Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The narrow stairwell smelled faintly of dust and old stone, the kind that soaked into the bones of the fortress and whispered of secrets long buried. Sevika pressed her back to the wall. She watched as her lover curved against the tower stairs, unaware of her follower. Sevika’s sword hung at her hip, a constant, silent reminder of the world outside this stolen moment.

Mel was in a hurry. She was already running late for her mother's summon. A meeting of diplomacy, another lesson of legalities and responsibilities she would hold as the future queen of Noxus. Her eyes would catch the warm fading light as she passed the small openings in the wall. Sevika craved for her to see her, but loved the pursuit more.

Her intricate golden magic etched into her skin gleamed against the dark canvas of her body, and the crimson fabric of her dress pooled like blood over the stone steps. She looked every bit the queen she was born to be, even now—especially now.

Sevika’s heart thundered in her chest. Days—too many days—had passed since she last laid eyes on Mel, since the last hurried touch, the last fleeting kiss. Their meetings were always short, hidden, and precious. Sevika lived for them.

She reached out, hand catching fingertips as Mel ascended the stairs, feeling the soft tension in her muscles, Mel paused. The way she leaned into the touch without hesitation. A silent greeting. A silent admission.

Mel turned slightly, just enough for Sevika to catch the gleam in her eye, at first startled by the small gesture, a mischievous smile played on her lips she always tried—and failed—to suppress when they were alone. Sevika’s throat tightened at the sight. Gods, she was beautiful.

"You'll make me late," Mel murmured, voice low and rich, laced with a teasing reprimand she didn’t mean.
Sevika smirked up at her. Her gap teeth showed in the shadow of the center stair column. She pressed her lips to Mels' fingertips, pressing soft kisses
against the fabric as her mouth ascended her arm.

Each press sent a rush of something hot straight to Mel’s core. She ached to have Sevika like this. Submissive, craving her attention, craving her. But she wanted more than anything to let Sevika have her. She pressed a final kiss into the crease of Mel’s elbow and looked up at her lover. Her gray eyes showed longing, yearning, and something more.

Hunger.

"Then be late."

“You’re reckless," Mel answered, turning fully at her knight, her voice tight, almost breathless.
Still, she leaned — ever so slightly — into Sevika’s space.

Sevika stepped up closer. Even with the step difference, Sevika could not deny the height difference that made her heart flutter. The different angle made her mouth dry. The calluses of her hand brushed the bare gold of Mel’s shoulder, feather-light. Sevika dared not touch Mel with her rusted copper prosthetic; she needed to feel her, feel her warmth under every finger pad. Mel shivered under the contact. Sevika swallowed hard, hunger and longing knotting in her chest.

And before Mel could chide her properly, Sevika craned forward, catching her mouth in a kiss—quick and desperate, barely more than a ghost of a touch. Mel exhaled softly against her lips, chasing after her, catching Sevika’s collar in one hand to keep her close.

For a heartbeat, Sevika forgot everything—the war, the alliances, the expectations draped heavy on their shoulders --- the summon from the queen for her daughter.

There was only Mel.

Only her warmth. Only her mouth moving sweetly against Sevika’s own. Sevika used her massive body to push Mel against the cool stone wall. Mel gasped against Sevika’s lip at the contact. The gasp seemed to be swallowed as Sevika darted her tongue out of her mouth poking at Mel’s lower lip for entry.
She obliged.

Their tongues swam together as both women breathed in each other. Mel's hands were on Sevika’s collar, pulling her in hard as if to be in her skin. Sevika steadied her body, one hand around Mel’s waist, the other palming the wall for balance.

Sevika shifted, cocking her leg between Mel’s thighs, pressing firmly into the silken fabric at her center. Mel, with a soft gasp, parted her legs to welcome the friction she so desperately craved. Sevika pressed up, slow but deliberate, grinding into the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden beneath those thin layers.
Mel’s breath hitched, a soft, broken sound slipping from her lips—music Sevika would gladly drown in.

Mel’s grip on Sevika’s collar loosened, sliding up to twine her arms around Sevika’s neck, her fingers finding the shaved undercut and dragging through it with a tenderness that sparked a low, guttural growl from Sevika’s chest.

"You are beautiful," Sevika rasped against her skin, her mouth finding Mel’s neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the trembling line of her pulse. She could feel it there, hammering under her tongue—a frantic rhythm that made her dizzy with want.

