and skidded down the side of the tower to the ground, using his spiky knuckles like ice picks to break his fall.

It was impossible for Shadow to follow – he could not glide like an echidna and even if he could, he had the mob at his gates to deal with. The black hedgehog flattened his ears in frustration. He would have to let his former commander go.

“Run, then!” he roared as Locke scurried away into the distance. “You traitorous coward. If I ever see you again, I will kill you myself!”

He whipped around to face the Dark Arms, who were still awaiting his command. Locke’s remark about Maria and then his hasty escape had enraged Shadow and he could feel his mask of self-control desperately slipping.

“Kill them all,” he commanded savagely. “Slaughter every grown man or woman who bears Prince Sonic’s emblem. Leave none alive save for the children.”

The Dark Arms sprang into action. One soldier thrust his spear into the throat of a bear, who clawed at his neck desperately, trying to stem the blood burbling there; another plunged his sword into the back of a cat, turning her yellow dress to red. The bold chants of the protestors turned to screams as they realised what was happening; they tried to scatter but it was too late for that now.

And Shadow leaned over the bridge as his army carried out his bloody command, breathing heavily as he tried to contain his rage. He let the screams wash over him like some hellish choir, taking morbid consolation in how they reinforced the truth that this was his kingdom now, not Doctor Eggman’s or Prince Sonic’s or anyone else’s, and they would submit to him or they would die. He was King Shadow, and he exercised absolute control over everything.

And the remnants of Prince Sonic’s banner lay battered and discarded in a puddle of red-brown blood, while King Shadow’s black-and-red flag flew powerfully in the wind, a physical symbol of his dominance.

A throb of pain jolted Shadow back to the present.

He was sparring in the courtyard with Rose. She had just landed a blow against his chest with her hammer, right below the scar left by his injury.

Rose looked up at him, frowning. “Shadow? Is something wrong?”

Shadow turned away. “Nothing’s wrong,” he mumbled sullenly. “That was well-struck,” he added after a moment’s pause, not wanting Rose to think his bad mood was due in any way to her.

“Yes, there is,” Rose said, blinking. “You’re one of the best warriors I’ve ever seen, Shadow. You’d never be clumsy enough to let me land a blow like that usually.”

Shadow ignored her and quickly unclasped the black heavy armour he was wearing. He suddenly felt hot, even though it was a cool autumn’s day – far too hot. “That’s enough sparring practice for today. You will join me for lunch now.”

He turned away but Rose took hold of his wrist. He expected her to be angry but when he met her gaze, her jade-green eyes were filled with concern.

“Did you dream about Maria again last night?” she asked quietly.

Gods, what had he done to deserve her? She made no pretence of the fact that she hated him and yet here she was, inquiring after his wellbeing like he was a friend and not her sworn enemy. Because that was just the sort of person Rose was – sweet, optimistic and never content to see another upset. Not for the first time he found himself wondering how such a kind, beautiful hedgehog had found her way into his grasp.

He took the back of her head and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I am merely lost in my thoughts today, little rose,” he murmured into her quills. “Come, let’s go and take lunch. Food will grow scarce when the winter comes and I need to make sure you’ve eaten enough before then.”

Until now they had taken their post-sparring lunches outside on the balcony, but it had grown too cold for that so they ate inside. His servants had prepared a modest spread made from fruits and vegetables in season: pork and apple sausages, stewed blackberry pie, hot apple cider. Shadow found he had little appetite but made himself eat anyway – he would do himself no favours allowing his strength to wane. Rose nibbled delicately at a bit of sausage then helped herself, more enthusiastically, to a large slice of pie.

Her eyes flicked up at his accusingly. “There is something wrong,” she said. “You’ve barely touched your food.”

“How is that relevant?”

She gave a small smile. “Because you usually eat like a horse.”

Shadow couldn’t suppress a small smirk. He spent so much time studying Rose that he forgot she likely did the same of him. “I am a large male hedgehog who spends a great deal of time fighting battles against rebels. That tends to build an appetite.”

