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00valentina-writes00 · 18 days ago

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✞⛧ The Unlikely Marriage ✞⛧

Warnings: forced marriage, political manipulation, emotional turmoil, slow-burn romance, power dynamics, mature content (around the end), intimacy exploration, vulnerability, some fluffy moments

Word count: 19k

(I’m still in Hiatus but I really wanted to post what I’ve been working on for the past few days! I had this idea started about a week ago but actually sat down and finished it)

The air in the grand hall feels heavy, thick with the weight of your decision. Your heart pounds relentlessly in your chest, and the only thing you can hear is the rush of blood in your ears. The scent of roses from the wedding arrangements blends with the acrid bite of your own rising anxiety, suffocating you. Every part of your body seems to hum with tension, but you are helpless in your own skin. The political climate surrounding Arrilks has become a death sentence, and there's no way out. Noxian forces are coming, and your only chance at survival lies in the hands of Ambessa Medarda.

The whispers about her, those vicious, unrelenting rumors that circle like vultures, have haunted you for years. Ambessa—the Iron Lioness. The ruthless General of Noxus. You've heard the stories, seen the chilling accounts of her brutality, her cold calculations, her unshakable will. They speak of a woman who strikes fear into the hearts of men, a ruler whose ambition knows no bounds. You've been told that, to her, people are mere pieces on a chessboard—useful tools, dispensable when no longer needed.

And now you are a pawn.

Your fingers tremble as you touch the edge of the delicate lace on your wedding gown. The material feels foreign against your skin, an uncomfortable reminder that everything about this moment is a lie. There is no romance in this marriage, no love to hold onto, no future to look forward to. The wedding is nothing more than a political alliance—a transaction to ensure your country's survival under the protection of Noxus.

Arrilks—your home, your people—will remain safe, but at the cost of your freedom. The cost of your autonomy. The cost of your heart.

You've spent sleepless nights staring at the ceiling, the weight of the inevitable crushing you further with each passing hour. The offer of peace from Ambessa comes with a price too steep to ignore. She is no fool; she knows the value of your marriage. And you are nothing more than a tool to her—another pawn she must move into place in the intricate web of power that surrounds her.

There's no way to back out now.

The thought makes your stomach churn. You've already signed the papers, already sealed your fate with the ink of necessity. But that doesn't mean you have to accept it with grace. No, you can feel the simmering resentment building up in your chest, the sharp sting of injustice digging into your soul. You hate it. You hate the fact that you are being forced into this. You hate the fact that your life, your future, has been dictated by the whims of an empire and the cold ambition of a woman you've never even met.

The door creaks open, and your heart leaps in your chest. You don't have to turn to know who stands in the doorway. Her presence fills the room, a force that presses down on your shoulders like the weight of an entire army. The silence between you is heavy, thick with the unspoken understanding of what this marriage means.

Ambessa Medarda. She stands tall, her silhouette imposing and unforgiving in the doorway. At what you presume is 6'5", she towers over you—her commanding presence impossible to ignore. Her muscular frame, toned and defined from years of battle, is encased in a tailored black suit adorned with gold and silver accents. She wears the weight of her power like a second skin, and it is impossible to miss the way the room shifts when she enters. Every movement of hers is deliberate, precise. A woman used to being in control, to making the rules.

Her dark eyes lock onto you with a calculating intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel her gaze like a physical thing, sharp and assessing, though she says nothing. The air between you feels charged with an energy you can't escape, and you wonder how much of her coldness is real, how much of it is a mask. You wonder how much of her is left behind that mask.

But you are too bitter, too filled with your own resentment to think of such things now.

"Are you ready?" she asks, her voice a low, almost melodic rumble. It carries the weight of authority, but it is not unkind. It's a question, simple and direct. But it feels like an order.

Your throat tightens at the sound of her voice, at the way it demands your attention without even trying. You nod stiffly, your body stiffening in response to her commanding presence.

Ambessa's eyes flicker with something unreadable as she takes a step into the room. You can hear the soft scrape of leather against the floor as she moves closer, the scent of her cologne—a mixture of musk and something faintly metallic—washing over you. She stands before you now, towering over you with the quiet force of a storm that you know is always ready to break.

Her gaze drifts over you, taking in the details of your wedding gown, the way it clings to your body, the delicate lace at the hem. Her expression remains unchanged, though there's something unreadable in the depths of her eyes, a flicker of something too fleeting to grasp. She tilts her head slightly, her eyes narrowing in thought.

"You look... poised," she says, her lips curving into something that could almost be a smile, though it never reaches her eyes. It is a compliment, but it feels more like a calculated observation.

You feel a mix of anger and disbelief churn in your gut. Poised? You feel anything but poised. You feel trapped. But you bite your tongue, knowing that anger will get you nowhere here. Instead, you force a tight smile that doesn't reach your eyes either.

"Thank you, General Medarda," you say, the words leaving your mouth like acid.

Her smile falters, just slightly, before she straightens. "You don't have to thank me for anything," she says. Her voice is firm, unapologetic. There's no warmth in it—only the cold, harsh truth of the situation. She speaks as if this marriage is already sealed in both of your minds, as if nothing more need be said.

Your stomach twists with resentment at her coldness. It's as if she sees you as a tool to be used and nothing more.

The silence stretches between you, thick with the weight of everything that is left unsaid. You want to scream. You want to rail against this fate that has been thrust upon you, to throw your hands up and refuse to go through with this. But you know it's pointless. The Noxian forces are on their way, and your country needs protection. There's no way to stop this, no way to change your fate. You are a piece in a much larger game—one you don't have the power to control.

Finally, Ambessa steps forward, breaking the silence between you. Her movements are fluid, controlled. She reaches out and gently lifts your chin, her fingers calloused yet surprisingly gentle against your skin. You tense at her touch, but she doesn't pull back. Her grip is firm, unwavering, and you know she could crush you if she wanted to.

Her gaze holds yours, unblinking, calculating. You wonder if she can see the fire burning in your chest, the resentment, the anger, the fear. But then she speaks, her voice softer than before, though still heavy with purpose.

"Don't worry," she says. "This won't be as difficult as you think. In time, you'll understand why this is necessary."

You stare at her, uncertain of how to respond, your pulse pounding in your ears. For a moment, you wonder if there's more to her than the woman who has been painted in the whispers of others. But before you can think further, she steps away, her fingers leaving your chin.

The moment passes, but the tension in the air doesn't.

Ambessa's eyes linger on you one last time before she turns to leave.

"We'll have time to discuss our future later," she says, her voice cold and final. "For now, we have a wedding to attend to."

And with that, she exits the room, leaving you standing there, feeling more alone than you ever have before.

As you turn to follow her, you know that the future holds nothing but uncertainty. Nothing but duty. Nothing but the cold, distant obligation of a union born from necessity.

The grand hall feels suffocating as you step out of the room, the weight of the ceremony looming over you. You can feel the cool air brush against your skin, but it offers little relief from the heat of your anxiety. The sounds of the guests filter through the door behind you—laughter, murmurs, the soft rustle of silk and velvet—but it all feels distant, as if you're walking through a dream you can't wake from.

Ambessa's presence is a steadying force at your back, yet it feels like a cage. You don't want to be here. You don't want this. You don't want to stand before an altar, your future sealed by a contract, your country's survival bought with your freedom. The grand hall stretches before you, an unfeeling monument to the price you've had to pay for protection.

You try to focus, try to remind yourself why you're doing this. Arrilks needs peace. You need peace. But every breath you take feels like an echo of betrayal—betrayal of yourself, of everything you believed in. This marriage, this union with Ambessa, is a mockery of what you once dreamed of.

You step forward, your legs feeling heavy, your heart heavier. Ambessa's footsteps echo behind you, her presence as inescapable as the cold, hard truth that settles in your chest. She moves with quiet precision, never faltering, never questioning. It's as if she owns the very air around her, and you—well, you're just along for the ride.

The guests begin to quiet as you approach the altar, their gazes too sharp, too piercing, and you feel naked beneath them. You glance over your shoulder at Ambessa, her eyes dark and unreadable, though her presence still exudes that same overwhelming power.

"Are you ready?" she asks again, her voice low, measured. It's not a question. It's an instruction.

You don't answer right away, not sure what words could possibly convey the storm inside you. There is no readiness in you—there's only the sense of inevitability. The moment feels like a weight pressing down on your chest, but you can't back out now. Not without risking everything you've worked for. Not with the Noxian forces on the horizon.

A cold shiver runs down your spine, but you nod, the motion more out of duty than conviction. It's the only thing left to do.

Ambessa doesn't smile, doesn't offer any kind of reassurance. She simply turns toward the altar, her commanding presence filling the room once again, leaving no room for anything other than what is about to happen.

You move to stand beside her, your heart thundering in your chest, and for a brief, fleeting moment, you wish for anything but this. Anything but the coldness, the political games, the loss of everything that once meant something to you. But you know it's pointless to resist. There is no escaping the game.

Ambessa stands tall beside you, her stature a reminder of all you are about to lose. You keep your gaze straight ahead, not daring to look at her. Your chest tightens as the vows are exchanged, words that feel like chains wrapping around your heart. Each syllable feels like a further surrender of what little freedom you have left.

And when the ceremony ends, when the contract is sealed with a kiss that carries no warmth, no affection, you are left standing beside a woman who, despite her power, feels like a stranger. This marriage will bind you to her—physically, politically, emotionally. A union that was never meant to be anything more than survival.

As the guests begin to applaud, you catch a glimpse of Ambessa, her expression still unreadable, her gaze lingering on you just long enough to make your heart race. She's unreadable, cold, and calculating, but there's something else in the depths of her eyes—something almost imperceptible that you can't quite place.

—-

The door closes softly behind you, the heavy creak of its wooden frame sounding more like the closing of a coffin than the beginning of a new chapter. Your breath catches in your throat as you stand at the threshold of your shared chamber, pulse quickening in anticipation of what's to come. The air is thick with unspoken tension, and for a moment, you simply stand there—unsure, unnerved, unwilling to take the first step.

Ambessa stands by the large window, her back turned to you. The moonlight that filters through the thick curtains casts a silvery sheen over her commanding figure. She exudes power and control, her broad shoulders stiff with authority. The air around her feels charged, like she's always on the brink of battle, and you can't help but feel the weight of her presence press on you.

You take a tentative step forward, unsure of how to break the silence. "Ambessa," you say, your voice slightly wavering despite your efforts to remain composed.

She doesn't turn around. The silence stretches, but then, after a beat, she speaks—her voice low and controlled, a force unto itself. "Come, sit."

