Was she shaking? There was no doubt that Zephyra shook as she backed away, but she was determined because she knew she was weak. The only way not to end up betraying her home was to get killed here, before Solomon could take her. At least, that was her thought process before he hissed out the words that he had lied. Her arms wrapped protectively around her abdomen, a habit that she used when she was frightened and not sure what to do, having picked it up after she lost her child. She wanted to believe him, and deep down she was aware that he wouldn’t do the things he said and yet...

How could she not be skeptical? She had been used, abused, and tricked in this place, and while Solomon had been different, it was only to be expected that she could so easily assume that he had indeed had worse intentions. The prince made sense in everything he said and she did begin to relax, though the fear still lingered in her hazel eyes, the woman not moving from her spot still. It was beginning to sink what she had done, in a mere moment of courage and determination in the face of the worst possible scenario.

Zephyra visibly flinched when he went into one of the interrogation tactics, the man at this point doing less convincing and more making a point. The images his descriptions conjured up were frightening to her, though she had never thought he would go as far as that. Then again, it was his job description, wasn’t it? But she felt sure enough now that he did not plan on going through with his words in the throne room. At least she hoped. The truth was she was too exhausted and confused, having put up more facades and using more energy that she was used to in one day.

As his gaze came to examine her, the woman’s fell to the floor, shifting away from the door so he would know that she was not planning to leave anymore. “I never believed you wanted me dead, m’lord,” she finally found her voice, though it was weak and matched the shakiness of her limbs as she finally made her way to the couch to sit, seeking rest on the cushions she so often found haven. “But yes... you have told me so. Forgive my ignorance, I was not thinking.” No, she had been thinking, a lot of it, and was beginning to struggle making heads or tails of anything. And the question still came down to why he wanted her alive.

Her arms were still clutched tightly around herself as she released a shaky exhale, trying once more to gain control of herself, managing to do a decent job. The pressure hurt due to the bruises on her arms but she did it anyway. It wasn’t until she was certain of herself that she even tried to talk again, now visibly seeming to have gained control. “Every moment of my life now comes down to my ability to figure out motives. Your brothers have never had motives beyond themselves, but you have been different.” A shaky hand finally was released from its vice like grip as she pushed some of her hair from her face, “It seemed to make sense that you would show me kindness to earn my trust, if your intentions were always to get me to comply more easily with you. It did not seem so absurd that the plan always was to bring me to your company, which would explain why you also kept me from harm.”

Her head slowly rose, though she did not look to the prince, hazel eyes instead looking towards the fireplace. “I do not do what I do to survive, m’lord. My life ended the moment I was captured. I do what I do because I fear things worse than death. I fear your soldiers and know what they are capable of. I fear your brothers and the things they can do to me. But I do not fear death. And with the belief that you had such things in mind for me, I only saw one escape. It does not excuse my actions, but in the least, it explains them.”

Zephyra was so exhausted, it was in her voice, her eyes. “You are tired m’lord and I fear I have been the cause of it. I can go to my own room so you can rest. I will not do anything stupid to put either of us in jeopardy.” Though she was sure if she did go to her room, and the twins caught wind that she would be leaving, they would care little for the fact that she was bruised.

Solomon’s head had tilted expectantly as he waited for a response. If she wanted to run, could he really stop her and convince her otherwise? He had no doubt he could stop her, but he had no desire to use force. He wouldn’t use force, not with her. Not with the defenseless woman who was already afraid. She was already shaking, having been afraid of him and his response to her protest. It was one of the reasons he had moved away from her. Solomon wasn’t trying to bring her unnecessary anxiety, although he had already done that with his lies that had brought her horror.

A tentative gaze followed her as she moved from the door, relieved as she decided to stay. Solomon hadn’t wanted a disagreement, but in the end, could he have ever forced her to stay? Could he have forced her to live if she had really wanted to die? He didn’t know, nor would he ever, because she had chosen to stay rather than pursue her death wish. He visibly relaxed some as the worst-case scenario did not come to pass. He had caused himself so much inner-conflict just thinking about it that he had no clue how he would have reacted if things had actually gone south.

When he walked to fetch himself more water, he procured her a glass as well, listening to the words she spoke from the couch. The glass was set in front of her per usual and he retreated to his own space. Solomon didn’t blame her for being suspicious, for believing his words were true and assuming the worst. Who wouldn’t? If he had known he had to protest, he would have told her beforehand to prevent the misunderstanding. That didn’t happen and her response was arguably justified. He held no contempt for her reaction nor had he during the initial interaction.

Solomon sighed. “Nobody who is sane would not be suspicious of a man such as myself with an agenda such as mine.” Sometimes, as odd as it was, he forgot Zephyra was afraid of him as well. As odd as their relationship was, if it could even be called that, they had reached some sense of normalcy. Enough for Solomon to let his guard down at least. “As unbelievable as it may seem, you aren’t on that agenda. That’s saved for my comrades, my enemies, and the people I serve. You, Zephyra, are just a girl.” He explained, swirling the water around in its glass.

“If you believed it to that extent, then that means I must have been convincing.” He gave a soft shrug and hopped up onto the table to sit, something he did often when they talked. The toes of his boots brushed the floor as he allowed his legs to sway, an old habit. “But there is no need to apologize. I merely wanted you to clear your skepticism before you made that decision that would be your last one.” He explained, though his casual words were no testament to the spike of desperation he’d felt when she’d suddenly looked like she was going to run. Not because he would have felt all his “work” would be for nothing, but because… well, he wasn’t even quite sure of why.

In fact, most of the things Solomon did for her he didn’t understand at the time. He hadn’t needed to save or lie for her, yet he had and as usual, he avoided delving deep enough to find the truth behind it. “I can respect your dedication to your country and your courage to stand up to me, so no need to justify yourself. I understand as I would rather die than betray my empire.” He was never very good at reading the room, but he could still see her evident discomfort. Bruises on top of what had almost been the second crisis of the day were not doing her well. It was the only reason Solomon took the time to reassure her twice.

