Ahh I'm on a role! My goal was to catch up to the amount of chappies i had missed when I was on my month long hiatus. I think we've hit the mark with this one and am now officially up to date yay!
Some comments being addressed:
Raella - I've had so many people ask about Amore, unfortunately, as much as I'd love to involve all the pixies, I'm just not sure what to do with her. Digit is already copping the brunt of it being in the palace surrounded by morally grey characters; I'm just not sure how the pixie of LOVE is going to fair in this situation HAHAH
Skylar - I know exactly what you mean about the dress HAHAH you're not gonna believe this, but it is possible to add something like that despite the tone of the story HAHA it will be sinister asf but its possible lmfao. I have so many random ideas for this story and different scenarios that completely change the direction of the whole story but I gotta pick the best route each time to keep the slow burn but I LOVE THE DRESS IDEa and maybe if i can't make it fit, I'll def have to write a bonus chappie hehehe.
Yuilia - Yes! I am so keen to explore everyone of the High Commander Platoon, it makes for better depth as to why they are loyal to Brandon despite everything. OMG I'm also SUPER keen to explore the other side characters especially Sky. You'll have to wait to hear about Helia unfortunately hehe. I'm so glad you have questions ahhh i'm so keen to write!
I really want to explore the dark side of the war soooooo bad it might be emotionally draining for a lot of readers. Whenever i write, i detach myself from the story and kind of write like an emotionless slate but then I get my editor to reread it and he's like wtf why is this so dark? so I have to cut out a few bits and pieces to make it somewhat PG lol.
I listened to two songs for this one:
Hollow Crown - Game of Thrones OST and After Hours - The Weeknd
You'll know exactly when the tone changes ;)
The former princess of Solaria lay under her covers, after refusing breakfast and lunch from the concerned pixie, she had herself draped in the white duvet as she stared blankly at the ceiling. Last night had been the most gut-wrenching experience she had ever faced.
Since the night her father was brutally murdered and the walls of the great hall ran red, she promised herself she would do anything to not let herself feel that pain ever again. She spent the last 4 years incurring hit after hit, bruise after bruise trying to make sure she never felt that helpless ever again.
But last night. Stella squeezed her eyes shut, pushing away the devastated look on Flora's face as she accepted death, a death delivered by a man that Stella used to be hopelessly in love with.
Her fingers twitched, the aching need to break something making her body tingle. She despised Brandon for having her room enchanted; she knew he had the balcony enchanted so she wouldn't attempt suicide, but as far as to keep her from getting the release she needed was just cruel.
Stella cast her gaze to her balcony window. She could see the second sun setting, the third sun following close behind to indicate the looming solstice not far along. Maybe she could sleep it off.
However every time she closed her eyes, all she could think was the way Brandon's sword came slicing down at Flora's neck.
A soft knock sounded at the door, and Stella turned over, yanking the covers up over her head to avoid the sad pout on Digit's face, no doubt asking her to have afternoon tea at least. "I'm not in the mood to eat Digit, sorry," She murmured dejectedly, hoping the pixie would leave.
"How long do you intend to keep up this tantrum, princess?" A cold tone asked from the door and Stella's whole body tensed at his voice as she gritted her teeth and sat up.
"Get out." She hissed, the anger thick in her eyes as she glared at Brandon Silver standing nonchalantly at her doorway, "I don't want to see your face!"
He had traded his uniform for something a bit more casual, a tight-fitted black shirt that hugged his figure under a brown button-up coat that remained open. He was wearing his usual combat boots under a pair of black pants with a matching brown belt. It was a stark comparison to the monster dressed in ominous black she was yesterday who almost murdered her friend.
He let out a mocking scoff, "No, I did not think so," He muttered, adjusting himself to lean on her doorframe as if her aggression was beneath him, "But I've told you before Princess, my orders are to keep you alive till the sceptre is extracted. Which means – you eat." He added in a stern tone.
She glared at him, "I'll eat if you lift the enchantment in the room," Her body was quite literally itching for some release, she was willing to barter with him.