You hesitate, uncertainty lacing your movements. But you can't stay standing. The tension in the room demands you take a seat. Slowly, you move toward the massive bed at the center of the room. It feels too big for just the two of you. The emptiness of the space, despite the lavish surroundings, tightens the knot in your chest. It's hard to breathe in here, with the weight of everything that's unspoken hanging between you.

You sit at the edge, your hands trembling in your lap. Ambessa remains at the window, eyes distant, searching the night sky. You wonder if she's really here, in this room with you, or if she's lost in her thoughts, locked away behind walls that seem almost impossible to scale.

Minutes stretch into a suffocating silence. Her presence is overwhelming, filling every corner of the room with something you can't quite name. It's like she's made of stone—unyielding, unwavering. And yet, you sense something else in the air. A shift, an unseen crack in the fortress she's built around herself. You don't know if it's real, or just wishful thinking.

Finally, Ambessa speaks again, her voice softer, quieter than before. "I didn't want this," she says, surprising you more than you can admit. "Not like this."

You turn toward her, the words ringing in your ears. There's a vulnerability there—a crack in her armor, however small it may be. Her hands are clasped behind her back, her stance still proud and rigid, but there's something different in her tone now. It's a rare glimpse, one that makes your heart ache in ways you don't understand.

You search her expression for any sign that she's lying, but there's none. "What do you mean?" you ask, leaning forward slightly. You have to know, despite the uncertainty still crawling up your spine.

Ambessa doesn't meet your gaze. She just stares out the window, her voice distant. "I didn't want to marry you. But I needed to secure this alliance—this unity. Our people are at war, and I had no choice but to do what was necessary."

You stare at her back, the words sinking in. The shock is immediate. She didn't want this either? The woman who had seemed so cold, so calculated, had been forced into this just as much as you had. You swallow hard, but there's no easy way to process that truth. The weight of it makes your chest ache, and you feel an odd connection to her in that moment.

"You think you're the only one who has made sacrifices?" she mutters, but it's loud enough for you to hear, her voice tinged with bitterness.

Your heart races at her words, your own pulse quickening. There's a rawness in her tone now, one that you hadn't expected. She's not as invincible as she seemed.

You sit in stunned silence for a moment, absorbing the realization. You want to say something, but the words seem to get caught in your throat. How do you even respond to that? You didn't expect to find this... softness behind the walls she'd so carefully erected.

"I didn't expect this from you," you say quietly, unable to hide the confusion that's been eating at you. "I thought you'd see me as nothing more than a tool in your game."

Ambessa turns her gaze toward you then, her dark eyes locking with yours, intense and searching. "I see you for what you are," she replies, her voice steady, though there's still a trace of something softer beneath it. "I will never pretend this union is anything other than what it is. But don't mistake that for a lack of respect."

Her words hang in the air, heavy with truth. You nod slowly, processing the weight of it all. Respect. It's not love, but it's something. Something more than you thought.

You shift uncomfortably on the bed, unsure of what comes next. "But is this all we are, then? Just pawns in some political game?"

She doesn't answer immediately. For a long moment, the space between you both seems impossible to bridge. But then, she moves toward the bed, her steps purposeful, her presence undeniable. When she sits down beside you, her body cool and solid next to yours, the space between you feels both too large and too small at the same time.

Ambessa doesn't reach for you, doesn't speak, just settles beside you, her back to you in that deliberate gesture of separation. The tension in the air is thick, but somehow, it feels different now. It's not just suffocating. It's complicated..

You shift uncomfortably on the bed, your hands gripping the edge of the sheets. It's hard to breathe in the heavy silence that has fallen between you. You know that nothing has changed—this is still a political alliance, still a marriage of convenience. But something shifts in the air between you two, a subtle change that makes the space feel less suffocating. Maybe it's the brief glimpse of Ambessa's vulnerability, the rare crack in her hardened exterior, that makes you wonder if this union is doomed from the start—or if, in time, it could evolve into something more.

But that question remains unanswered as she moves toward the bed, her steps measured and sure, the weight of her presence undeniable. She doesn't speak as she climbs into the bed beside you, her body a cool, solid presence that fills the space between you. You are acutely aware of the distance that still separates you, both physically and emotionally.

Ambessa does not reach for you, does not offer comfort. She simply settles in beside you, her back turned toward you in a deliberate gesture of separation.

The bed feels vast, empty, and yet somehow too small for the tension that has built between you both.

You lie in the dark, your thoughts swirling in a whirlwind of confusion and frustration. The silence stretches on, thick with unspoken words, and the realization sinks in that this marriage will not be what you thought it would be. It will not be filled with love or passion, nor will it be easy. This is a union of necessity, one that will demand more from you than you've ever been prepared for.

And as you lie there, the weight of the night pressing down on you, you wonder just how far Ambessa's walls go. You wonder what lies beneath the cold exterior, what secret pain she carries with her. But for now, all you have is silence—the kind that rings loudest in the dark.

The night drags on, a slow, torturous procession of minutes that stretch into hours. And yet, despite the suffocating tension, you sense something in the air—a quiet, fragile crack in Ambessa's mask, a small, fragile opening where something deeper, more human, might still lie beneath.

But for now, the walls remain high.

—-

The streets of Noxus are alive with the energy of a city built on power and war. Massive stone structures rise like monuments to dominance, the air thick with the scent of iron and sweat. The people—soldiers, merchants, citizens—walk with purpose, their eyes locked forward, their posture straight as if the weight of their city rests on their shoulders. They know no other way of life. Everything in this city screams strength, authority, and conquest.

And here you stand, in the heart of it all, your body wrapped in the same elaborate garb meant to signal power, control, unity. A gown of deep crimson, embroidered with gold threads, drapes over your frame like a weight you can hardly bear. You feel its tightness in every step, the cold metal clasp at your neck threatening to suffocate you. You are presented before the people of Noxus, an alliance forged between their formidable empire and your homeland.

Beside you, Ambessa is a force. Her presence is undeniable, her posture straight and poised, the unyielding queen of her domain. The sharp angles of her face, the high collar of her own ceremonial attire, and the commanding way she moves—everything about her says that she belongs here, in this space of power. She doesn't flinch as the eyes of the Noxian nobility and citizens scrutinize her every move. She's made for this, forged in battle and hardened by years of commanding her people. Her strength, her resolve, her complete mastery of the world around her—it all comes through in a single glance. The very picture of Noxian authority.

But you? You can't hold it together.

Every step feels like it's a betrayal of everything you've ever known. The weight of the city presses down on you. The expectations—the ever-watchful eyes, the whispers at the edges of your vision—are like a thousand blades, aimed at your back. You don't belong here. Not like Ambessa. Not like this. You stand, your hands rigid by your sides, the smile you force onto your face as thin as a razor's edge.

You know that if you falter, if you let your guard down for even a moment, the game will be lost. This marriage, this alliance, is the only thing standing between your people and destruction. You don't have the luxury of being yourself, of showing weakness, of questioning the reality you've been thrust into.

But still, it gnaws at you. The anger, the confusion, the sense of utter wrongness. You try to stand tall, to match Ambessa's stature, but it's like pretending to be something you're not. You're forced to hide behind the mask of a proud wife, a willing partner to a woman who, until the night before, seemed as distant as the stars.

Ambessa's vulnerability, the small crack she'd shown—you can't afford to let it mean anything. You can't let it soften you, not here. Not in front of all these people. The tension between the two of you may have shifted last night, but today, you must return to the roles you've been given.

The crowd erupts in applause, loud and harsh, as you and Ambessa stand at the center of the grand hall. You hold your breath, forcing the smile to stay. They are watching you both, waiting for a sign of unity, of power. The strength of Noxus and the unity of this new empire. But the only thing you feel is a bitter emptiness gnawing at your stomach.

As the applause begins to die down, you feel Ambessa's gaze on you, sharp, expectant. You can feel her tension, too—she's locked in the same dance, the same game. She expects you to match her, to show nothing less than absolute control. Her eyes flicker to you for the slightest moment before she turns to address the crowd.

You watch as she speaks with the authority of a queen, her voice carrying through the chamber with practiced ease. She weaves words about power, strength, and unity. You know the speech. You know it's rehearsed. But as she speaks, you can't help but feel like a puppet with invisible strings pulling you along. She is convincing, commanding. But you? You stand there, forced to play your part, to nod at the right moments, to smile when expected.

The weight of it presses on you, and for a brief moment, everything feels too heavy. You can't do it. You can't stand there and pretend everything is fine when it's all wrong. Not when your heart is screaming for something more—something real. You want to scream, to tear down this façade, to make them understand that you are not part of this. That you never wanted any of this.

But you keep it inside. You swallow the words. You force the smile. You make yourself invisible beside Ambessa, as if you belong here, in this gilded cage. The night feels endless, the faces of the Noxian elite blurring together in your peripheral vision, their hollow smiles and nods offering nothing but reminders of the cage you've found yourself in.

When the event finally ends, and you and Ambessa return to the Medarda estate, the silence in the carriage is suffocating. It's not comfortable anymore, not after the mask you've been forced to wear. The air between you both feels thick and tense, heavier than it's ever been. You don't know how to face her, not after everything. You try to breathe, try to hold it together. But as the door to the estate closes behind you, the dam breaks.

Ambessa moves toward the common area with her usual grace, but you can't stay silent. Not anymore. You've had enough.

"How dare you?" you burst out, the words finally spilling from your mouth like a tidal wave. "How dare you expect me to act like everything's fine? Like I'm happy about this—about us?"

Ambessa stops in her tracks, her posture stiffening. The unyielding control she's always carried with her cracks just for a moment, and you can see it—the tiniest flicker of something vulnerable in her eyes. But she doesn't respond. She stands there, waiting for you to continue.

"Do you think I wanted this?" you scream, your voice shaking with the force of your anger. "Do you think I wanted to be married to you? To be forced into this alliance? My people are at war, and this is what I have to do—this is what we both have to do! But that doesn't mean I have to like it!"

You take a step forward, your hands shaking at your sides. Your chest is tight with frustration, with the realization that you've never felt more trapped in your life.

"Don't expect me to wear that smile anymore, Ambessa. Don't expect me to pretend that I'm content with this life we've been forced into." Your voice cracks with emotion, but you can't hold it in anymore. "You might be able to play the part, but I can't. I'm not you."

Ambessa doesn't speak immediately, her eyes dark and unreadable. For a long moment, you think she's going to say something cutting, something designed to shut you down, but she doesn't. She stands there, listening.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she steps forward. She doesn't yell back. She doesn't raise her voice. Instead, she speaks softly, her tone steady. "I understand," she says quietly, her voice carrying more weight than a thousand shouted words. "I understand what you're feeling. I do."

You blink at her, confused. "Then why—?"