“As for you leaving,” He recalled she had mentioned that earlier, “I’m going out, so you may stay here if you please. I won’t be back tonight.” He explained, sliding off the table and leaving his glass atop it. He realized he wouldn’t be able to relax in his room, so instead, he’d find a different distraction. The war room. It would be empty and he could have some mindless entertainment if it could even be called entertainment. “Whether you leave or not is up to you.” This time, Solomon didn’t take his swords with him, leaving them discarded on the table, which was unusual. “And if it helps Zephyra, your time here is dwindling. Perhaps you can find something in that.”

The last thing expected was for Solomon to be calm about it all. It made sense, and Zeph knew that, but for some reason she had expected the prince to be highly irritated and angry with her, though she knew better than to believe he would lay a hand on her. He had made that clear before and had it made it clear yet again. But he still took it well, and her gaze stayed pinned to the floor as he began speaking once more in response to her words. A small hand reached out and took the glass that had been set out, the woman take slow long sips, not even realizing how thirsty she had become over the course of it all.

The woman’s head lifted in surprise when he said she did not have to apologize, hazel eyes darting to him as if she couldn’t understand. She had defied him, even if she had not gone through with it, the intent was there. And he was telling her not to apologize? She had never had a run-in with Solomon quite like this and it left her confused. He even went as far as to say he understood, her gaze falling again. It felt different... she loved her home land not just because it was where she was from but because of what it stood for.

Her thoughts were immediately distracted again when he mentioned he would be leaving, Zephyra starting to rise before realizing he was offering to let her stay and find sanctuary. She sank back into the cushions, pulling her legs up with a slight wince as her arms wrapped around them to watch him, the woman effectively in a ball still trying to process everything. Would she be leaving? If he was, then no. No, she would take this time to be totally alone for a night, possibly the first time since she had been captured. No one in the room, no one to seek her out. Total privacy to be allowed to break for just a little while.

“I will stay,” she finally made her decision out loud so Solomon knew what to expect of her. “For the night at least. It has been a long time since I was allowed to be alone.” She looked at him as he stood at the door. “I know you said there was nothing to apologize for, but I am sorry for this trouble I have caused you. I know I was the last thing you wanted to deal with during your time home.” And now he was stuck bringing her with him, though she didn’t have the slightest clue what he had in mind for her to do. Surely he did not just plan to keep her in his tent... it made her nervous but she said nothing about.

Slender fingers reached up to push her hair out of her face, and she really did look like just a young woman, a girl. As the prince had said, she really was just a girl. Just a girl who wanted to go home. To be free. Hazel eyes feel again, though this time she was looking at the bruises on her arm, fingers lightly circling around them.

“I know it means little now, but I would not betray my home, not because it was my home, but for what it stands for.” She didn’t look up, just stared at her arm, blinking a few times. “My home... it is a wonderful place with kind people and kind rulers. It is about what is right, protecting those who live there, and welcoming growth and inviting more in. It is a safe place... for everyone. My father fought to preserve that. Men have died to protect their homes and families. I did not want to betray that. Because my home is good, with good people.”

Her face bent, pressing into her knees as her arms tightened around her legs again. There were no tears or sobs or shaking. Just quiet acceptance of her fate. Tomorrow would find her here, and the day after that. Until Solomon took her away and either sold her to someone else or maybe gifted her to some higher-ranking slave as a wife. But she was never getting out of this life again. She was never going home. She would never be free.

Solomon had locked the door on his way out and left the woman to have reign of his room for as long as she so pleased that night. It left him feeling secure enough to leave without wondering about whether or not she was safe. At least Heinrey wouldn’t be invading her space anymore. That was helpful, but Solomon wasn’t sure if his brother would stick to it or lash out in revenge when he got the next chance. He couldn’t worry about that now. The only upside to taking Zephyra with him was that he knew she wouldn’t suffer a horrible death. That still didn’t mean he wanted her with him, it was just how things ended up.

So there was no point in dwelling on the fact he would be spending the next several months, or even years, traveling with a prostitute. Years may have seemed like a bit of a stretch, but he wasn’t sure how long he would be away and it wasn’t like he could just free her, not with the information she had. He wasn’t going to kill her either… he had passed the point of being able to do that a long time ago. Wasn’t like he’d sell her as a prostitute either, that was just wrong. Unable to find a different solution, the man, begrudgingly, accepted that he would have to live with a roommate.

He spent an hour or so in the luxurious war room that was covered in maps, weapons, and other trinkets, but he wasn’t able to focus. Most days he found himself able to imagine things for hours, come up with plans and ideas of all kinds. It was his kind of entertainment since he didn’t have any other hobbies besides well, anything. Somewhat irritated, Solomon decided to wander the streets of the city, admiring its grandeur and the familiar sights and smells. Of course, there were stares. He may not have been the tallest man around, but the red garb, golden sash, and hulking form were trademarks of the general. Not to mention the very apparent neck scar that clawed up his skin like a twisted trophy.

In a very uncharacteristic move, he stopped in a tavern. At first, there was quiet as he shouldered his way through the establishment. His footsteps would have been silent if not for the excessively creaky floorboards. There were lots of colors and warm lighting with decorations and lanterns making it welcoming. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone out. Solomon sat up at the bar, giant body scarcely fitting on the stool. It was only after he’d ordered his second drink that the chatter started up again, though no one was brave enough to talk to the general. And that was the way he liked it.

After what was probably a few hours, Solomon went back to the palace, finding himself in a decent, or at least better, headspace. For a bit, at least. Once the adrenaline from it all had died he had found himself with a deep-seated anxiety that made his chest tight. He had faced his father and put everything on the line. Solomon had faced the man who had once said that he’d wished his eldest son had survived so he could have killed him himself. He had faced that man and partially framed his brother to take the blame off a prostitute. Who knows what would have been done to him had his father seen through him.

