Serpent Emperor's Bride-Chapter 104: The Filthy Lies

[Silthara Palace—Throne Hall—Night—Continued]

The torches burned lower as the silence stretched; no one in the hall dared to move.

Aelira Veyrhold, her head bowed, her hands clasped tightly before her, though the tremor in her fingers betrayed the fear she tried to hide. The weight of the hall pressed on her from every side—the pillars, the braziers, the throne behind the emperor—all of it felt like judgment.

Zeramet stood only a few steps away, too close. His shadow covered her completely, and the golden glow in his eyes did not soften even slightly.

"Speak."

The word came quiet and deadly.

Aelira swallowed, forcing her voice to steady, "...Malik... I meant no disrespect to Zahryssar."

His expression did not change; his gaze sharpened further. "That was not the question. I asked why you came, and I do not ask twice out of patience."

The braziers crackled loudly, the only sound in the vast hall. Aelira slowly lifted her head, just enough to look at the floor in front of her.

"...I came... because I wished to speak with you."

A faint pause, not the answer he wanted. Zeramet’s eyes narrowed.

"With me." The words carried disbelief more than surprise. "You crossed borders without sigils... entered my capital without permission... stood in my hall without announcement..."

He stepped closer.

"...to speak with me?"

Aelira nodded faintly. "Yes, Malik."

His gaze searched her face as if trying to tear the truth out of it without words as he asked slowly, "And what matters...is so important...that it could not wait until your brother returned to Thalryn?"

Her fingers tightened together; for a moment she said nothing, then—"It concerns my brother."

The air in the hall grew colder. Zeramet’s eyes darkened as his voice lowered, "Careful. You were warned not to lie."

Zeramet did not blink; he did not move; he simply watched her as one watches a creature deciding whether to strike or to run.

"Why?" he asked quietly.

Aelira lifted her head slightly now, just enough for the torchlight to reveal her eyes, sharp and calculating.

Hidden beneath an innocent expression. "Do you know why... My brother went back to Thalryn?"

Zeramet frowned faintly as he answered coldly, "My consort missed his household; he wished to see his father, and he is the heir of Veyrhold; he has a responsibility to hold. That is reason enough."

Aelira inhaled softly, then dared to interrupt as his lips curved faintly, almost apologetically, "I beg forgiveness, Malik...but it seems you are far more innocent than the world believes."

The hall froze. Zeramet’s gaze sharpened like a blade being drawn from its sheath.

"...Choose your next words carefully."

But Aelira did not stop; her voice softened, almost sorrowful, yet something dark flickered beneath it. "I apologize, Malik, but you deserve to know that my brother will never return to Zahryssar, Malik."

The words echoed across the stone hall like a curse spoken before the gods; the torches crackled loudly, and the air grew heavy.

Zeramet did not move for a long moment, then—

"...Continue."

The single word carried enough weight to crush bone.

Aelira lowered her gaze again, her face carefully arranged into wounded innocence, though her eyes glimmered with something far less pure. She clasped her hands together as if ashamed.

"You deserve to know the truth, Malik. my brother was never meant to be your bride."

Silence.

"The one chosen for Zahryssar... was me."

The hall seemed to shrink; even the braziers burned lower, as if the flames themselves were listening.

"I was the one prepared to come to Silthara," she continued, her voice trembling in perfect imitation of sorrow. I was chosen by the emperor of Thalryn to be the Serpent Emperor’s consort.

Her fingers curled into her sleeves.

"But before the marriage could be completed... my brother stepped forward."

Zeramet’s eyes narrowed, and she continued.

"He took my place."

Quickly silenced by the suffocating pressure filling the hall. Aelira lowered her head again.

"I never gave my consent. I never agreed to it. But the threat of war had already been spoken..." Her voice shook. "You demanded the omega bride... and Father feared what would happen if Zahryssar was refused."

She looked up slowly, her eyes shining with false pain.

"So my brother offered himself."

Zeramet’s fingers curled slowly against the arm of the throne. Aelira continued, her words like poison.

"He said he would stay for one year... only one year. Long enough to calm the empire. Long enough to secure peace. After that... he would return to Thalryn... inherit the house... and Zahryssar would have no reason to march against us."

The silence that followed felt suffocating.

The air grew thick, heavy, and hot. Zeramet’s pheromones spread through the hall like a storm breaking over desert stone. Aelira’s breath caught in her throat as the pressure wrapped around her chest; her knees almost gave way.

Zeramet stepped down from the throne platform, slowly. Each step made the air tremble; his eyes burned like molten gold.

"It seems," he said, his voice no longer calm, "that people have taken my warning not to lie lightly."

The pressure in the hall doubled; the braziers flickered violently. Aelira gasped faintly as the pheromones crushed against her lungs, making it hard to breathe.

Zeramet stopped only a step away from her; his voice rose, not loud, but filled with fury that shook the walls.

"HOW DARE YOU." The words struck like thunder. "HOW DARE YOU UTTER SUCH FILTH ABOUT MY CONSORT."

The air became suffocating.

"Do you think," he continued, his voice dropping into something far more terrifying, "that I will believe every lie you spit simply because you wrap it in tears?"