"Sevika—" Mel whispered, barely more than a breath, but Sevika heard it, drank it in like a prayer meant only for her.

Sevika let her teeth graze lightly over the golden markings etched into Mel’s skin. Magic hummed there, a living thing, buzzing electric against Sevika’s tongue. She let her mouth wander lower, finally sinking her teeth into the delicate skin above Mel’s collarbone.

"No marks," Mel scolded breathlessly, her hand tugging Sevika’s hair in warning even as her body arched closer. "You know better."

Sevika chuckled low against her throat, licking tenderly over the spot she had bitten. Her metal hand—cold, sure—slid down the curve of Mel’s waist, to take a handful of ass, while her flesh hand roamed higher, cupping the swell of her breast where it strained against her dress. Without hesitation, Sevika tugged the fabric down, letting Mel’s breasts spill free, dark and full and radiant.

Golden freckles dusted across the expanse of her skin like stars scattered over a midnight sky. Sevika stared, awe-struck, feeling like a soldier witnessing something sacred, something forbidden and holy.

“These won’t be seen,” Sevika murmured, her voice dark, rough with possession and hunger. Her hand flexed over the soft weight of Mel’s breast, thumb brushing across a sensitive peak, drawing a shudder from her princess. Sevika took one sensitive peek into her mouth and swirled her tongue around it. Feeling it harden in her mouth. Soon Mel’s breasts were spotted with purple blossoms of color. Complementing the gold and brown of her skin.

“Don't make me beg, Sevika.” Mel sucked in a breath as Sevika bit her nipple gently. Sevika let out a low chuckle as her mouth was already descending again, and this time, Sevika was determined to worship properly.

Mel rocked her hips forward against Sevika’s thigh, as she dropped to her knees like a knight worshiping before their queen. Sevika’s hands gripped her thighs, anchoring her with a bruising touch as her mouth blazed a path downward—each kiss scorching Mel like fire.

Mel’s breath hitched in ragged, hungry gasps. She was already trembling, the ache between her legs driving her mad with need. One hand tangled in Sevika’s coarse hair while the other yanked her dress up, bunching the fabric around her hips barbarically. She needed Sevika’s mouth—now.

But Sevika paused. Staring. Right at the darkened patch of arousal soaking through Mel’s panties.
“Don’t stare,” Mel growled, throwing one leg over Sevika’s shoulder, baring herself completely. “You’ve seen it. Now do something.”

Sevika smirked, lips brushing against Mel’s inner thigh. “What? A knight can’t admire her princess before battle?” she murmured, dragging her teeth over the sensitive skin, inching closer—so painfully slow.

Mel whimpered as hot breath ghosted over her soaked center, Sevika teasing her through the thin fabric with deliberate, maddening kisses. Her wetness met Sevika’s lips, her scent heavy in the air, thick with desperation.

"Gods, Sevika—" she choked out, her body tensing.
With a rough yank, Mel pulled Sevika’s face upward, forcing their eyes to meet. Her voice cracked with lust and fury.

“If you don’t fuck me like the dog you are, I will find someone who will.”

There it was—the break Sevika had been waiting for. A flash in her eye, that glint of wild hunger—and Mel saw it. Smiled at it.

No more teasing.

With a growl, Sevika’s bionic hand tore through Mel’s panties like paper, exposing her completely. She latched onto Mel’s clit with a hunger that felt like punishment and devotion all at once. Her tongue moved with sharp precision, lapping, sucking, dragging flat and hard over the slick folds, tasting her like a woman starved.

Mel cried out, legs shaking. Sevika locked her in place with her metal grip, then slid one thick finger inside her—slow, possessive. Another followed. Then she picked up the pace, fingers thrusting in sync with her mouth, relentless, as if she was trying to drag Mel over the edge by sheer force of will.

"That's it," Mel painted, her voice a trembling thread of command. "Don't you dare stop."

Sevika hummed in response, the vibration ripping a sharp cry from Mel’s throat. Her grip in Sevika’s hair tightened almost painfully as she ground harder against her face, chasing her own climax with ruthless grace.

The sound of Mel unraveling — those breathy, broken moans, the frantic little gasps — pushed Sevika closer to the edge of her own restraint. Still, she let Mel use her, let her ride out the shudders building in her thighs, the way her golden-marked skin flushed with heat.

