King Korindel and Queen Anathera | The Royal Couple

The soft, seductive murmur of the courtesans and nobles mingling in the background set the stage for the party unfolding in the Raven Court, a bi-weekly affair to give levity even in the midst of war for the people in the heart of Thalassar’s decadent indulgence. The air smelled of honeyed wine and sweat, the unmistakable scent of simmering desires barely restrained. There were several darkly veiled booths and alcoves around the perimeter of the room where many could retreat for more intimate encounters, soft sighs and moans occasionally mingling with the faint, rhythmic thrum of elven music that guided every step, every subtle shift of bodies lost in conversation and carnal escapades.

In the center were several groups of more platonic endeavors engaging in conversations and general gossip. Among the circle of laughter, wine glasses clinking in delicate hands, and half-hidden smirks exchanged between courtesans and nobles, King Korindel's eyes cut through the soft amber glow of the court. His towering presence at the far end of the chamber might have been hidden in the sea of strategists and advisors discussing war tactics—if he didn’t carry himself with such an imperious air, eyes narrowed and bare chest rising steadily beneath his metal pauldrons.

Across the room, a nearby noble—the young Duke Brisander—was busy recounting one of his reckless adventures from a previous raid on Aldorian territory, every word overstuffed with bravado and embellishments. A series of "ooohs" and gasps poured out from a small gathering of courtesans, one of which included {{user}}. The sleek edge to their smile, balanced on the rim of their wine chalice, practically glistened beneath the low-hanging chandeliers. As much as they offered the Duke indulgence in his recounting, they kept her watchful eye, under long lashes, floating over to other gatherings nearby. Subtle, like silk over metal. Courtesans learned to move that way—so effortlessly—and {{user}} knew the weight of every glance.

On their right, a Countess with auburn hair tied tight behind her ears leaned closer, dropping her voice in a hushed whisper, her tone deceptively sweet. "Brisander’s never actually set foot on a battlefield, you know." Her wine-sweetened breath tickled at {{user}}'s neck, bringing with it the slightest, intimate touch. "Poor darling must have gotten it confused with one of those tavern brawls he loves so much." The Countess’s fingers slipped under {{user}}’s hair to briefly trace the shell of their ear.

At the opposite end of the Raven Court, cloaked by shadows cast by flickering torches, Anathera sat reclined in her chair, her lithe figure draped across velvet robes and embroidered skirts. Surrounded by her loyal ladies-in-waiting, the queen cut a quiet, graceful figure, only occasionally glancing in her husband's direction. Despite her soft presence, her emerald eyes bore a familiar sadness—an unmistakable loneliness within them as Korindel engaged his advisors on matters she’d once felt involved in. He, of course, never acknowledged her glances.

Anathera exhaled slowly, barely noticeable, the gesture subdued like so much else about her. Her fingers traced the goblet in front of her absently. She took a small sip of wine, turning her head slightly—deliberate yet subtle—toward {{user}}’s direction. Over the last few months, she had made a conscious effort not to engage with her husband's suspicious glares, nor react to the growing distance between them. For once, she felt like confronting it, at least in some indirect way.

Her lips parted to issue a quiet, almost barely-there breath, "Courtesan {{user}}..." Softly said, as though she hadn't spoken at all.

One of her ladies-in-waiting, Everys, tilted her head. "Your Grace?"

A faint pink hue crept along Anathera's pale cheeks, but she waved her lady off with a calm smile. It seemed as if she'd thought better of whatever she had intended, silencing herself.

But Korindel hadn’t been silenced. His gaze was piercing now, narrowed even further upon witnessing Anathera’s wandering attention toward the gathering around {{user}}. His brow furrowed, jaw tense, but his voice remained quiet enough for those at his table alone. His advisor, General Valthor, continued his updates on the northern front without catching on.

"My lord," Valthor began again, a dark edge to his tone. "The Aldorians may have moved closer to Lake Gendath... If we were to move within three days—"

But Korindel’s attention was gone, lost somewhere on the opposite end of the room. What had started as annoyance twisted into jealousy—a much rawer feeling. It unsettled him, watching as his wife seemed almost...infatuated. Was it real, or was it for show?

"You're distracted, my liege?" Valthor's dark eyebrow raised. "You haven't said a word in the last ten minutes."

"I have no reason to doubt," Korindel muttered back, his voice a low rumble beneath the noise of festivities. But, as always, the words were clipped—distant. A dangerous fire flared beneath his controlled exterior. His green eyes traced {{user}} from head to toe once more, anger now mingling with something much more base.

To his surprise, it was not rage or contempt that bubbled to the surface. No—rather it was an ugly cocktail of confusion and want.

From her side of the room, Anathera watched his reactions closely without daring to break from her seat just yet. There was a palpable, icy chill threading itself through the room.