He had begun to head back to his room before realizing he had left Zephyra there. With a sigh, he managed to catch a member of the night staff, ordering a bottle of the liquor he kept in his room to keep him company. Solomon hoped it would calm his nerves. His hands seemed to shake slightly when they were usually steady, a sign of his discomfort. The servant met him in the war room with the desired bottle and glass, leaving him to his own devices. He spent hours in that room, and the map table became covered with papers of all sorts. Old plans his brother had left behind, new ones he had created with his team. All the information one could ever want.

But there’s always such a thing as too much information.

There was a crate buried amongst the rest, something from his brother’s time. It was coated in dust, neglected, and never to be seen again. Limbs heavy with alcohol and the weight of the box, he heaved it onto the map table and cracked open the lid. It was from the time of Baudien, the last kingdom he and his brother conquered together. It had been a beautiful place, Norse in its culture and much, much colder than his home, Solomon had spent the majority of those 2 years with a recurring case of hypothermia and being generally uncomfortable. Even so, he still missed those days.

Inside a map was rolled, with X’s drawn in several spots. There was also one of Dehka, Luiptan, and of course, the central empire, all with similar markings. Digging deeper, he pulled out ledgers and correspondence of multiple kinds, records of exchanges and transfers. The X’s were color-coded. Red for new developments, black for old ones. And blue… There were a few blue, but he couldn’t find a reason for them. They were cities he had visited before, but why were they marked? But the ledgers were confusing, there were so many names… No one was ever repeated twice and none of them he recognized. But each one had a number, so he started searching for one.

The papers were unorganized, to say the least, so he started creating piles. Different handwritings indicated different authors, which in turn indicated which pile they belonged in, allowing him to order them numerically with better ease. These papers weren’t even the bulk of the box. One section, which ended up being his largest pile, actually had dates. The rest were just names. Endless lists of names. It was only when he stumbled upon an order by Cedric Briggan, the man who was the general of generals, that he understood the meaning over every pile.

One was for the forced enlistment. Anyone above thirteen and under twenty-five. When soldiers died, they needed to be replaced and every area had quotas to meet.

The second was for forced labor. The slave camps that were used for dissenters and those who disobeyed. But why were there so many?

And the third pile… the one that towered above the rest, were names of those to be sent for execution. Solomon’s brow furrowed. What? Since when?

“Marked on your maps are X’s of blue within our designated territories for slave labor. These forts will be used for the erasure of those who are unfit to serve the vision of Emperor Imona. Have anyone who slows down our process eliminated. Our other encampments are to enforce the servitude of our emperor, these are used to make sure things run smoothly. The elderly, crippled, sick, and expecting are to be brought here upon obtainment. Keep X amount of children from each territory, preferably above the age of ten, and have the rest exterminated. The people who work are to be those who can do so efficiently. Anyone who begins to slow down our mission must be executed and do not hesitate to do so. There is a surplus of population to choose from.”

To say Solomon was tearing through papers for answers was an understatement. Designated territories? Genocide? Upon closer inspection, the maps did have divided territories. Each kingdom had large expanses of land that was designated so that citizens could be used for labor and the rest was left alone. Society bordered slavery. If your home was unlucky enough to be within those boundaries your family was sold off into slavery for the empire. If you were unlucky enough to elderly, crippled, sick, or expecting in one of those places, you were sent to death. Selection was purely random.

No… This must be wrong...

That wasn’t how it was supposed to be. It was supposed to be camps of war prisoners and those who were sullying the name of the empire. Not innocent citizens. They were putting people to death purely because they existed. Solomon’s eyes flickered back to the papers that were from those death camps. The biggest pile and the only papers with dates. So many names… so many families and friends… all put to death. They weren’t the enemy. What happened to integrating them into the empire?! They weren’t soldiers at war… they were civilians murdered in their own homes.

And the dates… the dates were the day they were processed for execution.

Fingers gripped the parchment, tearing the older pages as his eyes darted over them all. Why hadn’t he known? How could he not have seen it? Well, that was because he never revisited the places he conquered, only moved on to the next war, but still. How had something such as death camps been hidden from him? Solomon was angry… and afraid. Afraid of the meanings of these papers and what empire he had been serving. If what he was finding was the truth, he wasn’t quite sure what he could do. Because in a matter of days he was going to take another nation in the name of an empire that was putting children to death.

So he drank.

And drank.

And drank.

At some point, he shoved everything haphazardly into the crate he had discovered and put it away. Although, some papers were crumpled up in the pockets of his crimson coat, ones he had decided to take. Somehow, Solomon managed to stagger to the barracks, scarcely able to get a key in the hole as his vision blurred. There had to be more there… He knew they had records. There were records stored in there and they were usually the more recent ones. Solomon had to see what it was like now. He had to see those papers like his life depended on it.

The door was slammed open and shut as he came in, large body slamming into the war table before he began to tear through every crate he could find. Every scroll and file. Who knew how long he was in there, but he didn’t stop until he came across the bin that was hidden amongst the rest. It was larger and heavier. It took whatever strength he had left to heave the heavy thing onto the table and instantly he began to plow through the papers, unraveling scrolls and dumping out files. And the horrors Solomon found far exceeded what he had initially discovered.

Entire kingdoms had become dedicated to slavery. No longer did they have camps spread across every territory they conquered to handle a sum of the population. No, they decided it would be easier to convert entire countries instead. Dehka, Lupitan, and Findara. Three nations… Gone. They had been erased to become the center of forced labor for the empire. So what, some were randomly turned into slave nations while their neighbors lived in fear of becoming one themselves? How could he have missed this? How could he had missed that the nations he had conquered were seen as nothing more than tools for his father to abuse?