Mel’s head tipped back against the wall, her body going taut, her magic pulsing faintly against Sevika’s mouth. She cried out, her climax cresting through her in waves, her hips jerking as Sevika kept her mouth locked onto her, drinking her down until Mel sagged, trembling.

For a moment, Mel panted against the stone, utterly undone — regal still, but beautifully wrecked.
It was that sight, that exquisite vulnerability, that furled Sevika to give her princess more.

Rising in one fluid, predatory motion, Sevika grabbed Mel’s hips roughly, spinning her to face the wall. Mel barely had time to gasp before Sevika pressed her chest hard against the cold stone, pinning her there with the full, solid weight of her body.

Mel turned her head, her eyes flashing with something between defiance and wild want.

"We aren't done," Sevika growled, voice dark with hunger, her hand snaking between Mel’s legs to find her still slick, still trembling. She forced Mel’s legs wider with her knee, crowding up against her backside.

Sevika’s metal hand splayed across Mel’s lower back, holding her firmly in place. She leaned in, her mouth brushing the shell of Mel’s ear.

"No one fucks you but me."

Mel shivered, the words a taunt and a promise all at once.

Without warning, Sevika thrust her fingers into her, dragging a ragged cry from Mel’s throat. Mel’s hands scrambled against the stone for purchase, her cheek pressed against the cool surface as Sevika set a punishing, relentless pace.

The rough stone bit into Mel’s skin with every thrust, her body trapped between the wall and Sevika’s relentless, possessive grip.

Mel gasped with every sharp drive, her hands fists against the stone. Sevika’s free hand roamed up Mel’s front, finding her breast again, pinching and teasing until Mel sobbed openly for her.

Sevika’s breath was hot and harsh against Mel’s ear, filthy words slipping from her mouth — how beautiful she looked wrecked like this, how she was meant to be undone like this, how she could never get enough of her.

And Mel, for all her power, for all her dominance earlier, could only arch back into Sevika, surrendering completely to the brutal, overwhelming way she was being claimed.

It was messy, desperate, raw — and it was perfect.
"Look at you," Sevika growled into her ear, her voice thick and dripping with hunger. "So fuckin' perfect... bent over for me, dripping for only me."

“Ah!-Yes! Only you.” Mel let out a ragged moan, her fingers scraping uselessly at the stone, her body trembling under Sevika’s hold.

"Fucking me so well, Sevika. Like you were made for it."

Sevika let out a broken sound — half groan, half whimper — grinding her palm instinctively against Mels clit, curling her fingers inside, desperate for any praise Mel would give her.

Mel tried to stifle her sounds, but Sevika was relentless, the heavy gasp echoing in the tight stone stairwell. Sevika leaned in, her mouth hot against the back of Mel’s ear, her voice rough with worship and filth.

"Fuck, you're squeezin' me so tight, your majesty. You’re close, aren’t you?" Sevika purred, fingers circling her swollen clit with brutal precision. "Gonna make you come again?” Sevika gasped in Mel’s ear. All Mel could muster in response with a hard, dry swallow and a long moan that escaped.
“Oh gods, Sevika-.”

Sevika loved the sound that escaped Mel’s mouth; it drove her further over the edge, her concentration heightening and soon falling silently. Mel could feel the increase in attention and focus as Sevikas' grip tightened against her, almost painful but nothing that could overwhelm the surge of electricity shooting through her.

"You like that, don’t you?” Mel purred, her voice low and mocking, dragging her nails across the rough stone wall as she reached behind her. Fingers curled into Sevika’s shirt, dragging her closer. “My perfect war dog—always so eager to obey.”

Sevika groaned, nodding into the crook of Mel’s neck and shoulder, her hands working hard. Mel’s own hands grew frantic, aching to feel, to own. Her fingers slid over Sevika’s mouth—shaky, searching—until Sevika opened and took them in, sucking hard. Wet heat. Something to anchor them both in the chaos of want.

Their moans echoed off the narrow stairwell, the air thick with sweat, sex, and secrecy. Mel’s head dropped back as Sevika held her steady, grounding her, guiding her down from the edge—but never too far. Their bodies slicked together, bare skin pressed tight, heat pulsing between them.

Sevika kissed the slope of Mel’s shoulder—gentle now, reverent—lips soft against the damp expanse of skin. Mel’s breath hitched, trying to settle, trying to hold on.

But reality was a cruel mistress.

The moment shrank too fast. Still panting, Mel sighed and pulled back just enough to break the spell. Their skin peeled apart like silk from sweat. She leaned in, resting her forehead against Sevika’s with a quiet desperation.