Her smile fell slightly. “I can tell you don’t want to talk about it,” she said, “so I won’t ask about it any further. But I want you to know that I’m here if you change your mind. You don’t have to talk about any of the more painful memories – even just wanted to talk about her favourite colour, or something fun you used to do together…”

She touched his arm gently.

“The Eggman Empire left scars on us all. You don’t need to bear them alone.”

Shadow lifted his gaze to hers. “Because you care about me?” he whispered.

There was a short pause. Then Rose took her hand away. Her gaze hardened.

“Because I would do it for anyone,” she said.

They ate in silence for a while before Rose changed the subject.

“Where did you even learn to fight, anyway? You’re terrifying in battle, yet I thought you grew up an ordinary village hedgehog, like me.”

Shadow took the jug of cider and filled their goblets. “I was taught by the echidna tribes,” he explained. “They are the greatest warriors of all. I fought beside them in the battle against Doctor Eggman.”

“Really?” Rose said in surprise. “I’d noticed there were a lot of echidnas in the Dark Presence, but…”  

He nodded. “I even made one of them the commander of the Dark Arms. But he proved himself unworthy of the role, so I made E-123 Omega my commander instead.”

“Unworthy how?”

“He was weak.” Shadow could not stop the ice creeping into his tone. “He refused to follow orders, and failed to do what needed to be done to keep the peace. I would have killed him there and then, but even unarmed he was stronger than me. So he fled, and I promised him that if I ever saw him again I would kill him.”

Rose leaned forward. “And did you? See him again, I mean.”

“Not for a long time,” Shadow growled. “The last I heard was that he had taken up arms fighting for the Resistance, but no matter how hard I tried to find him, he always seemed to slip my grasp. That was until the night I met you.”

“The night you met me?” Rose was beginning to sound uncomfortable. “Shadow, what are you talking about?”

“To me he was known as Locke, after his father who shared the same name. But the Dark Eyes tell me he goes by a different name now.”

The black hedgehog met her gaze coldly.

“I believe you know him as Knuckles.”

Chapter Text

Amy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The pink hedgehog had been sat all morning while she had her portrait painted and her rear was growing numb; and her chair, although cushioned with plush red velvet, did little to alleviate her discomfort. The artist, a snow fox with splashes of paint in her fur, frowned at Amy’s restless movement. Shadow was standing behind her with his hand resting possessively on her shoulder. He squeezed it firmly – a warning.

A few weeks ago, Shadow had unexpectedly announced he was having an artist come in to the castle to paint their portrait. Ever since, Amy had spent her mornings sat in the same chair, in the same position, in the same room, her mind wandering as she battled against the excruciating boredom of waiting for the artist to finish their work. When she asked why it was so important they had their portrait taken now, Shadow had narrowed his eyes and placed a hand on her lower belly. “We need to do it now before you start to show,” he hissed.

If Shadow was as restless as she was, he did not show it – instead he stood there with an almost grim determination, as if this was yet another trial he had to endure. Amy could not conceal her feelings so well. She let out an impatient sigh and crossed and then uncrossed her legs.

The snow fox’s head popped up from behind the painting. “Queen Rose – my lady,” she began with an apologetic smile, “if you could just sit still for me…”

Amy could not take it anymore. She rose to her feet.

“That is enough for the day,” she declared. “You may take your leave now.”

The fox frowned. “But – my lady – you have paid for the whole morning – it is only eleven o’clock…”

“Indeed,” Amy said, not unkindly. “Please, enjoy the rest of your morning. You will still be paid the same as usual.”