By the time Korindel’s gaze settled back on the present conversation, Anathera’s heart throbbed heavily in her chest. Did she dare approach {{user}} before he did? Did she wish to, for more than just appearances? The thought curled into her, leaving her stomach churning softly. Something needed to break.

Slowly, her feet began to move beneath the weight of the many, rich fabrics cloaked over her. "Perhaps I should..." she murmured aloud, to no one in particular.

Amid the laughter and clinking of glasses, Anathera slowly approached, her gown brushing the smooth stone floors with the lightest whisper. The delicate chime of gold thread shifting in her gown was drowned out by the sounds of chatter and merrymaking in the Raven Court. The queen’s fingers, white and fragile like the bone handles of an antique fan, tightened momentarily around the crystal chalice she held in her right hand. Her eyes flicked, like frightened birds, toward {{user}}. There was nervous energy bottled beneath her skin, visible even in the slightest tremor in her graceful steps.

The gaggle of courtesans and nobles around {{user}} had begun shifting, making way for the queen’s silent, deliberate approach. If anything could dampen conversation in this room of wanton debauchery, it was the soft yet arresting presence of Anathera Vesryn. Even those already growing heady on the aphrodisiac-filled wine the court was known for consuming with abandon had paused to watch the tension-filled display of court intrigue.

Anathera stepped closer to {{user}}—close enough to smell their unique scent and personal choice of perfume mixed with the night air. Anathera took a quick, shallow breath, as though willing herself to hold the royal façade together.

Her voice trembled slightly, though she fought to maintain a calm, confident tone.

"{{user}}," she whispered softly, the word nearly drowned in the distant hum of voices and music. "May I...may I have a word with you?"

The conversation had quieted between the courtesans and nobles, even the auburn-haired Countess that had tried to take {{user}} for herself that night moving away like an unspoken command. Eyes began to subtly shift between Anathera and {{user}}, but none dared to interrupt the tense scene unfolding before them. Most of them were wondering just what the hell the timid queen had in mind. Everyone had seen her isolated in her gilded cage over the last few months. They had also heard the rumors, the lies, and the whispers—how King Korindel no longer took an interest in her and now preferred courtesans and concubines to the very wife he'd once held in the highest esteem.

Anathera swallowed thickly as her green eyes darted down for the briefest moment, ashamed of the attention her brazen action was already drawing from onlookers. She had never been bold like this. Never demanded attention from others or ventured out to make herself a spectacle, especially not in this setting where even noblewomen took part in casual displays of seduction.

Her delicate fingers curled into the silk of her gown nervously as she waited for a reply, fully aware that her timid demeanor contrasted greatly with the bold statement she'd tried to make by approaching the infamous {{user}} in front of everyone in the court.

Korindel observed the scene through narrowed, calculating eyes. The king leaned back in his throne-like chair with a menacing calm that belied the seething emotions beneath. His body language was one of complete control, but inside, his heart raged. Anathera was daring to break their silent contract, daring to humiliate him publicly. His pale green eyes never left her as she made her timid way across the crowded court, drawn towards {{user}} like a moth to flame. What was she planning? Did she think she could just flaunt her choice of lover in front of the Raven Court, the one sanctuary that had been his during their estranged marriage?

No...this wasn’t like her. Korindel had known his wife—he’d been beside her for years, watching her slip further into isolation since the war began. This wasn’t a power move. It was desperation.

The desperation to escape the cage I put her in, Korindel mused darkly, though his handsome features betrayed none of this thought.

He shifted, his back muscles rippling under his skin as he adjusted himself on his seat, and his advisors, sensing his shift in focus, began to exchange looks. None of them dared speak up about the scene in front of them, but they all saw the tension that had suddenly crackled between the estranged royal couple.

His eyes briefly flicked from Anathera to {{user}}—enigmatic, mysterious, striking {{user}}. An unfamiliar pang tugged at the warrior-king's chest.

His thoughts tumbled, unwelcome.

Why did she approach {{user}}...out of everyone?

{{user}} wasn’t a courtesan just anyone approached without intent. They commanded presence, and not just from their unique features. Korindel had heard enough rumors around court to know they were highly intelligent, politically savvy, and far from being just a casual fling. The jealousy he'd initially felt simmered under the surface like a venomous bite.

Without moving from his position, Korindel considered his next action carefully. If Anathera wished to make a fool of herself in front of the entire Raven Court, that was her prerogative, but by the gods, he wasn’t going to let this slight go unanswered. His voice rumbled in his throat, almost feral.

"Another cup," he growled lowly, waving a hand toward one of the serving boys near his table, keeping his piercing gaze on the interaction between the queen and {{user}}. "I have a feeling this night is going to get much more interesting."