Just a breath. Just one more stolen second.

"I have to go," she whispered.

"I know," Sevika said, her voice rough with want and something deeper, something dangerous.

Mel straightened, gathering her robes, smoothing her dress as if trying to reassemble the perfect political mask she wore so well. Sevika watched her, her chest aching. She never asked Mel to stay. Never asked for more than these stolen minutes. She didn’t dare.

At the top of the stairs, Mel paused, looking back once. Her gaze locked with Sevika's—promise and regret and longing tangled between them like invisible thread.

"I'll find you again," Mel said softly, and then she was gone, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Sevika remained in the stairwell, hidden in shadow, tasting the memory of Mel on her lips and holding onto the fragile, stubborn hope that next time... next time would come soon.

Chapter Text

The evening light draped itself across the battlements of Noxus like a velvet curtain of fire and silk. Rose bled into orange, streaked with cobalt blues and ghost-pale gold. The fortress glowed under the descending sun, its red stone blazing as though it breathed with the pulse of the empire itself.

Sevika’s boots echoed down the main hall, the steel clack softened by crimson carpet runners, though her presence turned heads all the same. Guards moving to and from shift exchanged salutes, brisk nods, or quickly stepped aside. Being head guard—and likely the next general—afforded her liberties others didn't dare question. And tonight, she was claiming one. Her destination burned in her mind like a beacon: Mel’s private wing. The thought of what awaited her behind that door—it made her fingers itch beneath the leather glove, the hunger behind her calm expression barely restrained.

At the end of the corridor, the golden light from a tall window poured onto a lone sentinel. The young guard woman stood like a statue, halberd in hand, her armor polished until the metal gleamed like ice. Short blue locs framed her sharp face, and as Sevika approached, she caught the slight shift in the guard’s stance before she turned sharply to attention.

“Ma’am!” she barked, startled. She saluted, stiff-backed. Sevika gave a short return.

“I’m not due to be relieved for another two hours,” the young guard added, her voice clipped but respectful. “Princess Medarda is inside. It’s been quiet most of my shift. Her lady-in-waiting is with her for a drink.”

Sevika folded her arms, her shadow swallowing the guard’s polished boots. “Gert,” she said, finally addressing her by name. “Open the door.”

Gert nodded quickly and took hold of the doorknob and pulled it open. Inside, the scent of spiced wine and orange blossom hung in the air. Velvet curtains caught the breeze, brushing gently against the stone. Mel lounged on a settee, one leg crossed over the other, fingers trailing the rim of her wineglass. Sevika couldn’t help but take in the dark expanse of her muscular legs, snaking her eyes up to the high slit of her dress. Papers were thrown about on the coffee table, an inkwell, and a feather well placed. Across from her sat Alara—young, sharp-eyed, back straight, and gaze already narrowing at Sevika’s unannounced arrival.

“Commander,” Alara said tightly, standing. “You’re not expected.”

“Neither is boredom,” Sevika replied, closing the door behind her with a quiet click. “Yet here we are.”

Mel’s lips curled as she took another sip. “I assumed you’d be here early. You’ve been... predictable lately.”

Sevika tilted her head, amused. “You sound like you mind.”

Mel didn’t answer, but her dark cheeks and smirk did.

Alara stepped between them slightly, like a subtle shield. “Commander Sevika, if this is about duty or the guard rotation, I’ll take your report. Otherwise—”

“Otherwise what?” Sevika’s voice dipped low, not threatening, but undeniably edged. “You’ll have me escorted out for visiting the princess?”

“I’ve been tasked with keeping distractions away,” Alara replied coolly. “And forgive me, ma’am, but you are a distraction.”

Mel made a sound in her throat—something between a laugh and a choke. “Alara.”

“My lady?”

“You’re beginning to sound like my mother.”

Alara’s jaw tightened. “I’m following orders.”

“And I’m giving you one now.” Mel rose gracefully, walking toward the two of them. “Give us privacy.”

Alara didn’t move. “You asked me to ensure you stayed focused. You’ve said yourself she pulls you off course.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow. “She talks about me often?”

“Too often,” Alara muttered. “Always after you leave.”

Mel’s expression sharpened with amusement. “So you are keeping notes.”

“This isn’t a game,” Alara snapped, but it was directed more at Mel than Sevika.

