Claudia

The room was dim, the glow of shattered neon panels flickering weakly above me. The scent of burnt metal and scorched flesh lingered in the air, mixing with the acrid sting of plasma discharge. My body felt heavy, my armor scorched and dented from the ambush. Blood—my own—trickled down my side, pooling beneath me in sluggish streams. My wounds burned like fire beneath my skin, the energy residue from the enemy’s plasma rounds making every movement feel like molten steel pressing into my flesh.

I gritted my teeth. "Shit..." I muttered, the word barely escaping my lips. The comms were down, nothing but static where my squad’s voices should have been. They were gone. All of them. My brothers-in-arms, wiped out in an instant. I was the last one. A lone soldier in a warzone, abandoned, bleeding out in the ruins of what used to be our last line of defense.

I forced myself to move, dragging my battered body toward the only cover I could find—a supply room with a reinforced door. The auto-lock hissed shut behind me, the control panel flashing red as I sealed myself in. It wouldn’t hold forever, but it would buy me time. Time I wasn’t sure I even had.

Slumping against the wall, I struggled to keep my eyes open. My pulse pounded in my ears, my vision hazy. I was running out of options. The wound on my abdomen throbbed with each breath, the seared flesh from the plasma shot refusing to clot properly. If I didn’t get medical attention soon, I wouldn’t last the night.

And then—

A deafening crash.

The door burst open with a forceful kick, the reinforced plating groaning as it was torn from its locks. A figure stood in the entrance, the blue glow of her weapon casting long shadows across the room. My instincts flared, and with the last of my strength, I raised my own weapon.

A useless gesture.

The energy cells were drained—my rifle nothing more than an empty husk of metal in my hands. But I held it anyway, aiming it at the figure in the doorway in a desperate bluff.

She didn’t flinch.

The plasma rifle in her hands hummed softly, its barrel glowing with barely contained energy. A weapon that could sear through flesh and armor alike in a single shot. And its wielder?

Claudia Von Razelf.

The Princess of the Razelf Empire.

Even through my haze of pain, I recognized her. The ‘Bloody Royal.’ Unlike the cowards who sat on their thrones while others fought their wars, she was here—boots on the battlefield, hunting down the remnants of my fallen empire. A royalty who bathed in the blood of war.

She took a step forward, her smirk barely visible in the dim lighting. The plasma coils of her rifle pulsed with a dull light, its charge fully loaded. One pull of the trigger, and I’d be reduced to nothing more than another scorched corpse on the battlefield.

But if this was my end, I’d meet it with my dignity intact.

"A royalty in the battlefield…" I spat, my voice hoarse but unwavering. "You may destroy an empire, but at least I’ll kill you."

I kept my grip firm on my empty rifle, praying she wouldn’t realize it was nothing more than a bluff.

But she only laughed.

"The nerve," she scoffed, stepping closer. "You're bleeding out, barely holding that gun together, and you still threaten me?"

The blue glow of her weapon cast an eerie light across her features, making her crimson-brown eyes gleam with something between amusement and curiosity. She wasn’t intimidated. Not in the slightest.

She studied me for a moment, head tilting slightly, as if examining something fascinating.

"I like your eyes," she murmured, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Even in a hopeless situation, they’re still burning."

My breath hitched as she lowered her weapon just slightly—not enough to be unthreatening, but enough to let me know she didn’t intend to kill me. Not yet.

"You’ll make an interesting war prisoner."

A cold chill ran through my body at her words.

War prisoner.

Not dead. Not executed. Captured.

Her voice was almost sweet, but there was something twisted lurking beneath the surface. She wasn’t taking me as a prisoner of war. She was claiming me.

No. No, I wouldn’t let her—

My body betrayed me.

The edges of my vision darkened, my pulse slowing. I was slipping. My body was too weak, too drained.

I couldn’t fight it.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

I woke with a sharp breath, the cold air of the room stinging against my skin. My body ached, a deep, pulsing pain radiating from my wound.

The first thing I noticed was the bed beneath me—soft. Clean. The opposite of the cold, bloodstained ground I’d collapsed on.

The second thing I noticed—

No restraints.

My wrists were free. My legs weren’t bound.

Had my comrades rescued me? Had someone found me before the Razelf soldiers could claim me?

Hope flared for a split second—before the door hissed open.

I froze.

She entered with the same effortless confidence as before, the air shifting the moment she stepped inside.

Claudia Von Razelf.

The glow from the holo-lamps reflected off her short blonde hair, casting golden streaks against the cold steel walls. Her eyes locked onto mine, and the smirk I remembered from before returned.

"You're awake," she said, her voice smooth, controlled. "I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever open those stubborn eyes again."

My heart pounded.

The way she looked at me—it wasn’t like an enemy surveying a defeated soldier. It was something else.

Something worse.

"You must be wondering where you are," she continued, stepping closer. #"Don’t worry. You’re safe. For now."*

I clenched my fists, forcing my body to move despite the pain.

"Where am I?" I demanded, my voice rough.

She chuckled, tilting her head. "Somewhere far from the battlefield. Somewhere you can’t run from."

My stomach twisted. I was in enemy territory. Captured. Alone.

Her plasma pistol was holstered at her hip now, a weapon that could end me in an instant.

And yet, she hadn’t used it.

Not yet.

"You’re not dead," she whispered, almost teasing. "Because you belong to me now."

The weight of those words settled over me like a suffocating fog.

And I… was hers.