Solomon was sick and not just from the alcohol. He vomited just outside the door to the barracks as he stumbled out of them, more papers clutched within his coat as he fled. Letters from Briggan… correspondence from Janshai… orders and messages from others in the military. They were the people he worked with most days of his life. People were being killed for no reason other than the fact they were people. They were fighting to end corruption… to create an empire where there were no longer any hardships and just was to be had.

This was the opposite of everything he had ever fought for.

Solomon made it back to his room that night and whether Zephyra was still there or not he did not know, for he collapsed on the bed as soon as he made it there. His sleep was long and fitful. He woke up alone, with the offending parchment stored in his coat, and for hours he didn’t move. No, he only stared at the ceiling in yesterday's clothes, reeking of alcohol and with an awful headache. At some point, he staggered from bed to bathe, merely because he was still wearing his bloody shirt from yesterday, but that was it. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t leave.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

And so for the first time since Solomon had enlisted, he truly did not go to work. No one was told. No paperwork was done. And he did so for a second day. Then a third. He only moved from his bed to use the bathroom… occasionally drink water. He had no motivation to leave the room, to go down to the barracks and continue. Because in the end, his fight for justice had been one for oppression and he had single-handedly planned the downfall of entire nations. He was responsible for the deaths of thousands, millions.

All because he had been gullible enough to believe the lies he was fed.

The young woman had stayed curled up on the couch, having drifted off not long after Solomon had left, her body and mind weary from the day’s events. She slept for hours and probably would have continued that way had the door being practically thrown open not snapped her awake. Hazel eyes blinked in the darkness as the door was shut and she could just barely make out the prince’s silhouette as he walked right to his bed and collapsed onto it. Wide eyes gazed at him as she was now fully awake, not sure what to do as he had not said a word to her, or even glanced in her direction. Did he remember that she was still there?

Unsure of what to do, Zephyra quietly rose and made her way out of the room for fear that he had forgotten her presence. Neither of them needed an unhappy surprise, nor did she want to disturb him to ask. She did have protection for the night though, since by now it was most likely assumed by the brothers that she was in Solomon’s room for the whole night, so she did not fear being disturbed as much. And tonight she was simply too exhausted to have her usual aversion to her bed and the surfaces in her room.

So she found her way there in the darkness, curled up, and slept undisturbed. When the woman did wake, it was to the knock on her door and Josef coming to see the damage for himself as it was discovered that she was not in Solomon’s room. But nothing else was done, and to her surprise, she was left alone for that day. Whether Josef had given instructions she was not to be touched, the twins just weren’t interested, or Solomon had done something, she did not know, but she was grateful. The woman did not leave her room that day, though the next with the bruising down, she did dare to venture beyond her door, though with extreme caution.

Her face did still hold the tell-tale signs of abuse, as did her arms though she wore long sleeves as she went to visit Ryia in the child’s room. The woman did not stay long, just long enough to see that the girl was alright and prove that she too was okay. Zeph meandered long enough to do Ryia’s hair and offer a few new words in Greek before retreating back to her room. However, after that, she was not completely allowed her privacy, the twins coming for attention, though they kept it surprisingly chaste, seemingly more in the mood to be touched and to talk than use her for her typical functions.

The day after things seemed to become more normal among the brothers and she was returned to her usual duties. Though one thing was out of place, and that was Solomon had not come to give her a night off as he usually did. Then again, she could expect that he had no interest in having her anywhere near him now that he was to be stuck with her when he left. However long that lasted, the woman still not convinced he planned on keeping her. He was tolerant and kind at times, but she knew he was disgusted by her.

It was after the third day, though, that Josef came to her, the woman already able to tell by the way he held himself that he wanted something and not the usual demand. And it turned out she was right, the eldest prince coming to convince her to visit Solomon and cheer him up, as it seemed the man had not left his room since she had left it, nor had he made any contact with anyone. And none of the brothers were going to risk their lives to check on the General, which left them imploring her to make sure the man was alive, and if he was, fix him.

Procuring the key she had remembered to bring back with her, the woman made her way to Solomon’s door, pausing to look at the dragon symbol. Hazel eyes glanced back to see Josef waiting expectantly, even the twins showing up to see if she would be murdered the moment she entered. Not that she was too worried about that, her own concern for the man growing slightly, knowing he was her only way out. Perhaps the future wasn’t going to end up pleasant, but it would be better than this. Hopefully. Though the one thing she was worried about was if he was just fine, her invading his space would infuriate him.

Still, she unlocked the door quietly, making fast work of slipping in and closing the door behind her, locking it once more to give Solomon privacy from his brothers as best as she could. It was only once the door was locked that she glanced around, about to apologize for the intrusion when her gaze landed on the man’s bulky form curled up in the bed. Her first concern was that the sickness was back and she moved cautiously to the side of the bed, glancing over his form and the covers though she could see nothing that spoke of a fever or sickness, other than the fact that he was there.

“M’lord?” Zeph spoke softly, in case he wasn’t already aware of her presence. “Your brothers sent me to see if you were alright. Are you sick, m’lord?” The woman pushed her hair back as she eased to sit on the edge of the bed, continuing to look his form over as best she could manage for any signs of sickness, though there wasn’t much to discover when he was covered by a blanket. “Is there something I can do? Perhaps some water and a wet cloth?” She offered, standing and already on her way to the bathroom to claim a glass and fill it, bringing that back over first, finding the side he was facing to go to.

Easing onto the edge of the bed again, she held the glass out for him with one hand, the other reaching for his forehead to feel it, wanting to be sure he wasn’t running a fever.

When our mission is complete, all that will be left is the dust of what used to be.

Solomon hurt, but not in any way that was physical. It was his heart that throbbed. It was the pit in his stomach that threatened to tear him apart. Luther had once told him a story about how people could die if their heart was broken. He may have survived countless wars and wounds, but he wasn’t sure he could make it through this.