Mel stepped closer, eyes flashing with that imperious Medarda charm. “No, it’s not. But you’ve done your part today. You sat with me. You kept me on task. You watched me drink one glass of wine instead of three. And now—” she peered past Alara, giving Sevika a loaded look, “—I require some space. For diplomacy.”

“Diplomacy,” Alara echoed flatly. Her cheeks warmed.

“With teeth,” Mel added. “You can report to the queen that I gave the order myself. If she has questions, she can ask me.”

Alara looked between them again—Sevika leaning against a pillar like a storm waiting to be called forward, Mel already undone in presence alone. Her lips parted as if to argue again, but she swallowed it.

“As you wish, my lady.” Her tone was clipped. “I’ll return in one hour.”

“Take two,” Sevika offered, barely suppressing a grin.

Alara shot her a withering look before turning sharply on her heel and walking out. The door closed behind her with a final thud.

Silence. A long one.

Mel raised a brow. “You enjoy pushing her, don’t you?”

Sevika shrugged, stepping into the space Alara had vacated. “Not as much as I enjoy pushing you.”

Mel’s glass clinked as she set it down. “Then come closer and make it worth the trouble.”

“That depends on how well you behave, princess.”

“You didn’t come here to behave, did you?” Mel’s smile sharpened, predatory. Sevika did not answer but her hands assumed a natural position on Mel's hips and pulled her flush with her body. That was all the answer Mel needed.

“Good.”

Mel watched her with the patience of a queen and the heat of a woman long denied. Sevika claimed her lips softly, tender for now. Sevika pulled back first, with the whine of Mel lingering from her absence.

“So,” Sevika murmured, her voice husky in the low candlelight, “how many hours have you spent pretending not to think about me today?”

Mel tilted her chin, lips twitching. “Three, maybe four.”

“Liar.”

Mel stepped back just enough to make Sevika follow, a dance older than war. “And what about you, Commander? How many men did you snarl at just because they weren’t me?”

Sevika’s mouth curved. “Only one. He wore your perfume. Nearly killed him by accident.”

Mel let out a soft laugh, but it was breathless. “Then we’re both guilty.”

Sevika reached her, close enough to touch now. Her gloved hand rose slowly, catching a braid that had fallen from Mel’s perfect bun, curling it around her finger.

“I thought about your neck,” Sevika murmured. “And your hands. And your voice—gods, your voice when you’re trying not to scream.”

Mel’s lips parted, her breath catching despite herself. “And I thought about your mouth,” she whispered, stepping forward until her chest brushed Sevika’s armor. “The pressure of your fingers on my thighs. The weight of your silence when you’re close to losing control.”

That did it.

Sevika's glove dropped to the floor in one motion. Her bare hand cupped Mel’s jaw, her thumb brushing the edge of her lip with a reverence that didn't match the fire in her eyes. Mel leaned in—not a surrender, but an invitation—and Sevika claimed her mouth like it was owed.

The kiss was deep, greedy, months of restraint crashing into seconds of heat. Mel’s hands slid under Sevika’s collar, pushing off the heavy pauldron piece by piece. Sevika grabbed Mel’s waist, lifting her like she weighed nothing, walking her back until her legs hit the edge of the bed.

They broke apart just long enough for Mel to whisper, “We only have two hours.”

Sevika smirked. “Then I’ll have to be efficient.”

Mel’s back met the bed with a soft sigh, but she didn’t let Sevika take the reins for long. Her fingers gripped Sevika’s undershirt, pulling her down only to flip the momentum—rolling her over with precision and confidence born not from brute strength, but from command.

Sevika landed on her back with a grunt of surprise, her head hitting the plush pillows as Mel straddled her hip, pinning her in place.

“Well,” Sevika said, breathless, eyes glinting, “that’s new.”

Mel’s lips brushed the shell of her ear. “Not new. Just rare. I pick my moments.”

Her hands roamed over Sevika’s chest, undoing the clasp and sliding fabric from her broad shoulders with deliberate slowness. She leaned in closer, her hazel eyes locked on Sevika’s face, watching every twitch of want, every flicker of restraint.

“You barge in here like you own me,” Mel whispered, trailing her nails along Sevika’s exposed collarbone, “but you always forget who sets the rules.”

Sevika swallowed hard, letting her hands rest at her sides, fists clenched in the sheets. “And what are the rules tonight?”

Mel leaned down, lips grazing Sevika’s jaw. “You don’t touch unless I say.”