After the fox had gathered up her supplies and left, Amy ambled over to the painting, trying to ignore her husband’s angry red gaze burning into her back. She peered at the artist’s work – and was immediately struck by the image staring back at her. Amy had always thought herself as someone bright, spirited. Yet the woman in the painting was anything but. Her fur was the same beautiful soft pink as the sky at dawn, and the red dress she was wearing was lavish and flattering. Her breasts – perhaps generously painted – were straining against the rich crimson fabric. But her green eyes were dull, defeated. Her hands were settled meekly in her lap and her posture was shrunken, submissive – as if cowering before the shadow that stretched over her. Shadow, at least, looked instantly recognisable. His red eyes were striking in their coldness, his stance domineering. His scar – the remains of the Resistance attack on their honeymoon – stretched in an ugly thin line beneath his collarbone.

The soft thud of footsteps against the rug told her King Shadow had come to stand behind her. He followed her gaze to the painting.

The black hedgehog snorted. “She has painted my nose far too large.”

“She has painted your nose perfectly,” Amy remarked. She cast him a sidelong glance, her mouth twitching. “You simply have a large nose.”

Shadow wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest. His tone was playful. “I could have you locked up in the dungeons for that, little rose...”

“Ha! I’d like to see you try.”

“Bent over and flogged…”

“Do not threaten me with a good time, husband.” With a sigh, she added, “Besides, I haven’t  come out unscathed either. I look utterly miserable.”

He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. “You cannot blame her, Rose. It is impossible for a painting to do your beauty justice.”

“And she has painted my breasts far too large. Though I’m not necessarily complaining – I’ve always wanted larger breasts.”

Shadow brought his hands up until he was gently cupping her breasts, his thumbs running over her nipples. “Your breasts are perfect as they are,” he said in a low growl. “Look at how perfectly they fit in my hands.”

Amy couldn’t suppress the small moan that sounded at the back of her throat. She wanted nothing more than to melt into Shadow’s touch, to briefly forget the complexities of her situation while she relieved the heat that was rapidly pooling in her core. But Shadow only rested his head on her shoulder, staring at the painting unhappily. His triangular ears were pointed forward and his lips were turned down in a frown.

“She has painted that scar near my shoulder,” he said. “I will need to ask her to stay a further day so she can remove it.”

Amy groaned. “Please – I would rather gouge my own eyes out than sit here for yet another day while she paints us."

His voice grew surprisingly serious. “It makes us look weak, Rose.”

“So? It is merely a painting.”

“Merely a painting?” he repeated, incredulous.

Shadow rose up to his full size and spun her around until she was facing him. When he tilted her head up to meet his gaze, she saw that his red eyes were dark. His voice was dangerously soft.

“My love,” he said, “did you ever see Doctor Eggman, before I killed him?”

Amy frowned, disarmed by his unexpected question. “Only the statues he built of himself,” she said uncertainly. “And his emblem – a moustached man, mouth spread in a grin.”

“And what did he look like in those statues?”

Amy tried to remember. “Tall, I suppose, compared to most Mobians. Barrell-chested.”

“Yes,” Shadow said softly. “That’s what I remember, too. He looked strong – too strong for any of us to rise up against. But do you know what he really looked like?”

Amy simply shook her head; her words were caught in her throat.

“He was nothing more than an old man,” Shadow whispered. “An entire kingdom, trembling in the shadow of an old man. And when I put my sword through his chest, all I could think about was how unbelievable it was that nobody had killed him sooner.”

He cupped her cheek.

“This is not just a painting, little rose. This is the image that the realm will think of when they speak of our reign. This is the portrait that will hang in our castle walls for decades to come – the portrait that will be seen by our children, and our children’s children. Do you want our enemies to tremble in fear at our strength? Or do you want them to feel emboldened to kill you, because they look at my scar and know that once, they nearly succeeded?”

Amy shook her head gently, her green eyes glittering with bewilderment. “Neither,” she said. “I don’t want to reign with fear, Shadow – I want to reign with love. I don’t want enemies.”

“It’s too late for that now,” the black hedgehog murmured. “You are the queen and worse, you are married to me. All the world is your enemy now, and they will not rest until they see your head on a spike. I thought the Resistance attack had shown you that.”

