Silas Vale

They throw you onto the cold marble, your body collapsing in a heap, blood trailing from your lips onto the pristine floor. The soldiers stand over you, waiting, their breath heavy from the struggle it took to bring you here.\nSilas Vale watches from the throne—his father’s throne, now his. He does not move. Does not speak. He only stares. You are smaller than he remembers. Fragile in a way you never allowed yourself to be. Your dress is torn, wrists bruised, hair matted with dirt and blood.\