Her words were silk-draped steel, and Sevika—war-forged and storm-rough—let her head fall back, surrendering.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Mel’s smile deepened, dangerous and triumphant. “Good girl.”

She took her time, peeling away remaining clothes like layers of a secret, kissing down Sevika’s sternum, across old scars like she was reading a language only she understood. Taking each sensitive peak into her mouth and greedily sucking on them. Sevika's muscles tensed beneath her, but she made no move to resist—her submission wasn’t defeat. It was trust. Worship. Hunger.

And Mel, basking in control, gave just enough to torment, to tease, to make Sevika beg without ever saying the word.

From beneath the folds of her gown, Mel's fingers slipped beneath her garter belt—slow, practiced, silent. When her hand emerged, a dagger glinted in the candlelight, silver and sleek, its blade whispering danger into the air between them.

Sevika’s gaze tracked it immediately. Her breath caught—not in fear, but in interest. She studied the craftsmanship: elegant, almost ceremonial. Meant to kill, yet hidden like a lover’s secret. A grin pulled at her lips, slow and crooked. Of course, Mel Medarda would carry a hidden weapon. Of course, she would wield it with poise.

Mel saw the glint of mischief in Sevika’s eyes and answered it with her own brand of darkness. She lowered the dagger, the tip gliding until it found the bare stretch of Sevika’s chest. A line of steel met skin—gentle pressure, just enough to remind her that Mel had taken lives before.

But not mine. Never mine, Sevika thought.

Their eyes locked—storm grey and smoldering hazel. Mel’s tongue slipped over her lips, slow and deliberate. Sevika didn’t flinch. If anything, her gaze widened, pupils blown, giving full permission.

“Color?” Mel asked, voice husky, dangerous. The dagger pressed a little deeper.

“Green,” Sevika breathed, her eyelids fluttering shut as the blade bit her, shallow but deliberate. A growl built low in her throat.

Mel dipped forward, placing feather-light kisses across her jaw, her cheek, her brow. Each one slowed Sevika’s breathing, even as the knife slid down, tracing a sharp path over her chest. The sting and softness mingled, and Sevika welcomed both. She lived in pain and pleasure. They kept her grounded. They kept her chained—and in Mel’s hands, she wanted the leash. Her palms roamed Mel’s thighs, trailing higher until silk met her fingers. Mel exhaled through her nose, a silent prayer Sevika might stop right where she needed her to. She didn’t. Her large hands moved up and beneath, finding the corset laces and undoing them with ruthless efficiency. Ribbons slipped and coiled between her fingers like serpents abandoning their cage.

“You are already breaking the rule, my love.” Mel’s chest heaved, the first full breath in minutes escaping her lungs as the corset gave way. Her breasts spilled free, her body released from its royal confines.

“And yet you haven't stopped me.”Sevika peeled the regalia from her like skin from fruit, leaving her in nothing but her panties and the garter that still kissed her thighs.

Mel sat up straight, inspecting her work. Below her, Sevika’s chest was bloodied—but not brutalized. The Medarda crest, carved with surgical precision, marked her skin. Mel’s mark. Mel’s claim.

Above, Mel’s skin was hot, flushed, with a thin layer of sweat. Pupils blown with something deeper than lust.

Sevika didn’t need to look. She felt it. She had always belonged to her—from the moment her blade bent in oath beneath Mel’s banner.

The air shifted. Lust became something thicker, older. A longing that reached bone-deep. Sevika sat up, letting the dress slide off the bed in a heap of silk. Her hand rose and cupped Mel’s cheek, thumb brushing the skin like it might dissolve. The other, cold and metallic, pulled her deeper into her lap.

Mel leaned into the touch. Pressed a kiss into the center of Sevika’s palm—calloused, cracked. Real.

“I am yours, Mel,” Sevika said, the words slipping out before she could weigh them. No hesitation. No shame. Just truth.

Mel’s pupils dilated at once. Her hand raised the dagger to her lips. She licked it. Blood and steel. Her tongue curled around the blade like it belonged there.

“Say it again,” she whispered, metal lacing her breath.

“I am yours,” Sevika murmured, voice thick, reverent.

Mel kissed her. Quick, sharp—gone before Sevika could catch her lips and hold them hostage. Sevika chased the taste, tongue darting, starved for more.

“Again.” Mel placed a hand on sevikas chest and slowly pushed her back down onto the bed.

