Skylar's POV
The chamber was dim, lit only by flickers from the fireplace and the soft hum of monitors displaying the empire's pulse—territory reports, agency logs, currency movements… control in digital form.
And in the center of it all, seated in his black throne-like chair, was Chris.
He didn't look up right away. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the armrest, like he was deciding which version of himself to become—the ruler or the man I once knew.
"You came back," he finally said.
I took a slow step forward. "You called me your wife in front of your commander. The least I could do was respond."
He smirked without warmth. "It wasn't a declaration. It was a warning."
There it was—the new Chris. All edges. All power. No softness.
But I knew better. I always had.
I walked closer, stopping just at the edge of the sunken steps that led to his seat. "What do you see when you look at me now?"
He finally looked up.
His eyes held storms. Exhaustion, anger, something darker. But behind them… pain. The kind that comes from trust broken by history and pride.
"I see a ghost," he said. "One that forgot who built her crown."
I exhaled sharply, fighting the sting of his words. "And I see a king who forgets what he once stood for."
Silence.
For a moment, the fire was the only sound.
"I never stopped standing for the empire," he said coldly. "Even when it crushed me. Even when you left."
"I didn't leave you," I said, my voice rising. "I left what you were becoming. There's a difference."
"You think I had a choice?" he barked, standing now, towering over the steps like a god atop judgment. "They pushed. They threatened. I did what I had to do to survive—to win."
"I know," I said gently. "And that's what scares me. You think you're still surviving, but now you're just conquering for the sake of control."
He stared at me, unblinking. "So what now? You came to save me?"
"No," I said. "I came because I'm tired of fighting you."
A pause.
Chris stepped down slowly, his boots echoing against the marble floor.
We were face to face now.
"You hurt me," he whispered. "You chose them."
I swallowed. "And you've hurt me too. More than you'll ever admit. But you're still the father of my son. You're still the man who once looked at the stars with me and believed we could change the world without breaking it."
His voice dropped. "And if I asked you to stand by me again?"
I didn't answer immediately. My heart throbbed painfully in my chest.
"Then I would," I said finally. "But not as a pawn. And not if it means becoming blind to the people again. I'll stand beside you… not beneath you."
Another pause. One that felt like the whole empire held its breath.
Chris slowly reached for my hand—but didn't take it. He hovered there.
Still unsure.
Still broken.
But maybe… still reachable.
And in that moment, I knew the war wasn't over.
But maybe the two at the center of it had just remembered what they were fighting for.