"The enchantment is a result of the curse mark," He shot back cooly, "I can't lift it. But-" He paused, taking in the curious look on her face despite the sneer, "There's another way you can get the release you need,"
He pushed himself off the doorframe, referring to the hallway, "Let's go,"
She glared at him again. The last time she went with him somewhere she was forced to watch her friends come close to getting murdered by his hand. Sensing her hesitance, he sighed, "We aren't leaving the palace grounds," He assured her.
Reluctantly she followed, it couldn't get any worse for her at this point and she felt like a caged animal right about now so she was willing to listen to whatever means of release he was talking about.
Once the back of the Solarian castle grounds came into view, the former princess's gaze shifted from suspicion to confusion.
"Why are we here?" She questioned confusedly, staring at the old training arena that the Solarian knights used to train in every morning. Before Tecna converted part of her lab into the virtual training arena for the high commander's platoon, this was routine for those in training under the old king's rule.
Stella's heart clenched at the thought of those men who used to train here, some remained loyal to the old king and were faced with execution while others in fear for their lives and families swore to the Drakari.
It wasn't often that the young princess would get to visit this part of the castle grounds. She had complete freedom to explore her home and her kingdom when she was young, taking regular trips to the town to greet the people. But after the assassination attempt, the king limited the people the crowned princess came into contact with, banning her from the outside world.
So when she grew out of her round, thick-rimmed glasses, unruly hair and a crooked smile by her 16th birthday – only officials and those permitted to server her knew what the princess looked like.
The former princess's gaze flickered around at the targets that lined the perimeter of the arena, wooden with a red circle painted in the middle. Confusion knitting her eyebrows in the middle as she turned back to the man standing behind her.
Her confusion was further amplified when she realised his hand was outstretched, gesturing for her to take the weapon he had offered her, "What's this?" she asked suspiciously, staring at the sleek black firearm sitting in Brandon's palm.
"A gun," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone, "Normal weapons in this realm don't power because of your curse mark,"
She frowned, watching him take the weapon and pull back the safety with a click that made her stomach tighten with a slight excitement, "This one doesn't require magic. It's from Earth,"
"You've been to earth?!" She exclaimed a hint of awe in her tone like the ecstatic teenager she used to be. Brandon smirked, handing the gun back to the former princess with the handle end facing her.
"On occasion," He replied in a tone neither cold nor offhanded like it usually was, "The Drakari are not interested in the magicless realms,"
She remained silent, turning the firearm side to side to view its meticulous structure. A weapon that didn't require magic was unheard of in this realm.
"Face the barrel at the target and press the trigger," He told her, pointing at the targets that were lined up. Eagerly, she turned, gripping the handle with both hands as her finger wrapped around the trigger. She didn't need to be told twice to take a shot,
"Watch the recoil," he murmured a fraction of a second before she pressed the trigger.
The first shot rang out with a deafening crack, and the force of the recoil nearly sent her stumbling. The bullet ricocheted off the stone wall, missing the target entirely. Stella's mouth hung wide, almost flabbergasted that earth weapons had such a might but a ridiculous repercussion. Magix weapons don't deliver this much recoil, if any, due to the magic absorbing all its energy.
She whipped her head back at Brandon, glaring. "You could have warned me about that!"
"I did, you weren't listening," Brandon shot back in an amused tone, his lips curling into a smirk.
Gathering herself with another sneer, she pointed the gun again, aiming it at the centre of the red target. Magix weapons were also not this unsteady; they worked cohesively with the user, and their precision and power were that of their wielder.
If the wielder had good control of their magical energy, the gun fired with almost perfect accuracy.
But earth guns were a power that the user didn't have. It was there to overcome where the human body could not.
The gun rattled in Stella's grip, her uncertainty obvious in the way she kept adjusting her grip. She was not a long-distance fighter, she and Noah were both close combatants and her aim was just as janky as his was with the whips. Her body stiffened, itching to see the bullet shoot through the wooden target to give her the release she needed by breaking things.
Closing her eyes, she pressed down on the trigger again, the loud bang making her ears pop as the recoil made her arms jerk back again and the bullet went flying astray.
Her body ran hot with irritation at the thought of her consistent misses. Letting out an annoyed huff she clutched the gun in both hands, taking a steady stance.
She was so focused on her aim that she didn't hear Brandon's boots echo closer to her. She didn't realise how close he was until his fingertips brushed over hers, and she startled from surprise, shifting her hand to glare at him, "What are you-"
"Your aim is off," he murmured, his voice lower now, quieter. Stella's heart pounded in her ears, willing herself not to react to the heat radiating from his proximity.