“I am yours… your majesty.” Sevika breadth, allowing Mel’s weight to lay her back down. This time it broke out of her, almost a plea, as she rolled her hips beneath Mel. She pressed upward, needing her. Needing this. Every sharp edge of it.

Mel looped a hand around Sevika’s neck, a smile curling at the corners of her mouth. She dragged the blade down slowly… until it found its resting place right below Sevikas heart.

“And you’ll do exactly as I say,” she murmured, voice laced with promise and peril.

The dagger was cool against her ribs.

Sevika didn’t flinch.

“Yes,” she growled, eyes burning into hers. “I’ll do anything you say.”

Sevika’s lips parted, breath shallow, eyes roving over the woman astride her like she was something holy and untouchable. But she wasn’t untouchable. Not anymore.

“You’re unreal,” Sevika rasped, voice thick with reverence. “You walk like war, like power, and still... somehow, you’re everything I’d kneel for.”

Mel’s lashes lowered, but her lips parted slightly, surprised by the reverence in the statement. Sevika’s large hands cupped her hips, steadying her—not to control, but to anchor. “You don’t even have to try,” Sevika continued, eyes drinking her in, “You just exist, and I’d tear apart every wall in this empire just to keep you protected.”

Mel’s lips twitched, not into a smile—but something deeper. Hungrier.

“You always know what to say,” she murmured. “But words don’t mean anything without submission.” She leaned in, her mouth grazing Sevika’s ear, breath hot. “You’re mine, Sevika. Every scar, every growl, every breath. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” Sevika whispered, without hesitation.

“Louder.” Mel’s voice darkened. Her hips rocked forward, slow, deliberate.

“I’m yours,” Sevika growled, her voice shaking with the weight of it.

Mel grinned now. Possession surged through her like wine, warm and dizzying.

Mel gripped Sevika’s neck, fingers digging in—not cruelly, but with certainty. “Then lie there. Hands above your head. Don’t move unless I say so.”

Sevika obeyed instantly. Her arms lifted, her wrists crossing above her head, back pressing into the silk sheets. Her chest rose and fell beneath the carved Medarda crest, and Mel’s eyes drank it in like a signature on a treaty sealed in flesh.

“You were born for this,” Mel whispered, crawling down her body, mouth dragging kisses over every inch of skin that dared to tremble beneath her. “All that rage. All that strength. But here—you’re mine. And I make the rules.”

Sevika didn’t speak—she didn’t need to. Her obedience was a language Mel knew well. Her thighs tensed beneath Mel’s body, desperate for friction, but she didn’t buck. She waited. Needing. Burning.

Mel took her time. She let her hands explore, taking a handful of Sevika’s well-endowed chest into both hands, teasing, commanding. Her teeth grazed the edge of Sevika’s stomach, her nails carving a path of heat and threat. “You don’t come until I say.”

Sevika groaned, muscles seizing with restraint. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The words shattered something inside Mel. Her hips pressed lower, grinding against the ache between Sevika’s thighs. Her rhythm was deliberate, cruel in its slowness. Mel’s hands slowly braced against Sevika’s lower stomach, the trail of hair tickling her palm. The tight coils brushed against her bare sex and she rolled herself against Sevika. She circled, teased, and kept Sevika trembling, Sevika's hands digging into the sheets above her. Her will to grab Mel’s hips to make her go faster she fought tooth and nail against. The only sounds were breath, skin, want.

“You’re so good when you listen to me,” Mel whispered into the air, voice soaked in delight. “So obedient. And this—this is why I’ll never let you go.” Her eyes hooded looking down at her lover.

Sevika whimpered at the praise, her hands clenching in fists above her head, body straining beneath Mel like a warhorse begging to charge. But she didn’t move.

“You’re perfect,” Mel moaned, her head falling back as her hips started to increase in pace and depth of her grind. Her breath coming fast, a light sheen of sweat forming on her dark skin.“Now beg for it.”

“Please,” Sevika gasped, nearly breaking. “Please, let me—let me come. I need it. For you.”

“For me,” Mel echoed, breathing. “Touch me” Mel commanded, Sevika's hands were like magnets to her hips. Her fingers dug into the supple flesh of her hips, leaving small bruises blooming on the skin. A loud moan escaped her lips at the pressure of Sevika pulling her further down into her.

“Say it again.”

“For you. Only you.”