“Because I'm in the same position, remember?," she says, cutting you off. "This marriage wasn't my choice either. But we both have our roles to play. We both have our duties."

She takes a deep breath, her eyes meeting yours with an intensity that you can't ignore. "I'm not asking you to be happy about it," she continues, her voice unwavering. "I'm not asking you to pretend. But this is what we both have to do, for the sake of both our clans."

The silence stretches between you both, heavy and thick. You want to argue, to scream that it's not fair—that you shouldn't have to do this—but a part of you understands. You don't want to. You don't like it. But there is no other choice.

"I can't promise that it will be easy," she adds, her gaze softening ever so slightly. "But I can promise you this: we will get through this."

You stand there, the weight of her words settling on your shoulders. The anger doesn't go away—it can't. But there is something in her words, something in the way she says them, that tells you she understands. For the first time, you feel like she's not just the cold, distant figure you've always seen. Maybe, just maybe, she's in this with you.

"Let's go," she says, her voice soft but firm. "We both have our duties."

You nod, the fight draining out of you. For now, there's nothing more to say.

——

The weeks that follow the wedding blur into a series of dull, expected events. Formalities are upheld, small courtesies exchanged, but each interaction feels like a ritual, a performance with no real stakes. Every moment with Ambessa feels like you're still standing on the outside of her world—an outsider in a fortress of walls she's carefully constructed around herself.

Despite the opulence of your surroundings and the constant display of wealth and power, there's an unspoken, suffocating silence that lingers between you. You've seen her up close now—seen the way she commands a room with nothing but the weight of her presence, felt the intensity of her gaze that cuts through the air like a sharpened blade. She's a woman of incredible control, always poised, always composed. Her power is tangible, so thick you can almost feel it in the air, yet she wears it effortlessly, a second skin.

You've been in her presence for weeks now, and still, nothing has changed. She's still distant, still unreachable in the way she presents herself to the world. That one time view of her cracked amour feeling like sand between your finger. Ambessa does not need affection. She does not seek reassurance. You are a wife in name only, and for now, you are content to play the role.

But even as you stand at the periphery, you begin to notice the subtle shifts, the way she regards you just slightly differently. It starts small—an added glance, a gesture of acknowledgment during meetings, when her sharp gaze lingers a moment longer than it has in the past. Her approach to you changes when she begins to involve you more in the affairs of Arrilks and noxus, the province that has become a pawn in your political marriage.

You assist her with decision-making, handling smaller matters she doesn't have the time or energy for. At first, she watches you carefully, as if testing your capability, but it doesn't take long before she begins to trust you with more—too much, perhaps. There's a moment, one sharp, fleeting second, when you realize that she's no longer just tolerating your presence. She's starting to rely on you.

It's in the way she speaks to you during meetings, no longer issuing orders but instead asking your opinion. It's in the shift of her posture when you step closer to offer advice or contribute an idea. She listens, a rare thing for someone as self-assured and authoritative as Ambessa, and you begin to understand that this woman—this powerful, indomitable leader—is not impervious to the weight of her responsibilities. She may not show it often, but she carries the burden of leadership with a quiet, constant pressure.

Her strength, you begin to realize, is not just a weapon—it's a shield, a necessity that has become as much a part of her as her breath. Ambessa is not untouchable. She is a survivor. The empire she's built—the empire you now find yourself wrapped up in—is not as stable as it appears from the outside. There are cracks, fractures beneath the surface, and you begin to glimpse them in the fleeting moments she allows herself to be more than just the Iron Lioness.

The first time she opens up to you, it's not a grand speech or an admission of weakness, but a small, almost inconsequential moment. You're standing in her private study, the two of you pouring over diplomatic reports when she pauses, her gaze distant as she sifts through the papers in front of her. The silence between you stretches, and then, almost without warning, she speaks.

"The empire is fragile," she says quietly, her voice laced with something you hadn't expected—an almost imperceptible strain. "I've built it through blood, through sacrifice... but sometimes I wonder if it's enough."

Her words hang in the air, and you find yourself caught off guard. You've always known that Ambessa was a leader forged in the fires of war, someone who has seen the worst the world has to offer. But hearing her speak of the fragility of her position—of the empire she's so carefully constructed—shakes something inside you. It's a vulnerability you hadn't seen for weeks.

For the second time since your marriage began, you see her not as a warlord or a matriarch but as a woman—one who is carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

"I can't afford to let it break," she continues, her voice growing more resolute as she looks at you, her sharp, calculating eyes locked onto yours. "I have too much at stake. Too much to lose."

You feel the weight of her words, the underlying fear that lingers beneath her steely exterior. There's no room for failure in her world. The stakes are too high, the price of defeat too great. And yet, she stands unyielding, determined.

"You don't need to carry this alone," you offer, your voice sounding foreign in the silence of the room. It's a statement, a truth you believe, but it's also a subtle offer—a promise you weren't sure you were ready to make.

For a moment, Ambessa's gaze softens—just a fraction. It's gone before you can fully grasp it, replaced by the cold, calculating look she's so adept at wearing, but for that brief second, you know you've reached her. She may not show it, but you've seen the weight of the world in her eyes. You've touched on something deeper than the political games you both play.

She turns back to the papers, her posture stiff and formal once more, but you notice the way her hand lingers over a particular document—how she fidgets with it before placing it aside. A small gesture, a subtle sign of the exhaustion that rests beneath her fierce exterior.

As the days progress, you find yourself drawn deeper into the complexities of Ambessa's world. The more you work with her, the more you come to admire the woman behind the leader—the way she handles everything with the precision of a master tactician. It's not just about politics; it's about survival. It's about the constant, grinding effort to maintain control in a world that is always shifting, always threatening to collapse beneath her feet.

And yet, despite her fierce determination, you begin to notice more cracks in the foundation. You start to see that, as much as Ambessa demands strength from others, she demands it from herself most of all. She has no room for weakness, no time to indulge in the things that others take for granted—like rest, like comfort, like care.

In the quiet moments, when the work slows and the two of you are left alone, you sense the toll it takes on her. The subtle tension in her shoulders. The way she sometimes rubs at her temples, her eyes closing as though the weight of her thoughts has become too much to bear. You catch glimpses of the exhaustion that gnaws at her, the quiet moments when her mask slips, and the sheer burden of leadership becomes too much for her to hide.

It's in these moments, when the room falls silent and the two of you sit side by side, working in tandem, that you begin to understand the truth. Ambessa is not unshakable. She is not invincible. She is a woman who has fought for everything she has, who has sacrificed countless pieces of herself to maintain her power. She is a leader who has built an empire on the strength of her will, but that strength comes at a cost.

You find yourself watching her more closely now, not just as a political spouse but as someone who, despite the distance between you, you are beginning to depend on. There's an unspoken understanding between you now—a mutual respect, a shared burden.

Ambessa's trust in you grows, bit by bit. She gives you more responsibility, more influence in the decisions that shape Arrilks and noxus’s future. The more you work alongside her, the more you see the fragility of the empire she has built, the more you understand the delicate balance she maintains. You realize that this partnership—this union of necessity—is not so simple after all. There's something more here, something deeper than either of you anticipated.

But there is a part of you that fights against it, that resists the growing sense of dependency you feel. It's not love yet, not by any means. But it's something new—something undeniable. A connection forged in the fires of power and politics, built on respect and shared burdens. And though you may not admit it aloud, the bond between you is beginning to grow stronger, shifting into something neither of you can control.

In the end, Ambessa remains a force to be reckoned with—a woman who knows no weakness, who will not bend, who will not break. But you also begin to see the cracks in her armor, the quiet moments when she allows herself to be something more than the Iron Lioness. And in those moments, you realize that this marriage, this partnership, may be more than just a political arrangement. It may, in time, become something far more complex—and far more real.

——

The fire crackled softly in the hearth as you sat in the corner of the room, nursing a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. It was late—too late for either of you to be awake—but sleep rarely came easy in Noxus. Not with the heavy weight of your situation pressing on your chest, not with the constant reminder that this wasn’t your home.

Ambessa sat at the table across from you, reviewing a pile of maps and documents. She hadn’t spoken much since returning from her meeting with her advisors, her focus seemingly glued to the parchment in front of her. That suited you just fine. Her silence gave you room to breathe, to think, to reflect.

And yet, something about the quiet tonight felt different. Not oppressive, exactly, but not peaceful either. The firelight cast flickering shadows across the walls, and the faint hum of the city outside reminded you how far you were from the rolling green hills and soft winds of your homeland.

“You’re staring.”

Her voice broke through your thoughts, startling you. Ambessa didn’t look up from her work, but her tone carried its usual edge—sharp, calculated, always aware.

You blinked, setting your cup down with a soft clink. “I wasn’t staring,” you muttered, though your voice lacked conviction.

Ambessa finally glanced up, one brow arched. “Is that so?”

There was something about her gaze that made you feel small, like she could see right through you. It was infuriating, really, how she could disarm you with nothing more than a look. But tonight, you were too tired to deflect. Too tired to pretend you weren’t aching for something familiar.

“I was thinking about home,” you admitted quietly, leaning back in your chair. “About Arrilks.”

At the mention of your homeland, Ambessa set her quill down and leaned back slightly, her expression unreadable. “Go on,” she said, her tone neutral.

You hesitated, unsure why you had even brought it up. But the words were already tumbling out of you before you could stop them.

“It’s so different from here,” you began, your voice soft but steady. “The air… it’s cleaner, lighter. The sky stretches on forever, and the fields—” You paused, a faint smile tugging at your lips as the memory filled your mind. “The fields bloom with wildflowers every spring. It’s like the whole world is painted in color.”

Ambessa listened, her dark eyes fixed on you. She didn’t interrupt, didn’t offer any snide remarks or cutting observations. She just… listened.

“And the people,” you continued, your chest tightening as you thought of the faces you’d left behind. “They’re not like Noxians. They’re kinder, gentler. They look out for each other, not because they have to, but because they want to. It’s… it’s home.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you looked away, embarrassed by the sudden surge of emotion. You hadn’t meant to get so personal. Sharing this part of yourself with Ambessa felt like laying a fragile piece of your soul bare, and you weren’t sure how she would respond.

For a long moment, she said nothing. The silence stretched between you, heavy and uncertain.

“I’ve heard of Arrilks, never been in person though” she said, her voice low and measured. “A place of beauty, they say. Peaceful. Idyllic.”

You nodded, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “It is. Or it was. Before the war.”

Ambessa’s gaze softened, just barely. It wasn’t pity—she would never offer that—but there was something in her expression that felt almost… understanding.

“Do you miss it?” she asked, her tone quieter than usual.

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Every day. But missing it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t bring it back.”

Ambessa leaned forward then, her elbows resting on the table as she studied you. “And yet, you speak of it with such reverence. Such love.”