"Don't touch me," she snapped, her voice sharper than intended. She tried to pull away, but his grip was firm—not forceful, but steady.
"Stop fighting me and focus," he said, his tone even but laced with authority. He guided her hands back into position, stepping closer until his chest was brushing against her back.
His touch felt like electric, a jolt of something she couldn't suppress. Her breath hitched, and for a fleeting moment, she felt like she was a teenager again, blushing under the weight of his gaze, hanging on every word he spoke. Her body reacted traitorously to his presence, despite all of the despicable things he had said and done.
Her heart wouldn't stop hammering.
"Close one eye and steady the front and back sights of the gun,"
Stella's blood raced, and she cursed herself for how easily his presence could unnerve her. He smelt like pine, a familiar smell that was driving her mad. She gritted her teeth, trying to channel her anger into focus.
"Focus on the gun, princess, not the target," Brandon murmured, his breath ghosting against her ear.
Her hands shook, though she told herself it was from frustration, not the proximity of the man she once loved. He stood behind her like a shadow, calm and detached.
"Take the shot," He muttered, his face beside her merely inches apart. She exhaled sharply, forcing herself to comply. Her finger tightened around the trigger, and this time, the shot rang true, and the bullet hit the target with perfect accuracy.
The force of the blast made the wood shatter on impact into jagged edges that scattered the arena's stone floor.
Stella lowered the gun, her heart still pounding. She refused to meet his gaze, afraid of what he might see in her eyes—or worse, what she might see in his.
"Well done," he said simply, stepping back, the warmth of his presence fading like a fleeting ember.
Stella's chest rose and fell as she kept her gaze fixed on the shattered remains of the target. Her pulse thrummed, not just from the recoil of the gun but from the raw satisfaction that coiled in her stomach. The splintered wood, the sharp crack that echoed in the air, and the sheer force behind the shot stirred something within her—something different, exhilarating. It made her skin crawl with excitement.
A soft laugh escaped her lips at the charge that ran through her veins. It wasn't joy, not exactly, but a release, a crack in the wall of despair she had built around herself.
She turned to him, forgetting he was the reason she even needed a break to begin with. Finally, a release. Her eyes were wide with incredulity as she met his gaze.
It's been a while since she felt that rush.
Brandon's lips twitched, barely perceptible, but there was no mistaking the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He stepped further back and crossed his arms over his broad chest expectantly, giving her space to move.
"Keep going," he said, his voice quiet yet insistent, like an unspoken challenge.
It was maddening how he could still have this effect on her, how even the faintest hint of encouragement from him could stoke a fire she thought had long since been extinguished. Stella's fingers tightened around the grip of the gun as she turned back to the targets, her heart hammering louder than the distant echoes of her shot.
Without waiting for further instruction, she raised the gun again with the same feel, the thrill of the moment pushing aside the lingering bitterness. She wanted more—the rush, the power, and, perhaps, just a trace of the satisfaction she saw flicker in Brandon's unreadable eyes.
The next two shots were fired at two consecutive targets, a bit off the red bullseye mark but still making the wood shatter on impact, heightening the thrill that coursed Stella's body. She spun, taking aim with unrestrained excitement, firing two more shots into the same target until it was reduced to jagged fragments.
A laugh escaped her lips, light and breathless, tinged with a raw, reckless energy she hadn't felt in weeks. The gun recoiled less in her hands now; she had adjusted to its power. With wild determination, she fired at the next four targets in rapid succession.
She watched in satisfaction as wooden shrapnel erupted into the air, raining down against the back wall of the arena.
When the last target fell, she stood there, chest heaving, skin buzzing with excitement as the echoes of the gunfire faded. Her grip on the gun remained firm even as her arms dropped to her sides. Her hazel eyes, gleaming with exhilaration, turned to Brandon, whose expression was maddeningly neutral.
"Feel better?" He asked, referring to the thrilled smile on her face.
She panted, registering his words before reality struck her like a brick. Her expression faltered and her heart twisted as she realized where she was—and who she was with.
The man who killed her father, the man who had a hand in Noah's death, and the man who almost murdered Flora yesterday.