Aelira’s fingers dug into her palms as she struggled to breathe. Inside her mind, her thoughts trembled.

’I knew he would be angry...but I did not think his presence alone would suffocate me...’ Her lips tightened. ’It does not matter...I did not come here with only one lie.’

Slowly, with shaking hands, she reached into the folds of her robe. Her voice came weak, broken by the pressure.

"I knew... you would not believe me; that is why... I did not come empty-handed."

Zeramet’s eyes narrowed dangerously; from inside her sleeve, Aelira pulled out a folded parchment sealed with the crest of Veyrhold. She held the letter forward with trembling fingers.

"This... is the letter my brother sent to Thalryn."

Her eyes lifted, meeting his for the first time, cold, sharp, and wicked beneath innocence.

"You may read it yourself, Malik."

The hall fell completely silent; even the flames seemed to stop moving, because now the lie had taken form.

The parchment rested in Zeramet’s hand, for several long moments, he did not move. The entire hall stood in suffocating silence as the Serpent Emperor slowly broke the seal and unfolded the letter. The crackle of parchment sounded unnaturally loud beneath the high ceiling.

His golden eyes moved across the lines, once, then again...and again. Each word written in the familiar hand he knew better than his own.

The ink strokes were precise. Calm and unmistakably Levin’s. The seal pressed at the bottom bore the mark of the Malika of Zahryssar. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Real.

Perfect.

Unquestionable.

The hall felt colder with every passing breath. Aelira watched him carefully from where she stood, her fingers trembling at her sides, though deep inside her eyes a faint, hidden anticipation flickered.

’Yes...read it, read every word and doubt him.’

Zeramet’s gaze continued down the page, the words spoke of duty.

Of return.

Of unfinished obligations in Thalryn.

Of promises made before the marriage.

Of one year.

Only one year.

And then—Silence. The parchment lowered slowly. Zeramet did not look at her immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the final line, his fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the letter.

Inside his mind, a single thought moved like a shadow as his thumb brushed over the seal,

’The writing... is his, the seal... is his.’ His jaw tightened faintly. ’Did my consort truly...’

The thought stopped, because another memory rose at once. Levin’s eyes, calm, gentle and steady. The way he had looked at him before leaving.

The way his hand had rested over his stomach without thinking, the way his voice softened when he said

’I will return.’

Zeramet’s fingers slowly curled, crushing the edge of the parchment slightly. ’No, there is no world in which my consort would do such things. I have to trust my consort....not someone else.’

His gaze finally lifted, slowly, and dangerously. It landed on Aelira. She straightened instinctively under that look, though her heart began to pound harder.

Zeramet studied her in silence, not with anger, but with something far worse.

Judgment.

"...The writing is his." His voice was low and flat. "And the seal is real."

Aelira’s lips parted slightly. "Yes, Malik... I told you the truth—"

"But the truth," he cut in quietly, "is not written on parchment. It is written in a man’s eyes, and I know my consort."

The temperature seemed to drop.

Aelira’s breath faltered. Zeramet folded the letter slowly, with deliberate care, as if the movement itself required restraint.

"...You crossed my borders without sigils. You entered my palace without permission. You stood before my throne..."

His voice lowered into something that made the torches flicker.

"...and tried to poison my mind against the one person in this empire I trust without question."

Aelira’s face paled.

"Malik, I—"

He did not let her finish, his voice thundered through the hall, no longer restrained.

"ENOUGH."

The sound struck the pillars like a storm breaking against stone.

The pressure of his pheromones flooded the hall instantly, thick, crushing, suffocating. The guards stiffened, servants lowered their heads, even the flames bent low in their braziers.

Zeramet’s eyes burned like molten gold.

"SOMEONE. ARREST LADY AELIRA VEYRHOLD."

The hall froze for half a heartbeat, then the imperial guards moved at once, armor ringing as they stepped forward.

Aelira’s eyes widened in shock, "Malik—!"

Two guards seized her arms before she could step back.

"Send her back to Thalryn," Zeramet continued coldly. "Under full escort, and until she leaves my borders... she will not speak to anyone without my permission."

Aelira struggled slightly in their grip, panic rising in her voice.

"Malik, you must believe me! The letter is the proof of everything! You cannot close your eyes and trust him blindly!"

The guards tightened their hold.

"He was never meant for you!" she cried, desperation breaking through her composure."My brother was never your chosen bride!"

Zeramet’s expression did not change, not even a flicker. Only his eyes grew colder.

"Take her away."

The words came like a death sentence. The guards dragged her backward across the marble floor as she continued to speak, her voice echoing through the hall.

"You will regret this, Malik! You are being deceived! He will not return to you! He never meant to stay—!"

Her voice faded as the doors of the throne hall opened, then closed. Silence returned, heavy and still. Zeramet stood unmoving for several breaths, the crushed edge of the letter still in his hand.

His fingers tightened slowly, his voice came low.

Almost to himself.

"...My consort would never decieve me." He closed his fist around the parchment. "And anyone who dares to make me doubt him...will pray the gods kill them before I do."