“It’s all I have left of it,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “The memories. If I don’t hold onto them, who will?”

The room fell silent again, the fire crackling softly in the background. You risked a glance at Ambessa and were startled to find her watching you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“I don’t know what it’s like,” she admitted, her voice uncharacteristically vulnerable. “To have a place like that. A home worth missing.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, unsure what else to say.

Ambessa shook her head, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t be. It’s the way of things. Some are born to build homes. Others are born to conquer them.”

The words stung, but there was no malice in her tone. Just honesty.

You looked at her then, really looked at her, and for the first time in awhile, you saw something beyond the fearsome general and calculating politician. You saw a woman who had been shaped by war and duty, just as you had. A woman who, perhaps, understood the weight of loss more than she let on.

“Arrilks is still standing,” you said, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “Because of this alliance. Because of us. That has to count for something.”

Ambessa’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before she nodded, a solemn expression crossing her face. “It does.”

For the first time since your arrival in Noxus, you felt a flicker of something you couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t hope, exactly, but it was close. A fragile understanding, a bridge between two people who had once been nothing more than adversaries.

The fire burned low as the night stretched on, and though neither of you spoke again, the silence that settled between you felt different this time. Not empty, but full. Full of everything you hadn’t said, and everything you had.

—-

The flickering candlelight casts long shadows across the ornate walls of the study, dancing as if to the rhythm of a quiet storm that has yet to pass. The night is unusually still, the city sprawling below like a canvas of gleaming stone and iron. The usual hum of the noxus is muted in the distance, replaced by the crisp, sharp silence that fills the room you now stand in. It's this silence that draws you in, pulling you toward Ambessa, who stands at the grand window, her figure a silhouette against the twilight sky. The weight of her responsibilities, of the empire she's built and the fragile balance she treads, is almost palpable in the air between you.

You had expected this, after the heated argument in the council chamber. The sharp words, the heated tension, the relentless need for control—all of it had erupted like a thunderclap, and now, you find her here, stillness settling over her like a thick fog. She is alone, her posture unusually hunched, her broad shoulders burdened by something deeper than the ongoing political struggles. Something more personal, perhaps. And though she has yet to acknowledge your presence, you can see the weariness in her movements, in the way she stares out over the city with an intensity that has nothing to do with strategy and everything to do with something much more private.

For a moment, you stand in the doorway, contemplating whether to intrude upon her solitude. You know Ambessa well enough to understand that she does not welcome comfort, nor does she seek empathy. She does not need it. She is a woman who has learned to stand alone, to face the world with an unflinching gaze and the might of a general who has known the cost of leadership.

But as you watch her, the stiff set of her back, the slight slump of her shoulders that betray the unspoken weight she carries, a sudden impulse rises within you. Without thinking, you step forward, crossing the distance between you in quiet strides. Reaching her side, you hesitate for only a moment before your hand moves to her arm, a light, hesitant touch. It's a simple gesture, one that feels like a delicate offering, as if trying to bridge the chasm that has always kept the two of you separate. You push down your resentments towards the situation the both of you found yourself in, playing the role of her wife- not as a political gain, but as a source of comfort.

To your surprise, she does not flinch, nor does she pull away. Her body remains still, the only movement coming from the soft inhale she takes as if bracing herself for something. The tension in her frame is still there, but the sharp edges of her demeanor seem to soften. She allows the silence to stretch between you both, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air.

For several moments, neither of you speaks, the weight of the evening's events pressing down upon the both of you. But then, as if unable to bear the silence any longer, Ambessa finally turns her head, her dark eyes meeting yours with an intensity that, for once, feels more weary than calculating. She holds your gaze for a beat too long, as if weighing your sincerity, before her lips part, the words coming out in a low, almost defeated murmur.

"You think it's easy, don't you?" she says, her voice rough, laden with the exhaustion that has become so much a part of her. "To carry this, to wear the armor every day. To be the leader they expect me to be."

Her words cut through the air with a rawness that takes you off guard. Ambessa is not a woman given to admitting weakness, let alone vulnerability. Yet she was doing it once again. She has always been the one who stands tall, who commands respect with nothing more than the power of her presence. To hear her speak like this—so uncharacteristically open—makes your chest tighten, a sudden surge of empathy washing over you. You shake your head gently.

"I didn't ask for this," she continues, her voice growing quieter now, almost as if she's speaking more to herself than to you. "My father... he raised me to rule, to be strong. He had no time for softness, for weakness. And I..." She pauses, her jaw tightening as she looks away from you, eyes scanning the city below. "I had to be ruthless. It was the only way to survive. The only way to make sure I wouldn't be crushed beneath the weight of expectations."

You stand there, listening to her words, the gravity of her past sinking in. Ambessa's life has never been one of privilege or ease. She has not been born to the luxury of being seen as anything but a force of nature. Her upbringing, her father's harsh demands, have shaped her into the woman she is today—the Iron Lioness of Noxus. It's not just power she exudes, it's survival, born from the ruthless lessons she learned early in life.

And yet, as she stands here now, in front of you, a woman who has always prided herself on control, there's a crack in her armor. It's not much—just a tiny fissure—but it's enough to let you see the depth of the loneliness that has quietly defined her existence. The pain she's buried beneath layers of strategy, ambition, and cold pragmatism.

"Do you think I wanted this life?" she asks, her gaze returning to you with an intensity that could burn if it weren't so filled with something softer. "Do you think I wanted to build this empire only to watch it crumble? To live with the constant fear that one wrong decision could bring it all down?"

There's a tremor in her voice now, one that she quickly suppresses, but it's there. A crack in her unshakable exterior, and you feel something stir within you—sympathy, understanding, a deep, unsettling ache for the woman who has spent her entire life fighting for power, for control, only to find herself burdened by it.

Ambessa turns fully to face you now, her eyes searching yours, as though trying to gauge if you understand, if you can truly see her for who she is beneath the layers of command and strength. For the third time, you see that she is not the indomitable warlord she presents herself as, but a woman who has spent a lifetime trying to balance the weight of her legacy with the pain of her solitude.

"Sometimes I wonder if it was all worth it," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "If I've done enough to secure the Medarda name, or if I've just... destroyed everything that mattered."

The confession hangs in the air between you, raw and unfiltered, and it shakes you more than you care to admit. You can see the internal struggle etched across her face—the conflict between the woman who wants to protect her family and the woman who has sacrificed so much to ensure their power. There is no simple answer for her, no easy way out.

You find yourself stepping closer, instinctively reaching out to her once more, this time with a greater sense of understanding. The touch you offer this time is not tentative, but a quiet reassurance, the kind that you've never thought to offer her before. Ambessa may not crave affection, but there's something in the way she lets you get close, in the way she doesn't pull away, that speaks volumes.

"You've done more than enough," you say, your voice steady and calm, despite the emotions swirling within you. "You've fought for everything you have. And maybe... maybe that's enough. Maybe it's more than enough."

Her gaze softens more, just barely, and for a moment, the fierceness in her eyes fades into something quieter, something more human. It's a vulnerability she has not shown to many, and certainly not to you other than rare occasions—yet here it is, raw and exposed. Ambessa Medarda, the woman who has ruled with strength and authority, now standing before you in her most honest form.

"I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself for the things I've done," she says quietly, her voice laced with regret. "But maybe, in time, I can learn to accept them."

You don't answer at first, unsure of how to offer comfort to a woman like her. But you know one thing for certain—this moment, this shared silence between you both, is a turning point. You've seen a side of Ambessa that no one else has, and it changes the way you view her. She is not just the iron-willed general, the calculating tactician. She is a woman, scarred and burdened by her choices, but still standing—still fighting.

And in this silence, you find yourself drawn closer to her, not as a political partner, but as someone who understands the weight of her struggle. The ice between you begins to thaw, and in its place, something new begins to take root. It's not love—not yet, not fully—but it's something undeniably real. Something that connects you, however tenuously, to the woman standing before you.

Ambessa, the Iron Lioness, may never show weakness in the way others do. But in this moment, you understand that her strength lies not in her ability to remain unshaken, but in her willingness to let someone see her vulnerability—even just for a fleeting moment.

—-

The moonlight filters through the thick curtains of your room, casting a soft glow on the walls, but it does little to calm the restless thoughts that churn in your mind. You lie there, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. The stillness of the night is almost suffocating, and the weight of your own emotions presses down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. It's as if the world outside has faded into a distant murmur, leaving only the turmoil inside you.

Everything has changed. Or at least, it feels that way. The marriage you entered into—once a cold, calculated arrangement—has shifted beneath your feet. You didn't expect to find yourself here, caught in the subtle pull of something deeper than politics, deeper than necessity. And yet, here you are, tangled in a web of emotions that you didn't anticipate. Ambessa's presence in your life has evolved from one of mutual respect and obligation into something more complicated, something you're not sure how to name.

You sigh quietly, turning onto your side, your thoughts a maze of confusion and…strangely longing. The woman you married, the indomitable force that led Noxus with such strength, has revealed parts of herself to you that you never imagined. There's more to her than the iron-willed general and the calculating warlord. In the quiet moments, when the weight of her responsibilities isn't so overwhelming, you've caught glimpses of something softer. Something more fragile. And it's those moments that have begun to tether you to her, pulling you closer with a force you can't escape.

The door to the room creaks open, and you stiffen, your heart suddenly racing. The soft sound of footsteps follows, each one deliberate but muffled by the carpet. You don't need to look to know who it is. The air shifts in a way that only Ambessa can make it. Even in her weariness, there's a palpable strength in the way she moves—every step measured, every breath controlled. She's still the embodiment of power, but tonight, there's a quietness to her, an unspoken weight that hangs in the air.

Her figure appears at the edge of the bed, her face tired but softer than usual. There's no sharpness in her gaze, no command in the way she holds herself. Ambessa looks... human. The usual walls she builds around herself, the ones that keep others at arm's length, seem to have faded into the background. The exhaustion you see so often is visible in the curve of her shoulders and the slight droop of her chin, as if the day's battles—both on the battlefield and in the council chambers—have taken more from her than she's willing to admit.

"You still awake?" Her voice is quieter than usual, softer, as though she's uncertain whether she's intruding on your peace.

You turn your head to face her, offering a slight nod Her eyes search yours, as if seeking confirmation that she hasn't disturbed something sacred, something private. She hesitates for a moment, then moves toward the bed, her steps slow and deliberate. Without a word, she sits down beside you, the mattress shifting under her weight. Her presence is immediately overwhelming, even in this quieter state. It's like the room can't contain her—the strength and power that she exudes, even in her most subdued moments.