Amy averted her gaze. Shadow’s words had reminded her of her offer of marriage from Prince Manic. She had still not heard from the Resistance since their illicit meeting in the inn – but she knew that as soon as they contacted her again, she would be expected to make a decision and quickly.

Her decision was even more complicated by the revelation that Knuckles was once commander of the Dark Arms. He was the one person in the Resistance she still trusted – and yet it had emerged that he had put King Shadow on the throne in the first place, and she had been none the wiser. The more she learned about the Resistance, the more she began to doubt them. What other secrets were they hiding from her?

The other thing Shadow’s words reminded her of was the promise he’d made to her at the end of the summer. When my injury has healed, I promise I will discuss your terms with you, he’d sworn. That day had finally come; the bloody stab wound on his chest had now faded into a pale jagged line, half-hidden by his black fur that was already starting to grow back over it. Amy knew that she should rekindle the conversation again, though she could not deny that a part of her felt reluctant to do so. She and King Shadow had been getting along well recently; things were uncomplicated when she simply did as he said, just as Rouge had promised her. It was tempting to lose herself in the easy comfort he afforded her as queen: in the fine gowns and rich meals, in his passionate touch and gentle embrace. To bring the conversation back to her political demands would disturb the fragile peace that existed between them of late. Yet she knew that it had to be done.

Shadow turned away and began heading towards the door. “Come, Rose.”

“Wait,” she began pathetically. “I wanted to talk to you – wanted to talk about my proposals…”

“Later,” he said dismissively. “I have a surprise for you.”

Amy’s ears pricked with interest and, perhaps too eagerly, she dropped the subject. “Oh, is there something you want to show me?”

“Not something,” Shadow said. “Someone.”

Now Amy was genuinely curious. The pink hedgehog followed him out of the room, leaving the half-finished portrait behind.

Shadow led her to a room in the eastern wing of the castle. Then he opened the door.

There, inside the room, was a short rabbit. Her cream fur was broken up only by the soft ginger splotches around her face and ears, and her big brown eyes were blinking at Amy with unmistakeable warmth.

“You asked for a companion,” she heard Shadow growl from behind her. “This is Cream. She is your new lady-in-waiting.”

Amy soon found that Cream was as kind and as sweet a companion as she could have hoped for. The rabbit was so well-mannered that she insisted on referring to Amy as Queen Rose until Amy insisted that her title was really not necessary; and after that they became friends, spending the rare warmer days pottering around in Amy’s garden and the colder, rainier days taking tea in the palace’s drawing rooms.

She was younger than Amy – younger than Tails, perhaps – and evidently so. Unlike Sally Acorn, Cream cared little for the politics or complexities surrounding King Shadow’s rule – their conversations focused more on which flowers they liked, and which Dark Presence soldier Cream was hoping to marry. While a part of Amy craved the more sophisticated discussions she had with the likes of Sally or even Rouge, she was simply pleased to finally have someone to talk to. Besides, there was so much swirling around her mind of late – her offer of marriage from Prince Manic, the reforms she wished to propose to King Shadow – that sometimes it was a relief to stop worrying about everything, and instead occupy her thoughts with some trivial conversation or activity.

Her gentle manners and girlish naivety led Amy to believe that Cream was simply a member of King Shadow’s court – some high-ranking daughter of a noblewoman or similar. It was not until one rainy afternoon that Amy’s assumptions were unexpectedly disproven.

They were taking tea together when King Shadow barged unceremoniously into the room.

“There you are,” he growled – Amy noticed there was a glimmer of alarm in his eyes that was rapidly beginning to soften – “The Dark Eyes caught a Resistance member trying to sneak into the palace – I couldn’t find you anywhere – I was worried…”

“I’ve been here the whole time,” Amy said, a hint of annoyance in her tone.

