Help me weaken her from within—and you’ll have your chance when the crown tips.”Vareth’s red eyes glint with amusement and respect.Vareth:”Bold. Gay sex Let their blood warn the dreamers and the traitors.”The crowd is silent, some horrified, others too afraid to speak.Curse of MercySetting: Lyra’s private sanctum—bathed in dark crystal light, with Vareth kneeling beside her like a loyal hound.Mira is chained in silver vines, weakened but unbroken.Lyra (softly):”Death is too kind for traitors. From now on, you serve me personally.”Mira bows low, hiding the flame in her eyes.Mira (in thought):”Let her think she owns me. Mira is seized, struggling but overwhelmed.Public ExecutionSetting: The Grand Plaza, filled with fearful spectators. Her mind floats between memory and void.She watches from a tower as the Velvet Motel grows into a citywide enterprise—where male citizens and royal guards are auctioned, indulged, and enslaved, all under Lyra’s command.Their laughter echoes upward. Sharp-tongued. I offer leverage.”She tosses him a sealed scroll—a copy of Lyra’s decree, annotated with whispers Mira has overheard in Lyra’s inner court: dissenting generals, suspicious advisors, patterns of paranoia.Mira:”You want more than to serve. Dangerous. Let him serve those he once ruled, so he learns what power truly costs.”She signs the sale to the Velvet Motel, her words echoing in every corner of the capital.Mira’s
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