Ambessa doesn't sit at the far edge of the bed, as she might have in the past. No, she sits close, just a few inches away, her presence almost tangible. Her gaze is fixed forward, her hands resting on her lap, but there's a tension in her posture, a subtle stiffness that betrays the vulnerability she tries so hard to keep hidden, but for some reason let you see. And You can see it now, the weariness she's been carrying all day, it makes something stir inside you—a deep, instinctive desire to ease her burdens, to offer her some form of comfort.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The silence between you is thick, heavy with unspoken words.

And then, without warning, Ambessa reaches out. Her hand moves toward you, and for a brief moment, you wonder if she's about to pull back, if this is just a fleeting gesture, a moment of weakness that she'll regret. But she doesn't pull back. Her fingers brush lightly against your face, moving a strand of hair that has fallen out of place behind your ear. It's a small gesture, simple, almost tender. But the way her fingers linger against your skin—the warmth of her touch, the way it feels as if she's memorizing the shape of your face—sends a shiver down your spine.

You don't move, don't speak. The silence feels like a delicate thread, fragile but strong, weaving between you both. Ambessa doesn't say anything, and you don't expect her to. Words, for once, seem unnecessary. Her touch, so rare, speaks volumes. It's the kind of touch that transcends the cold walls of formality, a touch that bridges the distance between you.

She doesn't pull her hand away immediately. Instead, her fingers stay there for a moment longer, as if giving you a chance to process the weight of the gesture. The air feels charged now, heavy with the unspoken understanding that something is shifting between you both. What it is, exactly, neither of you can define, but it's there. In the way she sits beside you, in the way her hand hovers near yours, in the way her eyes are softer, less guarded.

When she finally withdraws her hand, there's an almost imperceptible sigh that escapes her lips, a sound that carries with it the weight of everything she's been holding in. It's the kind of exhale that tells you more than any words ever could—that, for just a moment, she has let go of the iron-clad control she's built her life around once again. And, in that silence, you realize that this moment, this fleeting tenderness, has made something between you feel more real than anything that's come before.

Ambessa doesn't lie down, doesn't shift away from you, but she stays close. The distance between you is barely noticeable now, and you're both aware of it—aware of how something has changed, how the boundaries between political partners, between two people who were once nothing more than allies, have blurred. The room feels warmer now, less like a place of duty and more like a place where something personal is happening.

You both sit there for what feels like an eternity, the quiet of the night wrapping around you. Ambessa's presence is still as strong as ever, but it no longer feels oppressive. She's not demanding anything of you. She's not expecting anything from you. For once, she's just here, as you are—two people, connected in a way that neither of you understands, but neither of you is willing to let go of.

Eventually, your eyes begin to flutter, the weight of the night finally taking its toll. But before you drift off to sleep, you feel the barest pressure of Ambessa's hand near yours, close enough that you could reach for it, could grasp it if you chose. But you don't. Not yet. Instead, you simply let it linger, the quiet promise of something unspoken hanging in the air.

You fall asleep with the soft hum of her presence beside you, the gentle warmth of her hand a reminder that this—whatever this is—has only just begun. And for the first time in a long while, you feel as if you are not alone. Not in this bed. Not in this life. Not in this strange, complicated journey you're both on.

In the silence of the night, you both remain close, but neither of you reaches for the other just yet. It's enough to be here, together, with the understanding that something is shifting between you, something deeper than either of you is ready to define.

—-

The air in the council chambers is thick with tension, suffocating in its heaviness. The arguments swirl around you, sharp and bitter, as the Noxian ambassadors lay out their demands. The sound of their voices reverberates off the cold stone walls, each one carrying an underlying threat. You've heard it all before—the political maneuvering, the veiled insults, the promises that are nothing more than traps. But today, it feels different. The stakes are higher than ever, and you can feel the weight of the situation pressing down on your shoulders. The eyes of the room are on you and Ambessa, waiting for a response, for a solution.

You glance at her, taking in the sharp lines of her profile as she listens intently to the ambassadors. Her umber skin glows under the flickering torchlight, her posture unyielding, a wall of strength that everyone in the room respects—and fears. Her dark eyes are focused, calculating, every word the ambassadors speak being weighed carefully. But beneath that sharp, unflinching gaze, you see something else today. Something you have noticed before, something you're only just beginning to understand.

There is a quiet vulnerability in her, one that only you seem to recognize. The faint furrow of her brow, the tightening of her jaw—these are signs that she is not unaffected, that the weight of the decisions she has to make is bearing down on her more than she lets on. But she hides it well, too well, for anyone to see except you. Her exterior remains intact, a polished mask of authority and control, but you can feel the strain, the pressure of her role as a leader, and it makes something stir in your chest. She is strong, but she is human too.

As the meeting drags on, your mind starts to wander. It's hard to focus on the specifics of the discussion when the pull of the woman sitting beside you is so strong. You've come to know her better over these last months—seen the strength she exudes, yes, but also the quiet moments of exhaustion, the subtle signs of doubt, the moments when she allows herself to be vulnerable. And in those moments, something shifts between you once again. You're no longer just no longer just two people playing a role in a larger game. You've become something else—something you can't quite name still, but something that feels undeniable.

You're interrupted by the sharp voice of the lead ambassador, pulling your attention back to the present. Ambessa straightens, her shoulders squared, her jaw set in a way that signals the end of the conversation. The meeting is over, the ambassadors leaving with their threats still hanging in the air, though you both know they will return. You can feel the tension, the pressure building in the space between you and Ambessa. But as the last of them files out, something happens. Another change.

Ambessa turns to you, her expression unreadable for a moment. Her dark eyes meet yours, and for the briefest of seconds, there's a flicker of something in her gaze. Something soft, something real. It catches you off guard as it always does, and before you can fully process it, she reaches for your hand.

Her fingers close around yours with a firmness that surprises you. There's no hesitation, no second-guessing. It's just a simple, direct touch, but in that moment, it means more than anything she could say. The gesture is subtle, but it's everything. It's trust. It's a recognition of your partnership, your bond, that goes beyond the politics of this union. It's the kind of trust that doesn't come easily, the kind that's forged through shared struggles, through long nights of planning and working side by side.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The silence between you is thick with meaning. Ambessa doesn't look away, her grip on your hand steady and sure. There's no mask now, no carefully constructed persona. It's just her, the woman who has carried the weight of an empire on her shoulders, the woman who has built something out of nothing, showing you a vulnerability that she doesn't show to anyone else. And you, the one she's chosen to trust, holds her hand in return.

You want to say something, to acknowledge the weight of the moment, but the words don't come. What can you say? What can you do to honor this silent exchange? Instead, you just squeeze her hand, a small but significant gesture of your own, and her lips curl into the faintest of smiles. It's a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, but it's there—a small crack in the armor she's so carefully constructed around herself.

The days that follow are filled with more meetings, more challenges, more moments where you and Ambessa have to rely on each other to navigate the delicate balance of power in both your clans. The trust that was forged growing deeper with each passing day. You find yourself leaning on her more, seeking her counsel, her guidance, and in turn, she begins to rely on you in ways that go beyond the political. It's an another subtle shift, but it's there. The walls that once separated you both—those walls built out of duty and distance—begin to collapse under the weight of shared struggles and quiet moments of intimacy.

There are times when you catch Ambessa in moments of quiet reflection, her sharp gaze softened as she stares out over the city, lost in thought. You've seen her in the heat of battle, commanding armies with the same cool efficiency that she uses in the council chambers. But in these quieter moments, when the weight of her responsibilities is too much to bear, she lets her guard down—just a little. And it's in those moments that you get to see her for who she truly is, not just the ruler, not just the warrior, but the woman who carries the weight of an empire on her shoulders, who has sacrificed so much to protect the legacy of her people.

And you, too, begin to let your guard down. You begin to trust her in ways you never thought possible. She's not just your partner in this union anymore; she's your ally, your confidante. There's a mutual understanding between you both that didn't exist before—a quiet recognition of the bond that's forming, a bond that's no longer just political, but deeply personal.

The day had been long—endless, even—but as the evening settled in, a quiet peace began to take over. The sounds of the city were distant now, muffled by the thick stone walls of the Medarda estate, leaving you in the comforting silence of the kitchen. The rhythmic chopping of vegetables echoed softly in the air as your knife sliced through them, the crisp sound a grounding reminder that for once, the world outside felt far away.

Ambessa stood beside you, her figure commanding even in the casual setting of your kitchen. She wasn't in her usual attire of armor or military garb but instead wore a simple, well-worn shirt and sweatpants. The comfortable, homey clothing contrasted sharply with her usual regality, but it only seemed to emphasize the ease between the two of you now. There were no power struggles here, no games to play—just two people, side by side, sharing a simple moment.

The sizzle of the pot on the stove filled the air as she stirred with careful precision, her concentration evident in the way she moved. She caught your gaze for a second, the corner of her mouth curving upward as she made a sharp comment about the quality of the meat you'd picked out for the meal. You laughed, a genuine chuckle, your shoulders relaxing under the weight of the sound.

"You're the one who picked it out," you teased, shaking your head. "You should know better."

Ambessa rolled her eyes dramatically, giving you an exaggerated look of exasperation. "Do I look like a chef to you?" she quipped, her voice laced with dry humor. "I'm a general, not a butcher."

You chuckled again, the sound so light, so easy, and it felt like a moment that would have been impossible just a year ago. Back then, her humor had been buried under layers of stoic authority, a shield she wore like armor. But now? Now, there was something softer to her—something more human. The laughter that passed between you felt like a bridge, connecting the pieces of your relationship that had once been locked behind walls.

As you finished chopping the last of the vegetables, you glanced up, your eyes meeting hers. For a moment, there was nothing but the warmth of the kitchen around you, and the soft, almost peaceful look on Ambessa's face. She wasn't the intimidating ruler now. She was just... Ambessa. A woman who had learned to find solace in the little things, in the way you had both begun to share your lives, no longer as political allies, but as something more.

There was an intimacy to the moment—something that felt fragile but real. You hadn't expected this when you'd first been thrust into this marriage. At the start, it had been nothing more than a political necessity, an arrangement that held no promise of affection or tenderness. But now, now it was different. There was a bond between you, one that was no longer defined by duty, but by shared experiences and understanding.

Dinner passed with easy conversation, the two of you speaking of everything and nothing. You talked about the empire—its struggles, its future—but also about small things. The mundane, the personal. And somewhere between all the words, you felt it—this quiet shift that had taken place between you two. You weren't just partners in a marriage anymore. You were friends. Allies. And something else, something deeper, was beginning to take root.

You didn't know when it happened, but you realized, in that quiet moment as you looked across the table at her, that you were beginning to feel affectionate towards Ambessa. Not just with her strength or her leadership, though you admired both more than you could express. But affectionate with her. The woman beneath the ruler. The woman who laughed with you in the kitchen. The woman whose eyes softened when she spoke to you. You realized that you loved all of it—the pieces that made her strong and the pieces that made her vulnerable.

