Guard's POV (Outside the Emperor's Chamber)
We were trained not to flinch. Not to move. Not to react to anything. But tonight? Tonight was... different.
I stood at the Emperor's door — tall, uniform pristine, eyes forward, heart trained to be still.
But no training could've prepared me for what echoed beyond that massive, gold-engraved door.
Soft at first.
Laughter. A woman's.
Then silence — then the kind of silence that carries weight. Not the emptiness of a room, but the heavy stillness between people who mean everything to each other.
And then… sounds. Rhythmic, human, primal.
Her voice — Lady Amara's — low, breathless gasps. Intimate murmurs, words I could only pretend I didn't hear. His voice followed — the Emperor himself — deep, barely audible, like thunder rolling across a midnight sky.
My grip tightened on the rifle strapped to my chest. Not from discomfort, but from the reality of it all.
He had chosen her.
Of all the generals, strategists, council members… it was Lady Amara he married. And behind that door, they weren't strategizing. They weren't making war plans.
They were becoming one.
Another muffled sound — her soft cry. Not pain. Something deeper.
I swallowed hard, pretending to remain unaffected.
Some guards cast each other glances — the ones stationed a few steps away. A smirk here, a raised brow there. But none dared say a word. Not tonight. Not with that man behind the door. Not with her.
The moans were now unmistakable. Long, drawn-out, tangled in each other like a song made of confessions and flesh.
And then… it stopped.
A beat of silence. Then rustling — maybe a whisper. A laugh. A kiss, perhaps.
I straightened my back.
Because even in the most vulnerable moments of their lives, our duty remained.
To stand.
To protect.
To hear nothing.
And remember everything.
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