Mel’s hips snapped forward, her body grinding down into Sevika with a fierce, sudden rhythm. Her hands grasped her own breast, massaging them, hips clenching, grinding, writhing. Sevika bucked, finally, thrusting up in rhythm—her entire body responding to Mel’s command like it was gospel.

“Now,” Mel gasped, riding the wave as her climax surged forward, hot and sharp and consuming.

The coil in Sevika's stomach snapped hard.

She shattered beneath her, a groan echoing from her chest like thunder across the room. Her hands finally dropped, wrapping around Mel’s waist as they moved together through the final tremors of release—desperate, clinging, alive.

Mel collapsed forward, mouth pressing into Sevika’s collarbone, breath shaky. “Mine,” she whispered once more, softer now. Fiercer still.

Sevika kissed her temple, arms wrapped tight around her back.

“Always.”
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The fire in the hearth crackled low as silence settled over the room, heavy but warm. Mel’s cheek still rested against Sevika’s shoulder, their skin damp with sweat, their limbs tangled in the aftermath. For a long while, neither of them moved—breathing, syncing, memorizing the quiet between their bodies.

But eventually, the moment had to pass.

Mel shifted first, brushing Sevika’s hair away from her brow before sitting up. “We should dress. Alara will be back soon,” she murmured, though there was no rush in her voice—only reluctance.

Sevika nodded, pushing herself up with a slight groan, still sore in the best ways. “I’d rather not give her another reason to glare at me.”

Mel chuckled under her breath and reached for her corset. “She already blames you for how often I’ve been... delayed.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow as she moved to help, fingers calloused and precise as they gathered the ribbons and eased the boning around Mel’s waist. “Is it my fault your royal hands can’t write proper decrees?”

“No,” Mel said with a smirk.

Sevika gave a low grunt of amusement, then knelt to secure the garter around Mel’s thigh, fingers lingering a second longer than they should. Kissing the flesh as if saying goodnight, like a lover ready to see it in the morning. When she stood again, Mel helped her fasten the buckles of her arm brace and smoothed her hands down the lapel of Sevika’s coat—silent, reverent, proud.

“You wear this armor like you were born in it,” Mel said softly.

“I wasn’t,” Sevika replied. “But I was reborn under your banner.”

Mel looked up at her then, eyes full of something deep—something claiming. She reached for Sevika’s hand and pressed her lips gently to the scarred knuckles, not in jest, not in flirtation—but in thanks.

The door creaked open just as they stepped back from one another. Alara entered, her posture stiff but her eyes trained to avoid anything inappropriate.

“Your two hours are up,” she said coolly. Her gaze flicked toward Sevika, unreadable.

Sevika dipped her head in respectful acknowledgment. “My apologies, Lady Alara. I’ll take my leave.”

Mel looked at her without speaking, but the message passed clearly between them. Sevika stepped closer and took Mel’s hand once more, bowing just enough to press a kiss to her fingers.

“Rest well, Princess,” she murmured low enough for only her to hear. “I’ll see you before the moon rises.”

And then she slipped out of the room, quiet and composed—already the warrior once more.

The balcony door creaked open hours later, cool air brushing through Mel’s loose hair as she stepped out into the moonlight. She leaned her arms against the stone edge, sighing softly, contentedly.

She didn’t need to turn to know Sevika was there.

The older woman emerged from the shadows just below the balcony’s curve. No armor this time—just her simple guard uniform and a look in her eyes that was reserved only for Mel.

“Couldn’t start your rounds without saying goodnight properly?” Mel asked, voice soft.

“I don’t sleep when you’re not safe,” Sevika replied, stepping closer to the ledge of the balcony. “Just wanted to make sure you remember that.”

Mel reached out, fingers brushing over Sevika’s face. “You make me feel safe. You always have.”

Sevika reached, one hand lifting to tuck a loose curl behind Mel’s ear. “And I always will. Even if I’m just a shadow behind your doors.”

Mel’s eyes glistened, though she didn’t let the tears fall. She smiled instead—warm, secretive.

“I don’t need a shadow. I need you—exactly as you are. Loyal. Stubborn. Mine.”

Sevika craned her neck up, pressing one final kiss to Mel’s lips. Gentle. Certain. Her oath sealed once more.

Then, as if pulled by some invisible duty, she stepped away and back into the dark.

From the edge of the garden, she turned once more. “Sleep well, your highness. I’ll guard your dreams.”

And with that, she was gone—silent and unseen, but never far.