And, as the evening drew to a close, you couldn't help but find yourself reflecting on it more. Falling in love with Ambessa wasn't something that had happened overnight. It had been slow, a gradual evolution that you hadn't even realized was happening until it had already taken root deep inside of you. It was all so simple, so profound. It was more than you'd ever expected, and you were certain—she felt it too.

——

The next morning, after a quiet breakfast together, you were walking through the house, passing by the training rooms. The Medarda estate was large, its halls and rooms vast and imposing, but there was a certain comfort in knowing its layout now. You had passed through the training rooms often enough, but today was different. You didn't expect to find her there.

You stopped for a moment when you saw her—Ambessa—moving with the same powerful precision you had grown accustomed to seeing on the battlefield, but there was something more relaxed about her. She wasn't in her usual tactical gear but instead wore a simple black sports bra and sweatpants, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail that showed off the smooth line of her neck. Sweat glistened on her skin, and the muscles in her arms and legs flexed with each movement. She was focused, her body moving with the kind of grace and power that you had only seen in battle, but this was different. This was something else entirely.

You watched, frozen for a moment, as she went through her drills. Her movements were fluid, controlled—each strike, each block, precise and powerful. But it was her body that caught your attention, her strength so evident in the way she carried herself. Her abs were defined, her shoulders broad and strong, and the sight of her muscles flexing under the strain of her movements made your pulse quicken.

And then, it hit you.

Damn. Your wife is kinda..

Your mind went into overdrive, and you couldn't stop yourself from muttering quietly to yourself, "damn."

It was like a punch to the gut—a sudden realization of just how attractive she was. Not just attractive in the way she could command a room or lead an army, but physically. The way her muscles rippled with every movement, they way her breasts bounced when she made a sharp turn or swing, the way she moved with confidence and grace that radiated power... it was alluring.

She paused, catching you in the middle of your stare, and you felt a rush of heat flood your face. Her eyes narrowed just slightly, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips, as if she knew exactly what you were thinking. There was something playful in her expression now, something that wasn't there when she was leading armies or making plans for battle. She was enjoying this, enjoying how flustered you looked.

"You like what you see?" she asked, her voice low and teasing.

You blinked rapidly, trying to pull yourself together, but you couldn't hide the sudden rush of heat in your cheeks. Ambessa's gaze was intense, her eyes lingering on you as if daring you to respond.

Swallowing hard, you managed a laugh. "I... uh, didn't expect to see you like this," you stammered, mentally kicking yourself.

Ambessa's smirk widened. "Maybe I should start training in front of you more often, then."

Your eyes widened, the playful challenge in her tone making your heart race in ways you hadn't expected. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to really appreciate her. The woman who had once been a distant figure, now up close, no longer just the leader of the Medarda house, but someone you were falling for—harder than you had expected.

"Well," you said, clearing your throat, "I wouldn't mind."

Ambessa's smile was teasing, but there was something deeper in her gaze. Something that told you, despite everything that had been said and done, despite the complex web you were caught in, she was feeling the same pull you did.

—-

One night, after another grueling day of meetings, you find yourself in the common room, trying to unwind. You're not really in the mood for company, but as the door creaks open, Ambessa steps in, her figure framed by the doorway. There's something different about her tonight—she's less sharp, less focused. The usual fire that fuels her seems dimmer, and she's quieter than usual. She pauses, looking at you with a faint, almost unreadable expression.

"Still awake?" she asks, her voice softer as it always seemed to be with you.

You nod, offering a faint smile. "I couldn't sleep."

She steps further into the room, her boots making soft sounds against the stone floor. You watch her as she crosses the room, every movement controlled, deliberate. Her face is tired, the lines of stress around her eyes a little deeper than usual, but there's also something tender in her demeanor.

Without saying anything more, she lowers herself beside you on the couch. The space between you is small, but the distance still feels like a chasm. You've grown accustomed to her commanding presence, to her strength, but tonight, there's more vulnerability that you can't deny. She sits in silence for a moment, her gaze fixed ahead, as though she's lost in thought.

You find yourself studying her, the way her shoulders slump ever so slightly, as though the weight of the day is finally too much to bear. Her fingers are tense, restless, as they curl around the edge of her sleeve. It's an unconscious gesture, but it tells you more than words ever could.

After a long pause, she shifts, turning slightly to face you. Her dark eyes meet yours, and there's a flicker of something in them—a softening that you haven't seen in a while.

"You don't have to do this alone, Ambessa," you say, your voice gentle but firm.

She exhales slowly, the weight of the words hanging in the air. "I know," she admits, her voice quiet, almost a whisper. "But I've always done it alone. It's how it's always been."

You move closer, not saying anything, just offering the quiet support that she hasn't asked for, but that she's beginning to accept. And then, as if it's the most natural thing in the world, you reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. It's a simple gesture, but it feels significant.

For a moment, she doesn't react, just stares at you with those dark, unyielding eyes. But then she reaches out, her hand finding yours, and she squeezes it gently. The contact is enough to say everything—trust, need, something deeper that neither of you can fully articulate.

Your thumb brushes across her hand. "You don't have to be perfect, Ambessa. I'm not asking for perfection."

She huffs, the faintest hint of a laugh escaping her. "Perfection? That's never been my thing."

The lightness of her tone makes you smile even more, Ambessa was being... human again. Not a ruler, not a general, but a woman who has carried too much on her own for too long, and who is now slowly learning that she doesn't have to anymore.

As the night drags on, the two of you talk—really talk—about everything and nothing. Politics, of course, but also small, personal things. The food you both like, the rare books you've both read, the things that make you laugh. There are moments of quiet laughter, moments of shared glances, moments where it feels as if you're no longer two people bound by duty, but two people who are beginning to understand each other on a deeper level.

And as the night deepens, and you both grow tired, Ambessa remains beside you, her presence solid and steady, a quiet promise that she is here, and that you, too, are here for her. When she finally stands to leave, she pauses, her hand lingering near yours. You don't hold it, not again, but the moment stretches between you, unspoken and undeniable.

"Goodnight," she says softly, her voice almost a murmur.

"Goodnight," you reply, your heart unexpectedly full.

—-

The day had started out like any other, filled with meetings and reports and the relentless demands of the Medarda estate. But today—today, there was a quiet defiance in you. The walls of the estate felt like they were closing in, and you were done with the suffocating air of politics, the endless games. You were done with the grand halls and ornate rooms. You needed to breathe.

You had mentioned it, half-joking, while walking through the courtyard. "I don't know about you, but I think I'm starting to suffocate in this place. Wouldn't it be nice to get out of here for a bit? Just... go somewhere normal?" You didn't expect anything to come of it, but to your surprise, Ambessa had listened.

The carriage ride into the city had been quiet, the only sound the occasional rumble of the wheels against cobblestone and the soft murmur of the horses. Ambessa had seemed thoughtful, more contemplative than usual. And you? You had felt a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. You hadn't been out in public like this in ages, certainly not since the marriage, and definitely not with Ambessa by your side. The thought of it left a fluttering sensation in your chest.

You were both dressed plainly for the trip, her choice of clothing casual yet still effortlessly commanding, while you kept it simple. No one would look twice at either of you—no layers of jewelry, no towering heels or extravagant dresses. Just two people walking among the crowds.

The market was alive with energy—vendors shouting, the scent of fresh bread, spices, and produce filling the air. People moved in every direction, navigating the bustling pathways between tents and stands, the occasional shrill call of a child's laughter ringing out. It was chaotic, but in a way, it was... freeing. You could almost forget the weight of your roles for a moment.

Ambessa moved with the ease of someone used to commanding space, her tall frame cutting through the crowd. She wasn't rushing, but she was moving at her usual pace, and you found yourself falling behind, struggling to keep up with her longer strides.

You tried to match her pace, your feet tripping over uneven cobblestones, your steps quicker than usual to catch up. The noise of the market buzzed in your ears, people jostling you from all sides. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the tightness in your throat as you worked to not lose sight of her.

You didn't want to make a fuss about it. You could manage. You didn't need to ask her to slow down or grab your arm. It was... silly, really, but you couldn't shake the feeling that this was one of those moments where you could finally be without the constant weight of the political and personal forces that pulled at both of you. So, you kept your pace, and let yourself feel the excitement of simply being here, out in the world.

That's when you felt it—a hand, warm and sure, clasping yours. Ambessa's fingers curled around yours in a way that felt so natural, as if you had always fit together in this unspoken way. Without looking back, she tugged you forward, guiding you through the sea of people with ease, her steady pull helping you keep up with her stride.

You didn't say anything—didn't need to. There was something about her touch that made you feel at ease, as though she had done it without even thinking, just instinctively. She was letting you be part of her world now, not as the ruler of the Medarda estate but as Ambessa—someone who cared about you more than the role she had to play. The thought made your chest tighten in a way you couldn't describe.

You were too lost in the feeling of her hand around yours to notice where she was leading you until you found yourself standing in front of a small stall, the scent of something sweet wafting up to your nose. Your stomach growled softly, and you glanced up, blinking when you saw the cinnamon rolls stacked neatly on display, their golden brown edges glistening with sugar.

You hadn't realized you were staring, but Ambessa had. You caught her gaze, and she smirked, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "You've been eyeing those for a while," she said, her voice laced with a teasing warmth. "I thought you didn't have much of a sweet tooth."

"I don't," you replied without thinking, but the truth was, you hadn't been able to stop looking at them. The smell of cinnamon and sugar had triggered some long-forgotten craving, one you hadn't had since before everything started to change.

Ambessa didn't wait for you to say another word. She let go of your hand for a brief moment, stepping up to the stall and speaking to the vendor, exchanging a few words that you didn't quite catch. Moments later, she was back by your side, a warm cinnamon roll in hand, its edges soft and inviting.

"I think you've earned it," she said, handing it to you with a playful grin. "Go ahead. It's yours."

You stared at it for a moment, your fingers wrapping around the soft paper that held it. Your stomach rumbled again, but there was something about the way she was looking at you, the warmth in her eyes, that made the simple act of accepting the cinnamon roll feel more significant than it should have. It wasn't just the treat in your hands—it was the gesture, the way Ambessa had thought of you in this small, seemingly insignificant moment.

"Thank you," you said quietly, and the words felt heavier than they should have.

"You're welcome," she replied softly.

As you took a small bite, the sweet warmth of the roll filling your mouth, you glanced up at her. Her gaze was soft, not the commanding one she usually wore. Instead, there was a tenderness in her expression that you hadn't expected.