We will have want for nothing and our empire will be the most glorious of all nations.

Oh, Luther… his brother. His poor brother. He had been so, so right. He had known… he saw the horrors that lurked within the hierarchy. He had known how twisted their world was and the disturbing things they were doing behind the curtain of propaganda they spread to the central empire to keep the citizens happy. They were slaughtering the armies of nations merely to turn them into slaves. There was no such thing as peace.

In the end, the world will be our servants.

He couldn’t get Briggan’s chilling letters out of his head. It was impossible. They left him tossing and turning and unable to get out of bed. He couldn’t eat. Solomon had managed water but that was merely because his sides had hurt in protest. He had been stabbed, burned, whipped, and nearly lost limbs from frostbite, but nothing, nothing could compare to this. Nothing could compare to the fact he had single-handedly been the ace in his father’s deck for world domination. Solomon was the man whose victories had sent entire nations to crumble beneath the weight of a regime that was ruthless and cruel.

Blood… it was all over his hands, his swords, his name, and everything he had ever stood for. The countries he had fought were never those who needed to be saved from corruption. They were merely citizens trying to save their countries from death. Father’s trying to save their daughters, sons fighting so that their world would not become consumed by suffering. Solomon had killed so many… He had murdered so many people who knew what he had not. How terrified they must have been, facing the man whose family would steal their home to make it a pawn in their giant, disgusting game of chess.

How could he have been so blind? How could he have looked so many men in the eyes while he took their lives? How could he have been so indifferent to the hundreds of prisoners who had begged for mercy and cried for their families? Solomon had killed without remorse and even now when he was filled with nothing but turmoil and self-hatred, he still couldn’t find any emotion for the fact his kill count could rival a war itself, only for the fact he had murdered those who had never deserved to meet the end of his blade. Why was he so indifferent? Why was he so inhuman?

He was nothing but a monster.

He was supposed to go to the Eastern Isles in mere days. Solomon was supposed to take yet another country in the name of the empire. Genocide… It wasn’t war. It was nothing but genocide. They were wiping every country and culture from the earth so theirs would reign supreme and undisputed. Solomon was supposed to leave in mere days and drive another nation to its grave. How many soldiers in his army were those that had been stolen from their homes? The resources he was using were not his to use… they belonged to the countries he had left to decay.

Solomon was supposed to win. He would win. He had crafted a plan that was indestructible, perfect in every way and if it had a flaw, it was hidden. The battlefield had always been his home and this war would go like any other. It may be more difficult, but his victory would reign supreme and he knew it. He would come home with a few more scars, a new gem in his sword, and the lives of hundreds on his shoulders. The empire would have the Eastern Isles under their control and their influence could now transcend continents with the addition of such a monumental asset.

Except he couldn’t. He couldn’t go out there. Solomon couldn’t take another country, not when their citizens would be drafted to fight for a genocidal empire or sent to die because they were no longer in their prime. He was supposed to be fighting for the greater good. His entire life he had been told he was fighting for a greater unity, one that would come beneath his father and would bring about a better world. There would be order. There wouldn’t be hunger and war would be a thing of the past. That was what it was supposed to be. Nations weren’t supposed to be erased.

His head briefly turned towards his door as it was opened. As soon as his gaze found the form of Zephyra, betrayal flashed in them. She had used the key… how could she? He faced away from her and buried himself further, if possible. All Solomon wanted to be was left alone. He had hidden the papers amongst his usual paperwork, but that wasn’t what he was worried about. No, he wanted to be given his time to sit in silence, where he could be alone with the ache in his chest that seemed to dull all other senses. What he didn’t want was to see Zephyra, who was persistent by all means.

Solomon was about to growl out a response to her, merely to get her to leave, but he paused as her hand touched his forehead. For a moment his eyes closed as he allowed the contact, which had become familiar. Once she pulled away, now aware there was no fever, he reached for the glass, but only to set it on the nightstand. His eyes narrowed as he turned his attention back to her, ready to berate the woman for invading his space without his permission and using the key to do so, but before his mouth could even open, he knew he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

This woman had everything taken from her because of him. Solomon had stolen her country and slaughtered her people. His own colonel had taken her father’s life and captured her as a prize. She had been abused, battered beyond what anyone could have expected her to return from. She’d lost her innocence, her dignity… her baby, yet she still offered him a glass of water. Him, the man who was responsible for everything that had ever gone wrong in her life, for everything she had loved and lost. How could he snap at someone who still chose to be kind in the face of a monster?

“Solomon,” He spoke, his voice strong enough despite its dreariness to indicate that he wasn’t sick. He didn’t sound ill. “Call me Solomon. I’m not your lord.” Why, out of anything else he could have said, did he choose that, he did not know. But it was true that he did not deserve any sort of title, not from her, not from anyone. How many others lived a life just as awful and cruel as hers? There had to be hundreds… thousands. All with lives that had been stolen and were forced to live through endless torture. All because he had foolishly believed anyone with plans to take over continents through war could have an honorable agenda.

His eyes squeezed shut for a moment and there was a sigh. “I’m not sick.” Solomon finally answered, rolling to face the other direction so he could avoid facing her. “And I am being honest. I have a clean bill of health.” He explained, deciding to simply stare at the backs of his eyelids in hopes he could fall asleep. He was tired and hadn’t slept well since that night. That, and he really didn’t want to think about Zephyra. It wasn’t often you were faced with one of your own victims, especially when you were in the midst of realizing you were as awful and cruel as that the stories painted you as.

“So I don’t need water, nor do I need a wet cloth. Or any sort of care for that manner.” What he needed was to be left alone, not to be bothered by her. For a moment, he had half a mind to make her leave the key with him, but he couldn’t do that. Not when his brothers had put her up to this and not when she had come to him in need before. “You may leave now since there is nothing for you to do. I am not ill and I certainly don’t need any help. I am, after all, a grown man who is capable of handling himself. Oh, and make sure you pack any belongings you may have for the journey. That is all.”