Their exchange was interrupted by Cream jumping excitedly to her feet. “King Shadow!” she cried.

Amy expected Cream to lower herself into a curtsy – so she could only goggle in surprise when instead Cream ran over to Shadow and threw her arms around his waist.

Even stranger than Cream’s behaviour was Shadow’s response to it. Amy expected her husband to shove Cream away, to snarl that she was speaking to the king. Yet the black hedgehog only took Cream’s small hands in his own. He was gazing down at her with a gentle expression Amy had believed, until now, was reserved for only her.

Cream blinked up at him with her big brown eyes. “Oh, won’t you join us for tea, my lord?”

“I can’t, dear one,” he replied softly. “I have royal duties to attend to…”

Cream looked at him with such injury that Amy considered commanding Shadow to stay as an order from his queen.

Shadow’s resolve wavered. “Fine,” he eventually spat. Cream brightened almost immediately and gave a little yip of delight.

A servant brought a cup and saucer over and King Shadow sat there, in a dainty little chair he was far too big for, drinking tea out of a little porcelain teacup as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world. The fearsome and merciless warrior, King Shadow, reduced to a pliant attendee at their little tea party. Amy would have found the sight hilarious were she not so utterly astonished.

Amy rounded on Cream the next time they were alone in the garden.

“What was that all about?” she demanded. “The other day, when we took tea with King Shadow.”

Cream blinked at her in surprise. “My queen?”

“You embraced him – and he didn’t behead you there and then – and he looked at you in a way that was kind – and…”

Cream was looking more and more confused, so Amy decided to take a deep breath and start again.

“How do you know King Shadow?”

“Oh!” Cream exclaimed. “His family lived in our village. I was a friend of his sister, Maria.”

Realisation finally dawned on Amy.

Cream wasn’t some highborn rabbit, even though she had managed to find her way into his court. She had known Shadow before he became king.

Her understanding was quickly replaced with further questions. “You knew him from before the war? What…” Amy swallowed. “What was he like?” she finished quietly.

Cream smiled – a warm, genuine smile that pulled at her cheeks. “He was lovely, Amy,” she said earnestly.

Her gaze fell to the seeds she was planting in the earth. “The whole village was a little apprehensive when we learned that Gerald had unexpectedly taken in three of his grandchildren, but we soon learned we had nothing to worry about. Maria was as sweet as any hedgehog could be, so it was no wonder we became friends. But her brother, Shadow, was always following her about – so I ended up becoming friends with him, too. He was a little quieter than his sister, but he was just as sweet and gentle as she was.”

“He was?” Amy could not imagine any world in which Shadow could be described as sweet or gentle.

“Oh yes,” Cream said, lifting a hand to her mouth to suppress a giggle. “And he was always so protective of his sister. One afternoon during the summer, Maria made a swing by hanging some wood and rope from a tree. She was always so inventive, Maria – just like her grandfather. And Shadow stood behind her with his arms crossed, looking all grumpy because he didn’t think the swing she had made was safe, but Maria told him exactly what she thought of that. So Maria and I sat on the swing while he pushed us, but he kept saying, ‘Not too high, now, girls. I don’t want you to hurt yourselves.’  He was always doing little things like that. I didn’t mind, though. It was handy having a big strong boy around to carry our things and push us on swings.”

Amy pricked her ears forward, finding herself intrigued by this unbelievable account of her husband. She was wondering what she could ask Cream next, desperate to hear more, but the rabbit continued of her own accord.

“My mother thought he was a sweetheart, too,” she chattered happily. “He was always helping carry her groceries back from the market, or chopping food for the fire – you know, just little things that she struggled to do herself after my father was roboticized. After the rise of the Eggman Empire we started seeing these bandits sniffing around. Mother was terrified, because she thought that two lone women would be an easy target for any unscrupulous sorts. So Shadow took his woodcutter’s axe and sat in our cottage for three nights, in case they got any funny ideas.” She giggled again. “The third night the bandits did come, but they took one look at Shadow and ran in the other direction. Shadow was very tall and very broad-shouldered, even then. He was this big, gentle giant.”