"Is it good?" she asked, her lips curling into a small smile.

You nodded, taking another bite. "It's perfect."

She raised an eyebrow, her teasing nature returning. "Perfect for someone with a sweet tooth."

You laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep within. It felt good, to laugh with her like this. There was no weight to the moment, no politics hanging in the air, just the two of you in the middle of a busy market, eating cinnamon rolls like any other couple.

The quiet intimacy between you was unmistakable now. You realized, as the afternoon wore on and the two of you continued to explore the market together, that it was moments like this—moments of simplicity, of being with her without the expectations, the roles—that were slowly changing the way you felt.

You were falling for her. Not just because of her strength or her position, but because of this—the way she thought about you, the way she cared. It was in the small things. The way she noticed when you needed space, the way she held your hand without a second thought, the way she brought you a cinnamon roll when she saw you eyeing it.

It wasn't grand gestures or declarations, but in its own way, this felt more real than anything else. It was real in the way she was present with you, in the way you had trust in each other.

As you walked alongside her, the cinnamon roll now a sweet memory in your mind, you couldn't help but think that this—this was what you had been searching for. It wasn't just about the power, the politics, or the roles you played. It was about this—a partnership, an understanding, and something far more precious than just a forced marriage. Something real.

—-

The weight of the day presses down on you like the burden of a thousand stones. The council meeting was a disaster, a string of failed negotiations and unresolved conflicts. The frustration churns in your stomach, your body exhausted from the constant push and pull of leadership, compromise, and survival. It's become a rhythm now—the endless struggle to find balance, to find unity in a world that seems determined to pull everything apart.

You were thrust into this marriage by duty, by force, and now, a year and a half later, you're here—still navigating the complexities of this bond, still unsure of what exactly you and Ambessa have become. There's been a shift, you know that much. The power dynamics have morphed, twisted into something neither of you expected. Once, this union was about necessity. Now, it's something else. But what exactly that is remains unclear.

You're in your private quarters, the space familiar yet still a reminder of everything you've had to sacrifice. The bed looms large and empty, the quiet echoing around the lavish room. The tension in the air is thick, palpable, as if the room itself holds its breath, waiting. You try to focus on something—anything—to distract you from the knot in your chest, but there's no denying it. You miss her.

Ambessa.

You think of her the way you always do when you're apart: her broad shoulders, the power that ripples through her every movement, the piercing gaze that makes you feel like she's seen the depths of your soul. The scars on her skin, the roughness of her hands, the way she holds herself—every inch of her radiates strength, resilience, and something darker, something buried beneath layers of pride and duty.

But it's not just her strength that pulls you in. It's the vulnerability that flickers behind those sharp eyes when she lets her guard down, when the weight of leadership, of the world, becomes too much. In those moments, she's something else entirely—raw, conflicted, searching for solace. You've seen that side of her now, and you know it's there, deep inside, even though she does everything she can to keep it hidden.

The door to your quarters opens, and there she is.

Ambessa stands in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the flickering torchlight in the hallway. The contrast between her imposing figure and the soft light that spills into the room makes her seem even larger, more formidable, yet there's something softer in her posture tonight. Her shoulders are not as stiff, not as rigid as usual, and her jaw is unclenched, as though she's trying to shake off the weight of the day. Her hands, always so tightly held in check, are relaxed by her sides, and you notice the tension in her movements, the way she hesitates before stepping into the room.

Her gaze meets yours, and it's softer than it's ever been—no cold command, no dispassion. She's searching, seeking something, and you feel it hit you in your chest like a wave.

"May I?" Her voice is quieter than usual, a rare crack in her usual strength.

You nod, unable to speak, your breath caught in your throat. She crosses the room, her steps deliberate, each one echoing with a sense of finality. Her body fills the space between you, so tall, so commanding, and yet, there's an uncertainty in the way she stands before you.

Ambessa's eyes linger on you for a moment, studying you with an intensity that makes you feel exposed, but it's different this time. There's no hardness in her stare—only something unspoken, something raw, a yearning. It sends a shiver through you, makes your pulse race in your veins.

She's no longer the woman who commanded armies, who made difficult decisions without hesitation. Tonight, she's just... Ambessa. She's the woman who has lived with you, who has shared moments of vulnerability and tenderness, even if neither of you ever said the words.

"I need you," she finally says, her voice low and tight. There's an edge to it now, a sense of urgency, as if she's fought with herself for too long to keep the walls up. "Not because of duty. Not because of politics. Just... you."

The words hang between you like a spark in dry brush, a flame ready to ignite.

You swallow thickly, your heart hammering in your chest. Something in her voice makes it impossible to think straight, to hold onto the carefully constructed walls of detachment you'd built around yourself. She's cracked them wide open with just a few words, and suddenly, everything shifts.

You rise to your feet slowly, drawn to her in a way you can't resist. She doesn't step back as you approach, standing her ground, the muscles in her shoulders still tense, but there's something in her gaze—a flicker of trust—that makes you hesitate just before closing the distance between you.

Her hand reaches out, almost tentatively, as though she's testing the waters, unsure if she can truly take this step. You take her hand, your fingers brushing against the rough skin of her palm. Her touch is warm, strong, but it's different now. There's gentleness in it, a softness that she rarely allows. You draw her closer, your heart racing as her body presses against yours, the heat of her skin burning through the layers between you.

For a moment, you stand like that, just breathing, as if the world has stopped turning. You can feel the subtle tremble in her form, the way her breath quickens with the weight of everything unsaid.

Then, she tilts her head slightly, just enough for her lips to hover near your ear. Her breath is warm, soft, and it makes your skin tingle. "I've been holding this in," she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion. "I don't know what this is, what we are anymore, but I can't keep pretending it's nothing."

The words hit you like a physical blow. This is it. This is the moment everything changes. No more distance, no more hesitation. You turn your face toward her, searching her eyes—those dark, deep eyes that have seen so much and yet, in this moment, seem vulnerable in a way you've never seen before.

Without thinking, without hesitation, you lean in.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if you're both testing the waters, feeling each other out. It's not forceful, not rushed. It's gentle, careful, but it's electric. The touch of her lips against yours is a spark, the beginning of something that's been simmering beneath the surface for months, something you've both been afraid to acknowledge.

Ambessa's hands move, gripping your shoulders tightly, her touch grounding and insistent, as though she's afraid of letting go. You feel the heat of her body seeping into yours, the undeniable pull that draws you closer. The kiss deepens, slow and intentional, and the world outside this room disappears entirely.

Her body presses against yours, solid and warm, and you feel every inch of her—the strength in her arms, the power in her chest, the vulnerability in the way she allows herself to melt into you. Her scent is intoxicating, a mix of earth and leather, and you breathe her in as if you can't get enough of her.

You feel her heartbeat thud against your chest, rapid, urgent. It matches the quickening rhythm of your own. She pulls back for a moment, just enough to look at you, and her eyes are dark with desire, but there's something else there, too. Something deeper.

"This isn't just about the alliance, is it?" she asks, her voice thick with emotion.

You shake your head, barely able to speak as the words lodge in your throat. "No. It's not. It's... more."

A tremor runs through her, and you feel the shift in her entirely. The walls she's so carefully built over the years seem to crack and crumble, and you know, without a doubt, that this—you and her—is no longer a political game. It's something raw, something real, something forged in fire. The same fire that's burned in both of you, changing you in ways you can't even begin to describe.

Ambessa pulls you in again, her lips meeting yours with more urgency this time. It's not soft anymore. It's fiery, hungry, desperate, as if this moment is the culmination of everything you've both been holding back for so long.

Her hands are in your hair, pulling you closer, and you feel the heat of her skin, the strength of her frame, as she presses into you. The kiss deepens, the world outside this room irrelevant, as if nothing else matters but the two of you and the fire that has ignited between you.

Ambessa pulled back slightly, her breath warm against your lips. "I've spent my life building a legacy," she murmured, her voice low and husky. "A name that will endure long after I'm gone. And you... you were meant to be a pawn in that game. A means to an end. But now..."

She trailed off, her fingers slipping down to the hem of your shirt. She tugged it up, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. Her hands were on your skin then, her touch firm but gentle, exploring the curves of your body with a curious intensity. "Now," she continued, her voice a low soft mumble, "I find myself wanting... more." Her hand presses against your chest, forcing you gently down on the bed in one swift move.

Her hands slid down to your waist, her fingers working the clasp of your pants. You felt a flush of heat spread through you as she tugged them down with your panties, leaving you exposed, vulnerable before her. She knelt before you, her hands sliding up your thighs, her breath warm against your skin.

"Do you trust me?" she asked, her eyes locked onto yours.

You nodded, your voice catching in your throat. "Yes," you managed to whisper.

Her lips curved into a faint smile, and she leaned in, her mouth pressing against the soft, delicate skin of your inner thigh. You shivered, your hands gripping the bed as her teeth grazed your skin, her tongue flicking against it. Slowly, she moved higher, her breath hot against your cunt, her lips brushing against your folds.

You gasped, your hips bucking as her tongue slid between your folds, exploring you with a slow, deliberate intensity. She groaned against you, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through you. Her hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as she devoured you, her tongue flicking against your clit, her lips sucking and nibbling at your sensitive flesh.

You moaned, your head falling back against the pillows as she worked you, her tongue moving with a skill that left you breathless. Your hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, your hips rocking against her face as the pleasure built, coiling deep within you.

"Ambessa," you gasped, her name a prayer on your lips.

She pulled back slightly, her breath hot against your slick folds. "Do you want me to stop?" she asked, her voice a low murmur.

"No," you moaned, your hips bucking against her face. "Please... don't stop."

She chuckled, a low, husky sound that sent a shiver down your spine, and then she was on you again, her tongue diving into you, her lips sucking and nibbling at your clit. The pleasure built, a tidal wave that crashed over you, leaving you trembling and moaning, your body writhing beneath her.

You came with a cry, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling. Ambessa knelt before you, a satisfied smirk on her lips as she licked them clean, her dark eyes gleaming with a fierce yet gentle hunger.

she murmured, her voice low and husky. "I won't let anyone take you from me."

She raised from the bed, unclasping her pants slowly, her golden eyes never leaving yours that was far more sensual than it should've been. She gets her underwear off and for the first time since the forced marriage you see your wife naked from the waist down. How her bare hips dips slightly, how she had a neat trimmed bush at the top of her mound.

She climbed onto the bed, straddling you, her hands sliding up your body, exploring every inch of you. Her lips pressed against yours in a fierce, possessive kiss, her tongue sliding into your mouth, claiming you completely.

"Do you understand?" she asked, her voice a low growl against your lips. "You're mine."

You nodded, your hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer. "Yes," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire and longing. "I'm yours."