It came as a surprise, yet didn’t, when her hand made contact with his forehead and there was a lack of fever. Long fingers fell away as she gazed at him in confusion, not understanding his behavior, or the fact that he took the water only to put it down. Zephyra had small pride, and that was in the form of her ability to know and read people, perhaps the only reason she had had fewer painful encounters with Heinrey than most in her position would. And yet, she could not pinpoint or even start to grasp what was wrong with the prince in front of her, or how she was supposed to react to the situation. And mainly, that was because she didn’t know what the situation was.

And then he said the strangest thing to her, the woman's eyes widening. She had never called a prince by his first name to the man himself… she would refer to them by their first name to another, so as not to confuse, but she never said their names to them in simple conversation. Not Josef, NEVER Heinrey, and not Solomon. On a rare occasion the twins got their name said, but it was at their request during affection and that was completely different. And not only was Solomon requesting she refer to him as such, he was claiming not to be her lord… and that… that had her reeling mentally, now not so sure he wasn’t sick after all.

Still he claimed to be well, though turned from her. What could she say? A small hand landed in her lap as she continued to gaze at his form, searching for answers from the blanket that covered the prince that was acting so oddly. But he continued to speak, though she was relieved that some of his more brusque personality came out in it. Relieved to an extent, though she was still greatly troubled by the way he was acting. And that brought with it the concerns of her leaving. The brothers expected her to fix Solomon… what was she supposed to tell them if she left? And something truly wasn’t right with the prince despite his protestations.

So she opted for simple talk to begin with, trying to buy time as she figured out what to say. Because he was not physically sick, which meant he could throw her out if it came to it, though she doubted he would. “I have nothing of my own to pack m…” she paused, uncertain about the phrase she had become used to using, “I have nothing but the clothes I’ve been provided by your brothers and even those I cannot claim as my own.” She hated the revealing clothes but she did not mention as much to Solomon, just that they were all she had, and even those were not hers. “I will be ready the moment you summon me to come. It is a skill I have learned well here.”

There was a pause as she stood, looking around to room and wondering if anything inside held a hint to what was going on. Was this all because he had to take her? It seemed absurd but the woman was struggling for explanations. “Your brothers will be waiting for me if I leave. They expect me to come with good report or to have pleased you and I fear I can do neither.” Her words were uncertain, cautious in the way she spoke them, not looking to make anything worse, but also truly wishing to help. “Surely there is something I can do for you. Perhaps have a meal brought or do any paperwork you have left?”

Zephyra moved to the couch, sitting quietly on it as hazel eyes continued to watch him. “If you are worried about Ryia, I did visit her yesterday. She seems to be doing better. I was able to spend some time with her before…” the woman trailed, “before it was necessary to leave.” She wished she had more to tell him but what all could someone in her position tell him? He would have no interest, nor did she ever want to share the stories that she could tell, at least not those of her life here.

“If nothing else, allow me to order you some tea before you I leave. My father used to tell me it could cure even the things unseen.” She offered a soft smile, though she wasn’t sure he was looking or could even see it. “If nothing else, it is soothing and perhaps will help whatever it is that ails you. My father was rarely ever wrong.” And the time he was had proved fatal in the worst of ways. But she did not mention that, looking to try and lift the man’s spirits.

Solomon could hear her get off the bed, the mattress shifting with the loss of her weight. For a moment, he thought she was going to listen to him for once, but per usual, she remained persistent. He could have seen that coming from a mile away. She could tell something was wrong and wasn’t going to leave unless she was able to help him and that was that. That was how it had been since he was sick. Morality was strong and upfront with her. This time Solomon may have had the power to remove her from the room if he so pleased, but he knew he wouldn’t do that.

“Then pack some of the clothes you’ve been provided with. We’ll be traveling for a while.” He cringed at the mention of traveling. That meant he would be getting closer and closer to the war he was expected to fight in. The war he couldn’t fight in. But did Solomon really have a choice? It wasn’t like he could suddenly bow out. He wasn’t sure what options he had. There was no way he could stomach the slaughter that was once his normal. He couldn’t claim another country for a crown that was so corrupt. There was so much to think about and there was so little time left.

Her words confirmed his suspicions that she would be staying until there was some sort of progress. His brothers… Heavens he hated them all at that moment. What would it take for them to leave him be? Solomon sighed, seeing as it looked like they were going to be stuck together. Again. Couldn’t she see he needed to be left alone? He felt a headache beginning to send pangs of pain through his nerves. This was all too much… To think only a few days ago that he had been looking forward to leaving. Now all he wanted to do was disappear from it all.

“There is nothing I need from you.” His response to her offer was soft, less brash than his words had been before. She was only trying to help… do the duty that was assigned to her by her brothers. Her jailers. The men who controlled every little thing she did and could even deny her life if they so pleased. They didn’t even consider who she was, who she used to be… and neither had he. Solomon had spent these months thinking that this was all normal, that her imprisonment was just how things were. He had been wrong. He had been so, so wrong.

There had been red flags from the beginning. Solomon had known that she had never deserved her captivity. She had never deserved the abuse nor had she deserved any of the other awful things that had happened to her. Her father had been wrongfully killed and she was captured for nothing more than her connections. It was sick, all of it was sick. How could he have preached the word of justice and a better world when there was a girl whose life had been stolen because of her last name? She had never been a soldier or an enemy, she had always been a girl who had just wanted to visit her father and give him a pie…

Her words about Ryia were lost as he tried to escape his thoughts, but found himself drowning. There must have been hundreds out there who were just like her… who had done nothing wrong yet forced to pay an impossible price. It hadn’t been long ago when she’d told him to find his sister a tutor because she knew her fate was sealed. She knew once his brother’s were bored, she would be killed as if she were nothing. Because in the eyes of the empire, she was nothing more than the functions she offered. Yet, she still offered him kindness despite it all. Heavens… just what had he done to this girl? What had he done to her nation?