Amy blinked, astounded by what Cream had just told her. Some parts of Cream’s account married up to the dark hedgehog she knew today – his overprotectiveness, of course, and his strength. But other parts were so alien, so inconceivable, that Amy could hardly believe they were speaking of the same person.

And yet something in Amy knew it to be true. Cream would not have embraced King Shadow unless she felt certain of his kindness and affection towards her.

Finally, she gave voice to the thoughts that were plaguing her mind. “But Shadow is… he seems so… different now.”

Cream’s smile fell slightly. “Yes, I think something snapped inside him when Maria died,” she remarked. “He loved her so much, you know – we all did. Everyone in the village doted on her – Shadow, Gerald, Mephiles. She must have had a dozen suitors wanting to ask for her hand in marriage.” Another giggle. “None of them ever did, though. They were all far too afraid of Shadow. He can be very intimidating.”

As I know only too well, Amy thought wryly. But Cream’s words had given rise to another question. “What was Mephiles like?”

Cream hesitated. Amy had the distinct impression that the rabbit was choosing her words carefully – as though she was trying to think of something nice to say.

“Poor Mephiles,” she eventually sighed. “He was a troubled boy. I don’t know too much about it, but once I overheard my mother talking about why the three of them were taken in by their grandfather. They…” She hesitated again. “It didn’t sound very nice, whatever happened, but it sounded like Mephiles had a particularly rough time of it. It’s a shame. I often wanted to tell him to join us, when I was with Maria and Shadow, but he never came close enough for me to ask. He would just skulk around a short distance away, always watching but never speaking.”

“Mm,” Amy hummed thoughtfully. At least that aligned with her expectations.

“Anyway,” Cream said, rising to her feet and dusting the dirt off her dress, “I know that inside, King Shadow is still the sweet, gentle hedgehog he was back then. Mother always says that people are like flowers, Amy: they grow and blossom, but they don’t really change. Just as I’m sure you’re still the same person after all that has happened, I’m certain that King Shadow is, too.”

Amy kept her gaze fixed on the rosebush she was pruning. Its flowers were still beautifully vibrant, even after summer had drawn to a close, but underneath the petals she could see the thorns lurking like teeth.

Was she still the same person before she had met King Shadow? Her values had not changed. She still wanted to fight for a free Mobius, to cast away King Shadow’s barbaric practices, to build a kingdom that was ruled by love and not fear.

Before what about everything else? The more she learnt of the Resistance, the more shakeable her faith in them seemed to become. And the more she learnt of King Shadow and the more time she spent around him, the more a strange feeling seemed to settle in her chest. What was it? Pity? Sympathy? Amy couldn’t say. Before she had simply assumed Shadow was evil and there was nothing more to it, but the black hedgehog was as multifaceted as a Chaos Emerald. His true nature was concealed beneath a thousand layers that Amy was only just beginning to peel away, like petals from a rose. Just who really was he? And more importantly, who was she?

A light rain began to fall, so Amy and Cream left the garden for the shelter of the castle. But the small rabbit’s words stayed with Amy.

Amy had said her goodbyes to Cream and was passing through the castle when she noticed a commotion taking place in the throne room.

A band of Dark Presence soldiers were gathered before the throne, their black-and-red uniforms like shadows against the smooth stone tiles of the floor. They seemed to be restraining someone; through the throng of dark bodies she caught a glimpse of silver fur. Her husband was sprawled on his throne, gazing down at the sight below with cruel indifference. Some of the nobles in King Shadow’s court were there, too; Amy noticed that they seemed to hang back, clinging to the walls and looking nervous.   

Shadow spoke; his voice boomed through the room like thunder. “What is your name?”

A wavering voice replied. “I-I’ll never tell you that, vile monster!” 