She smirked, her hands sliding down to her own shirt, pulling it over her head and tossing it aside. She was left in her bra, the fabric straining against her muscular frame. Her hands moved to the clasp, unhooking it and letting it fall away, leaving her bare before you.

Her breasts were full and firm, her brown nipples hard and erect. You reached out, your hands trembling as you cupped them, your thumbs brushing against her nipples. She groaned, her hips grinding against yours, her clit pressing against your cunt.

"You're mine," she repeated, her voice a low promise as she rocked against you, her slick folds rubbing against yours. "And I'm going to make sure you know that."

Her hips moved in a slow, deliberate rhythm, her clit sliding against yours. Your hands fell from her breasts to tangle into the sheets, a soft moan falls from your lips that is quickly shut up by ambessa's mouth.

She broke the kiss, her hands sliding down to cup your breasts. Her thumbs brushed against your nipples, the sensation making you whimper. "You're mine," she repeated, her voice a low growl as she rocked against you, her slick womanhood rocking and rolling against yours, mixing your arousal with hers.

Your hips moved in sync with hers, the friction between your bodies sending waves of pleasure through you. You could feel the wetness between you, the sound of your bodies moving together filling the room. Ambessa's forehead rested against yours, her breath mingling with yours as she continued to move, her hips grinding against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

"I hate that I married you out of political necessity," she said again, her voice softer this time. Her hips kept moving, her clit pressing against yours in a way that made it hard to focus on her words. "But that's not what this is anymore. You're more than a pawn to me now. You’re my wife.”

Her words sent a surge of emotion through you, your heart pounding in your chest. You reached up, your hands cupping her face as you gazed into her eyes.

She kissed you again, her lips soft and tender against yours. Her hips moved faster now, the pressure against your clit intensifying with each thrust of her hips. You moaned into the kiss, your fingers digging into her shoulders as you felt the tension in your body building.

You were so close again, the pleasure threatening to overwhelm you. Ambessa's hips moved harder, her clit grinding against yours in a way that made you cry out. She broke the kiss, her forehead resting against yours as she panted, her body moving with yours as you both chased your release.

"Let go," she whispered, her voice a low growl. "Let me feel you come."

Her words were all it took to push you over the edge. Your back arched, your body trembling as the pleasure washed over you. You cried out, your hips moving frantically against hers as you came, the sensation almost too much to bear.

Ambessa kept moving, her hips grinding against yours as she chased her own release. You could feel her clit throbbing against yours, the friction between you sending waves of pleasure through you. She moaned, her body tensing as she came, her hips still moving against yours as she rode out her orgasm.

She collapsed against you, her body trembling as she held you close. Her breath was warm against your skin, her heartbeat a steady rhythm against your chest. You wrapped your arms around her, holding her close as you both caught your breath.

The room was quiet, the air thick with the warmth of shared intimacy. There was a soft hum from the air circulating through the room, but otherwise, the silence felt heavy, yet comforting. Your body was still pressed against Ambessa's, your chest rising and falling with each steady breath, her skin warm against yours. The two of you lay tangled in the sheets, the weight of the world outside the door forgotten for a moment, as if time had slowed down to let you both savor this fragile stillness.

You could feel the slight thrum of her heartbeat against your own, the rhythm of it soothing, grounding. Her arm was draped over your back, her fingers brushing gently against your skin in absent-minded, slow circles. It was a contrast to the intensity of the moments before, a tenderness that spoke louder than words. Her touch was soft, almost reverent, as if she, too, was taking a moment to fully process what had just passed between you.

You nuzzled into her shoulder, pressing a light kiss against her skin, your lips barely brushing the curve of her shoulder. She hummed in response, a low, satisfied sound that vibrated through her chest and sent a comforting shiver through your body.

"You're okay?" You asked, your voice barely more than a whisper, as if speaking louder would shatter the fragile peace that enveloped you both.

Ambessa shifted slightly, her hand moving to rest gently on the back of your head, her fingers weaving through your hair in a slow, soothing rhythm. "I'm more than okay," she murmured, her voice low and raspy, still touched by the heat of your shared moment.

Her words settled into you, an anchor in the quiet. She sounded content, maybe even a little vulnerable—something you were getting used to hearing from her, something that made your chest tighten in a way that felt comforting.

You sighed, letting yourself melt further into her embrace, feeling the softness of her skin beneath your fingers as you traced lazy patterns along her arm, mapping out the lines and ridges of her muscles that were usually so defined with strength. But tonight, those muscles were relaxed, the tension of her usual hard exterior gone, and she felt more human, more tangible in a way that you loved.

Ambessa's fingers continued to run gently through your hair, the quiet intimacy of the moment filling the space between you. It felt right—this closeness, this calm after the storm. There was no hurry, no urgency. Just the steady pulse of her heartbeat, the rise and fall of her chest beneath you. You had learned in moments like these that this was the part of her you cherished most—the unspoken connection, the gentleness that only emerged after everything else had been shared.

"Thank you," you murmured, your lips against her skin once again, your words almost lost in the softness of the moment. "For everything."

Ambessa didn't say anything at first. She just held you closer, as if pulling you in even tighter, her arms a quiet reassurance. Then, after a long pause, she spoke, her voice as steady as ever, though there was a softness to it that you rarely heard.

"You don't need to thank me," she said, her thumb lightly brushing the side of your face. "You've never needed to."

There was something in the way she said it, a sense of permanence to her words that sent warmth flooding through you. Ambessa, the woman who had once kept herself so locked away, was showing you parts of herself that she never allowed anyone else to see. It felt both sacred and fragile, like you were sharing something that went far beyond mere companionship.

You pulled back just slightly, enough to look up at her face. Her eyes met yours, dark and intense, but there was a softness in them now that hadn't been there before. The usual walls were lowered, and in their place was something far more raw, more real. Her lips were slightly parted, her breathing steady and slow, but you could see the traces of emotion in her gaze—the unspoken feelings that lay beneath her usual stoic exterior.

Her fingers gently traced the line of your jaw, her touch almost like a caress, as if she were memorizing the feel of you against her.

"Do you feel okay?" she asked, her voice full of concern, a note of vulnerability seeping through, it made your heart flutter.

You smiled softly, a genuine warmth spreading through you as you met her gaze. "I feel perfect," you whispered, pressing a kiss to the palm of her hand as it lingered on your skin. "I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."

Ambessa's lips twitched into a faint smile, but it was different this time. It wasn't the hard smile of a leader, of someone who had to show strength to the world; it was a real, honest smile, a quiet one that spoke volumes. It made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered in that moment.

The two of you lay there for a while longer, tangled in sheets and each other's embrace, letting the quiet moments speak for themselves. There was no rush. No expectation. Just the quiet comfort of being with someone who, despite all the battles, all the struggles, had become something far more than you ever imagined.

And as you drifted off to sleep, her warmth still enveloping you, you realized that, despite everything that had come before, there was nothing more you needed than this—Ambessa, here with you, sharing in this rare, fragile moment of peace. And somehow, in the midst of everything, it felt like it was enough.

—-

The moon hung low in the sky as you sat by the window of the Medarda estate, staring out at the sprawling city of Noxus. Its jagged architecture and war-hardened people, once so foreign and intimidating, now felt strangely familiar. The streets below bustled even in the dead of night, yet all you could hear was the faint crackle of the fire behind you and the soft, rhythmic breaths of Ambessa as she sat in her chair across the room.

The silence between you was companionable now, not the suffocating chasm it had been when you first arrived. Back then, every second in her presence had felt like a punishment. Back then she was everything you feared about this alliance—a looming figure who represented your loss of freedom, a woman who seemed too hardened to care about anything beyond strategy and conquest. You had hated her with a ferocity you hadn’t known you were capable of.

But that hatred had softened over time. It hadn’t happened all at once—it was a slow, reluctant process. It began with the glimpses you caught of her when no one else was looking. The way she stood by the window late at night, her shoulders heavy with a weight she rarely let others see. The small, almost imperceptible sighs she let slip when she thought no one was listening. And then there were her words—few and far between, but meaningful. She didn’t speak often, but when she did, it was with purpose, and there was always something in her tone that hinted at the depth she kept buried beneath her stoic exterior.

The turning point had been the argument. That night when you had finally broken, when the weight of your forced marriage and your duty to your people had become too much to bear. You had screamed at her, vented every ounce of frustration and anger you had bottled up since the day you arrived in Noxus. And instead of meeting your fire with her own, Ambessa had listened. She had understood. And for the first time, you saw her not as the enemy, not as the conqueror who had taken everything from you, but as someone who was just as trapped as you were.

Ambessa began to let you see her vulnerability, not just in fleeting moments but in ways that felt deliberate.

You began to notice the way her eyes softened when she looked at you, the way her voice grew gentler when she spoke your name. You started to see the care in her actions, the quiet way she made space for you in her life without demanding anything in return.

The first time you realized you loved her, it had startled you. It was during one of those rare quiet moments. The realization hit you like a wave, sudden and undeniable: you didn’t just care for her. You loved her.

It wasn’t the kind of love you had ever imagined for yourself. It was messy, complicated, and born out of circumstances you wouldn’t wish on anyone. But it was real. It was deep. And it was yours.

The marriage that had once felt like a prison now felt like a partnership. You weren’t just playing roles anymore. You weren’t just fulfilling a duty. You were building something real, something meaningful, something that belonged to both of you.

Tonight, as you sat by the window, watching the city you had come to call home, you thought about how far you had come. The woman you had once hated now sat across the room, her presence a source of comfort rather than conflict. Ambessa glanced up from her work and caught your gaze, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, her voice low and steady.

You hesitated for a moment, then decided to tell her the truth. “You,” you said softly. “Us.”

Her expression shifted, her dark eyes searching yours. “Good things, I hope.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with a warmth that still felt new, even after all this time. “The best things.”

She set down the papers she had been reading and rose from her chair, crossing the room to stand beside you. Her hand found yours, her touch grounding you in a way nothing else could.

“I never thought this would happen,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I never thought we’d get here.”

“Neither did I,” she said, her tone soft but honest. “But I’m glad we did.”

You looked up at her, the firelight casting shadows across her strong features. In her eyes, you saw everything—the strength that had once intimidated you, the vulnerability she had let you see, the love that now bound you together.

For the first time, you didn’t feel like you were in a forced marriage. You felt like you were home.

Ambessa leaned down, her forehead resting against yours. It was a simple gesture, but it carried the weight of everything you had been through together. Everything you had fought for. Everything you had built.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Her hand tightened around yours, her voice steady and sure as she replied, “And I love you.”

The words were a promise, a commitment, a declaration of something that no longer felt forced or contrived. It was real. It was yours. And it was enough.

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