She forced herself to steady her breath, though the thrill still hummed in her blood. "Why did you bring me here?"
"You wanted a release," He replied simply, his calm strides in contrast to her frantic energy, "So I gave it to you," His boots echoed closer, and Stella's heart hammered, replaying when his touch encased her hands when aiming the gun. The feeling of him pressed against her back.
The body keeps betraying her, remembering the excitement beneath the venom she had in her heart for him when he got close to her like that before. He keeps being able to manipulate her, break her and put her back together again to do it all over again.
It was torture. He was torture and she hated him.
She hated him. Him. Him! It was always him!
Her gaze flicked to the firearm in her grip, its weight grounding her for a fleeting moment. A weapon that worked without magic. A weapon that could change everything.
A misstep in his calculations, it seemed, by giving it to her.
Before she could think, she raised the gun, its barrel aimed squarely at him.
Brandon stopped in his tracks, the frown etching across his face when he realised what she was doing. The calm look in his gaze turned cold, a dark void materialising like a blade being pulled from its sheath.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, princess," he said, his voice low and cutting, devoid of fear.
Stella let out a sort of hollow chuckle, desperation and crazed thrill fresh in her tone, "Why? Because I'd be killing myself?" She sneered, "I don't care. I don't care anymore! I hate this!"
He didn't respond, only continued to watch her balance the gun sights, a perfect shot at point blank at his chest. His indifference was infuriating, almost daring her to pull the trigger. Funny how he taught her how to aim just for the gun to be pointed back at him moments later.
Poetic almost.
Only one problem remained, Stella's hands couldn't stop trembling, throwing her aim off from the distance he was at. Her nerves were betraying her as much as her body was.
His eyes cast down slowly, registering the hesitance in her shaky grip. One she tried so hard to conceal. He sighed, shoulders dropping before he took a calm step towards her.
"Stay back!" She spat, the barrel jittering out of aim as he took another step towards her. "I will shoot! I don't care if it kills me at this point!"
Brandon didn't flinch, didn't raise his hands in surrender. He just kept walking, his measured steps eating up the space between them until he stood just inches away. Her breaths came faster, her chest brushing his lightly with every rise and fall.
He was so close to her.
The rush was inevitable, coursing through her like a drug and making her not think straight. He didn't move to disarm her, and she still hadn't shot him.
"What are you doing?!" She demanded, her voice cracking from the confusion.
He moved his hand slowly, so as to not startle her and gently brought the gun up, much to her shock. He didn't take it from her, just moved it up. The gun trembled in her grip as the barrel pressed against his chest, a little to the left and aimed right at his heart.
He leaned down slowly so that his face was just beside hers, "Go on, princess," His voice dropped down to tone more intimate, "Take the shot," His lips brushed the tip of her ear making her insides clench.
A wheeze escaped her lips at his words as she held the gun firm to the point he had put her aim at, "Are you crazy?"
One shot would end it all. She was a trigger press away from sending a bullet through his most vital organ and killing him. Her finger tremored over the trigger her own heart pounding in her chest.
His hand tightened over hers holding the gun and the other moving to her waist, anchoring her in place as he leaned closer. "Fire the gun," he repeated, his tone low, his words deliberate.
Brandon's fingers squeezed her waist steadily as he pressed himself against her, keeping the gun aimed at the one place that would remove him from the equation. She could feel her body react, just like it did when she saved his life in the king's study, "Fire the gun, princess, kill me," He repeated, his voice low and almost carnal-like in a way.
She was too high on the thrill to think straight. The same voice in her mind that told him to kill him before back in the training room seemed to remain quiet.
Almost like she didn't want to fire the gun. No! He killed her father, he is a murder, she would do the world some good by killing him!
JUST DO IT!
Before she had a chance to back out, Stella clenched her eyes shut and pressed the trigger.
Her eyes flew open as if instantly regretting what she had done, and she braced herself to hear the sickening crack of the bullet piercing through him.
Click.
She gazed down at the gun in shock.
Click click.
Nothing.
The magazine was empty.
Brandon's smirk returned, colder now, and she could hear the mocking edge in his tone. "Satisfied?"