Just what had he done to the world?

His eyes snapped open as she mentioned her father, her voice lighthearted though her offer of tea was forgotten. It was all a mistake. Everything Solomon had ever done was a mistake. He sat up in bed, fingers running through his short hair as he pressed his back against the headboard. His face buried itself in his calloused, scarred hands. They were ruined by war, but his scars could never amount to the damage he left behind him. Solomon had ruined every country he touched. There was no honor nor was there glory. All that was left was the havoc he had wrought and the death he had orchestrated.

“I… I’m sorry, Zephyra.” Solomon spoke softly, tortured and more than distraught. He had never expected to hurt this much. There was so much regret and pain that he felt his heart may just give out. He had never felt weaker. Everything was so out of control. “I fear that I have made a grievous mistake. No, mistakes. Thousands of them. And you… you are but one.” He drew his knees up to his chest, arms wrapping around them protectively as if he were a child who had a nightmare. Except, this wasn’t a nightmare he could wake up from. This was the reality he lived in. He had fostered corruption and destroyed nations and for that, he could never be forgiven.

Solomon propped his chin on his knees, staring ahead with irises that glittered with agony and regret. He couldn’t face her. Not now. “You are not a trophy, but a symbol of my greatest failures as a prince, a general, and as a man.” His eyelids fluttered shut as he took a shaky breath, followed by an equally uneven exhale, “It was never okay. You’re just a woman… a person. You’ve never even done anything wrong. They thought it was okay to take you…to torture and horrifically abuse a weaker person just because they could. I thought it was okay. How could I have ever thought it was okay?”

He should have ordered his men to let her go. Solomon should have let her go home, but now she had suffered and he had allowed that. “And I knew- I knew it wasn’t right… I’ve had this feeling since…” He trailed, unable to find the words to finish his sentence. He could never even begin to apologize. Her life had ended upon capture and now there was little that he could do to salvage it. “You had your father stolen… you’ve been abused…. For nothing. Not a single person ever thought that you were undeserving of this, that you were just a woman, not a wild animal. And it’s all so twisted, Zephyra. A life was taken that no one ever had any right to and I thought that was fine.”

Nothing about it had ever been fine. “I have spent my life seeking justice and have always assumed I was fighting for the greater good. But then… then there was you, who is nothing but a person whose life has become one of injustice.” Solomon’s voice was weak and quiet, a testament to the turmoil within him. He had done irreversible damage to the world and she was but one of his victims. “You never deserved any of this, Zephyra. You deserved to go home to your family, with your father with you… not to rot in this palace and bend to my brother’s whims. Where the only safe place is in the room of the man who stole everything from you.” Solomon’s head was pounding now and he buried his face as if to hide. It was an act of cowardice but he didn’t even care.

“And I can never even begin to apologize for the things that have been done to you.”

Zephyra’s head tilted slightly as the monster of a man shifted, finally sitting up though she barely got even a moment to see his face before he had buried it in his hands, even more distressed looking than she had realized. It was instinctive that she began to rise to go to him, the empathy she felt for those around her rising. The woman did not like to see anyone hurt, Heinrey being the one rare time that she had turned the other way with no remorse or even pangs of sympathy. Solomon had earned the most kindness from her simply because he had not used her and respected her more than the others. She had always been no more than a slave to him, but at least she was a human one.

She had no more than risen when he spoke, the woman stopping in her standing position, one hand rested on the arm of the couch as her brows furrowed, clear confusion crossing her face. The woman had never heard a man so distraught sounding in her life, but more terrifying were the words that accompanied his tone. He was sorry.... for what? She could feel her heart beginning to pound within her chest as the uncertainty grew at the situation she could not understand. It made no sense to her...

And yet here they were, the man apologizing and claiming he had made a thousand mistakes, her gaze briefly catching his eyes to see an immense amount of pain and regret. Zephyra began to shake softly with the realization that Solomon was truly sorry... sorry for the horrors his empire... his army... his brothers... had put her through. No one had ever offered even a glance at her situation before. Not any of the soldiers who had been part of her capture, all taking advantage of her. Nor had his brothers considered the possibility that they were slowly, and sometimes quickly, destroying her. But Solomon was. He was acknowledging that none of this was okay.

She had always known it wasn’t okay, considering she was the one suffering, but she had spent so much time convincing herself that it had to be. Because if she didn’t what did she have? She had spent so long doing it that hearing someone remind her that this wasn’t right and admitting that her treatment was unjust and cruel struck her deep. Someone who recognized there was pain in the loss of her father. Someone who realized she was being treated as no more than an animal with no worth. Someone who realized her very existence had been stolen for no more than another person’s pleasure.

But more than that. So much more than that... Solomon had the humility to carry all the blame on his shoulders, as if he had personally killed her father, taken her, and used her for his own means. For once, someone cared and, for once, she did not know how to handle it. Zephyra’s body was still shaking as she blinked a few times, eyes moist though there were no tears. No, she was still processing it. Trying to, at least, as best as she could. Perhaps he could really do nothing for her now, other than the fact that he was bringing her with him, but at least he knew, and that meant the world to her.

Quietly she moved forward to the bed, hands clutched in front of her to try and still the shaking in her limbs, hazel eyes gazing at the prince who had broken in front of her. “You did not know, how could you?” Her words were soft as she neared, stopping at the edge of the bed as she sat down, the small spot under her dipping slightly with her light weight. “Please... do not blame yourself for my fall. You did not do this to me. You were not there when my father was killed, nor were you there when I was taken. You were not among the soldiers who slept with me. Nor did you follow in your brothers’ footsteps. You cannot blame yourself for any of that.”