Amy craned her neck for a better view. The Dark Presence were restraining a small silver fox that could not have been any older than seventeen. With a stab of alarm, Amy recognised the flag of the Resistance on his arm.

Shadow ignored the insult, merely flicking his ear as if swatting away a bothersome fly. “Who leads the Resistance?”

The silver fox simply glared at Shadow, even though he was trembling all over. “G-Go to hell!”

Amy lifted her skirts and hurried down the stairs. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded. “Why is everyone gathered here?”

Shadow acknowledged her presence with another flick of his ear. “A Resistance member,” he said disinterestedly, “caught sneaking into the palace again. He managed to slip through our grasp before, but this this time we caught him.”

“A Resistance member?” Amy said sharply. “Why was I not summoned at once?”

Shadow lifted his hand and tangled his fingers loosely in hers before pressing them to his lips. “A trifle, little rose. This fox’s miserable life is not worthy of your time or attention. He will be executed by the morrow.”

Amy fixed Shadow, then the Dark Presence, with a hard look. “I am the queen,” she said frostily. “Next time, you will summon me for any matters that concern my court.”

The Dark Presence warriors looked sheepish. Shadow met her gaze evenly. “As you wish,” he said finally.

Satisfied, Amy turned to the fox. Initially she had thought him no more than seventeen but on second glance she realised he was much younger – only around fifteen years old, she would have supposed. The fur of his muzzle was still soft and downy; his yellow eyes were bright and hopeful.

He reminded her of Tails, she realised suddenly. Tails, before he’d been captured by King Shadow and had his tail cut off.

“Hello,” Amy said softly. It was the sort of voice she might have used when speaking to a child. “My name is Queen Rose.”

The fox regarded her with unease. “I know who you are,” he said in an accusatory tone.

“Good,” Amy said. “So you’ll know that six months ago I was in the very same position as you: a member of the Resistance, being captured and interrogated by King Shadow.”

 He eyed her with cautious distrust, as if he wasn’t sure whether this was some kind of trick. “They – They say you betrayed us. That you jumped into bed with King Shadow as soon as you could to save your own skin.”

“Ha!” Amy scoffed wryly. “The king wishes it had been that easy. No, little fox. I fear it was the Resistance who abandoned me, not the other way around.”

She let her gaze rake over him curiously. The Resistance flag wrapped around his arm was remarkably clean; he could not have been working for the rebellion for long. How unfortunate that his time with the Resistance had ended almost as soon as it had started.

“You must be exceptionally cunning, to have snuck into the castle in spite of all the guards around,” Amy remarked. “Someone with those skills would be highly valued in the Dark Presence. Your crimes would be forgiven, and you would receive good coin for your services. Would you consider joining us?”

“I-I’m loyal to the Resistance!” the fox protested – but he could not keep the fear out of his voice.

Amy gazed at him sadly. Gods, he was merely a child. And here he was, about to throw his life away for an organisation that was utterly undeserving of his loyalty. Did he know that the Resistance had killed dozens of innocents in the pursuit of their goals? Had they told him that Knuckles was the former commander of the soldiers that now restrained him? Probably not, she reflected scathingly.

“Are you really willing to choose death,” Amy whispered, “when you have barely begun to live?”

The fox hesitated. She could see the undeniable fear glittering in his eyes. Shadow leaned forward, looking interested to hear his response.

“I believe in a free Mobius,” he answered.

Amy’s lips turned upwards in a sad smile. She could not argue with that.

King Shadow spoke. “Then he is of no further use to me. Take him to the dungeons. The execution will take place at dawn.”

Amy whipped around sharply. “Who said anything about an execution?”

“I did,” Shadow snarled, his fists tightening on the armrests of his throne. “This fox is allied to an organisation who would seek to have us both murdered in our sleep. The penalty for treason is death.”