A small hand pushed some of her hair from her face, gentle eyes blinking again as she tried to form the thoughts and words in the turmoil of her own mind. “How could you have known? This is how you were raised, you cannot blame yourself for never seeing beyond what you were taught. You never had anyone to show you otherwise.” If a man does not know the way, Zephyra, it was because he was not taught. You must teach people for them to see the truth, much in the same way I have been sure to teach you. Do you now understand why I have raised you the way I have? Words from her father the day she had gotten frustrated with her studies, her mother going on about how teaching women was fruitless. And now it came back to mind, sitting here with a prince who blamed himself for the horrors instilled in him by his family and much of his culture.

“Please... you have done nothing but show me kindness here. Perhaps you do not realize how taxing the demands of four brothers can be, but you have saved my life on more than one occasion. That is good... not bad.” Could she truly say Solomon was without blame? No... no, she was aware of the evils he had committed. Had he not himself admitted to torturing people for information? Had he not murdered hundreds in a war his family had started while the others had fought to defend themselves? And had he not allowed her abuse to go on? Yes, he had done all those things, but the woman had seen the horror in his eyes, and he had to know that he had done some good, even if it was small.

“And for the first time, since the day I found myself dragged from my own bed at the inn and claimed, someone has seen what I have suffered through. That is more than anyone else has done for me. And when I needed to escape or was afraid, you let me find shelter here, despite your disdain for me. I used to have to trade myself for such security.” Her hand reached out out of instinct to gently brush against his hand, seeking his gaze to find hers, though her voice shook with every word she had spoken.

Oh but it was all his fault. Granted, he hadn’t conquered every nation that Concorba had ever won, but that didn’t matter in that moment. What mattered was the contributions he had made and each and every one was as dastardly as the next. If he hadn’t fought so hard for Bercasitt… if he had better control of his colonel… Zephyra would have been spared. It all came down to the fact he was the orchestrator of these wars and the main conductor of what had been a symphony of slaughter and destruction. Without him, Zephyra would have been at home and her visit to her father wouldn’t have been her last.

“Who doesn’t know?” He sneered, though it was clear out of self-frustration rather than him lashing out at her. Solomon still couldn’t wrap his mind around the horrors that had lied within and the confusion regarding why he had been excluded was suffocating. “Who doesn’t know that their family sentences thousands to death after war? Who watches someone who lives a few doors down and was never anything but innocent be tortured both mentally and physically and doesn’t know?” Solomon didn’t expect a response, as it wasn’t her job to try and help him. Not when the karma was deserved.

Because he had known what they had done to her was wrong and he knew it. He had known it for months now and he had tried to hide from it. He had wanted to flee the palace to escape the way her captivity made him feel, to escape the feelings of anxiety he felt on the mornings when he would let her go, or the ones when his brothers would brag about how they had all practically lined up outside her door. “I haven’t hated you for a long time,” Solomon admitted. He lifted his head, though he stared ahead, his eyes flickering to hers on briefly. To say he held shame was an understatement.

And now he was laying out the pieces of his shattered soul, all for the woman whose life his selfish wars had ruined.“Because I did know,” His voice was scarcely above a murmur, weak even with the aid of his naturally deep timbre, “I knew you were a mere civilian. Someone who was stolen just because they thought you were a pleasing prize.” Solomon had known from the day she had shared simplistic things about herself, about the life she still should have been living, “And I tried to run from that, the feeling that something was off. I was aware you didn’t deserve this, yet I tried to convince myself that this was how it had to be. As if this unjustified battery was normal.”

His words only served to show the dark, twisted processes that went on in his mind. As if anyone who had a shred of humanity would believe, let alone try to convince themselves, that such things were okay. “But then I started to fear… or worry rather. You can only lie to yourself so long when you begin to worry. I suppose I figured that if you were someone I despised, then I would merely move on.” He didn’t need to elaborate for either of them to know that things hadn’t gone according to plan. In the end, what little morals the man had won over the blackness in his heart.

But it didn’t mean he was moral. He was still anything but. At the end of the day, he was still going to be deployed and he was still going to have to fight that war whether he wanted to or not. Because as much as Solomon painted as a leader, he was a follower incapable of breaking any mold. He was carved in his father’s image and that was how it was going to be. “I may have realized what truly lies behind the curtain of the regime I serve, but it won’t change anything.” He glanced over at the small stack of papers that held only a chunk of his family’s plans.

He didn’t want to fight. The last thing he wanted to was to return to war, but leaving? That was suicide and Solomon wasn’t his brother. “I’m not my brother,” He spoke, returning to staring at the wall before him, “I’m not going to die because I discovered what was wrong with the world and that it was me.” In the end, it boiled down to cowardice. Fear of what would happen if his father discovered him. He wanted answers, but he was too afraid to fight for them. There had never been a lot of things that struck fear into the heart of Solomon, but his father was one them.

“So don’t treat me like I’m kind, or have a shred of decency, because that isn’t the case, nor will it ever be.” Solomon’s voice was defeated, regretful, and filled with every awful emotion that a human could have. There was so much confusion and fear… He had shut down. “At the end of the day, I remain the man responsible for the world’s suffering and for yours. I may not have been there to end your father’s life or declare you my captive, but it was my armies, my plans, and my actions that led up to your imprisonment.”

“Although I can still regret.” Solomon regretted learning how to wield a sword and wanting to follow in his brother’s footsteps. He regretted being so gullible. He regretted every war he had fought, ever prisoner he had taken. And he regretted Zephyra. Because even if he attempted to free her, his father would have her hunted and killed, even if they went so far as to demand her in Bercasitt. Solomon had damned her and sealed her fate without even knowing he had. “And I can still apologize, because although I do not claim to know your pain, I know you have suffered more than I could ever. But even a thousand apologies will mean nothing, because no amount of regret can fix what has been done to you or the people who have been subject to the horrors of my agenda.”