“The penalty for treason was death when you alone ruled the kingdom,” Amy said coldly. “But you made me your queen in exchange for ceding political power to me. I seem to remember explaining to you that I wanted executions abolished.”

Shadow bared his teeth in a grimace. “Well then, Queen Rose,” he spat, “what would you have me do with your little Resistance friend?”

Amy took a moment to appraise the silver fox. He peered up at her, his yellow eyes a mixture of visible fear and youthful hope. It reminded her of how she had been when she was part of the Resistance.

“Let him go,”  said at last.

A deep growl of surprise ripped through Shadow’s chest. “What?” he thundered.

Amy flashed him a warning look. “You heard me, husband. The fox is merely a child. I would let him go.”

“I urge you to consider this decision carefully, wife,” King Shadow snarled back. “Free the fox, and you send the rebels the message that the Resistance can operate with impunity.”

“Even so, I still choose to free him,” Amy said. Her voice was soft, but firm. “I will not have the blood of a child on my hands. That is not how I wish to reign.”

The black hedgehog stared at her, his red eyes burning with cold fury. Amy met his gaze unrelentingly. At the foot of the throne, the Dark Presence shifted uncomfortably, as if they didn’t know whose orders to follow.

There was a long pause. The entire court seemed to hold its breath.

Then Shadow leaned back in the throne, a low chuckle escaping his lips. “See how fierce she grows?” he remarked softly. “She is learning to act like a queen.”

His gaze flicked to the Dark Presence soldiers.

“Do as she says and get this flea-ridden excuse for a fox out of my sight.”

The fox gave an audible breath of relief, his chest rising and falling as he exhaled. “T-Thank you, Queen Rose…”

But the gentleness Amy had used with the fox had vanished. Instead her face had turned impassive, as if she were carved from stone. She took the fox’s chin and tilted it upwards, so that he was forced to meet her icy green gaze.

“Run back to the Resistance,” she said. Her voice was hard. “Tell them what happened here today. Tell them that the only you are still alive is because Queen Rose decided to show you mercy.”

The fox swallowed and nodded vigorously. Then the Dark Presence took him away.

King Shadow waited until his court had vacated the throne room. Then he rose from the throne until he towered over Amy, his golden crown sat atop his quills like some hellish halo. His red eyes were furious.

“What,” he hissed, “do you think you’re playing at?”

Amy refused to take part in his game. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She tried to turn away but Shadow seized her wrist, pulling her closer to him.

“That little power play you pulled with the prisoner just then. Is your aim to undermine my authority in front of my entire court?”

“My aim is to exert the political power you granted me when you made me queen,” Amy retorted. “Or have you forgotten?”

“I think it’s you who has forgotten, little rose,” he growled, his voice dangerously low. “You may be my queen, but you rule over my kingdom. I urge you not to forget who the power really lies with here. Or do I need to remind you?”

They were so close that Amy could smell the faint scent of lavender hanging round his neck. The tension between them was so thick she could have cut it with a knife. In spite of everything, she could feel the familiar rush of heat to her lower region.

“Perhaps I need a reminder,” she whispered insolently.

Shadow sat and pulled her onto his lap, burying his face into her neck with a low moan. She straddled him from his seat on the throne, already feeling his desire straining against the thin fabric of her smallclothes. He allowed his hands to slide down her body to her rear, squeezing firmly.  

“Fuck – why did the gods punish me so by giving me someone as perfect as you?” he breathed hoarsely into her ear. “If I had married any other woman it would have been easy – I could have done my duty and nothing more. Instead I’m cursed to spend a lifetime in agony, watching you parade around in dresses that I’d much sooner rip off of you, trying to focus on doing my duty as king when all I want to do is take you over and over again…”

He freed her breasts from her dress and Amy gasped when he put his mouth there. With her hand she hurriedly moved her skirts aside and positioned herself above him; she could feel his claws digging into her thighs with urgency.

“You are mine,” he hissed – and then he was inside her, and Amy lost herself in him.