She narrowed her eyes at him, but surprisingly, the itching need to break something was gone. The animal-like urge she had when she was trapped in the room was gone. Her body relaxed, a foreign feeling of satisfaction filling her being.
The rush of firing the empty gun was enough to quench those repressive needs.
Stepping away from her to put some distance between them, Brandon flipped the gun effortlessly out of her grip. His finger flicked open the handle and the empty magazine dropped into his other hand.
"Did you really believe you were going to kill me?" He asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. He turned the magazine over in his hand, inspecting it as though it were some curious trinket.
His smirk was different now—not the icy mask she'd grown accustomed to, but something more alive, more human. There was a thrill in his eyes, a spark she hadn't seen before.
"Granted you didn't know the magazine was empty," He let out a small scoff, not mocking, not tauntingly but oddly…roused, "You fired it, I'm impressed, princess,"
His gaze locked onto hers, and the heat in his stare made her throat tighten.
"You know, princess," he said, his voice dropping to something quieter, more intimate, the same whisper when he had asked her to kill him, "We aren't so different, you and I."
She clenched her jaw at his words, offended that he would make such a harrowing claim, "I'm not like you," She spat venomously.
Brandon tilted his head, unfazed by her outburst. The magazine spun deftly between his fingers, a small display of control that showed her they were worlds apart in skill, "Aren't you?" he asked, his steps bringing him closer, slow and deliberate, as though he were stalking prey.
Her breath caught as the distance between them narrowed again. His presence was magnetic, suffocating as he lowered his lips to her ear again.
Taunting. Raw. Carnal.
Her skin prickled at the way her body reacted to him. It was foreign, yet familiar; it was as if her body had missed the feeling of something she had never felt before. Craving something it never experienced.
Stella knew she liked Noah—there was no question about that. He was a constant, a person she could count on, someone who understood her in ways that didn't make her feel so broken. Her heart will always be with him, her mind kept telling her so.
But Brandon Silver… despite the seething hatred she harboured for everything he represented, everything he had done, her body betrayed her with every moment she spent in his wake.
It was like a moth to a flame.
Stars, was her silly little crush on him from years ago that strong?!
"I see it in your eyes," he said softly, the smirk on his lips deepening as his warm breath brushed the side of her face. "That hunger. That need to destroy, to feel the rush of something breaking beneath your hands. It's there, princess, whether you like it or not."
No. That couldn't be true. She wasn't like him. She wasn't a murderer like him! She was a good person, a person who fought for others, willing to sacrifice herself for her kingdom and her people if it came down to it.
They were nothing alike!
"I'm nothing like you!" Finally finding her voice, she bit out, though her tone wavered under the weight of his words and the feel of his closeness. "You don't know anything about me,"
He had said those very words to her before.
He pulled away at her words, much to her body's slight disappointment, straightening up as his hand still toying with the empty magazine. "Don't I?" he challenged, his voice almost gentle now, as if the edge of his coldness had softened just enough to let something raw slip through.
"You may be hell-bent on this perception that you are a good person, princess," He spoke, a tone that made her heart leap as she gazed up at him, a slither of space separating them. It was like he knew exactly what she was thinking. Her every thought was nothing but a transparent piece of glass to him.
His tone fell lower, gentler, "But the truth is, there are no good or bad people in this world."
"There are only people. People who do what they must for the ones they love to survive. Whether it's to kill or be killed," The words settled heavily between them, his gaze steady and boring down into her eyes. His expression remained unreadable, but the tone in his voice betrayed something far more intense, almost like he was speaking from experience.
Stella's mind swirled with possibilities on what he meant by that. Was he talking about his mother? How Lady Evelyn sacrificed herself for him and the kingdom? Or was it something else?
They stood there, in silence, her face gazing up at him as he stared down at her, a few merely fraction of inches separating them. Brandon's usually darkened brown eyes had this emotion Stella couldn't quite place as she searched his gaze for answers to questions she didn't even know she had.
For the first time ever, he was showing her something she'd never seen before, something she was yearning to know more of.
But it didn't last long as he closed his eyes, the cold and icy look of detachment carefully patching up the crack in his emotionless mask. He moved away from her, putting some distance between them, enough for her to snap out of her trance.
He shoved the empty magazine back into the gun before tucking it back into his coat pocket. "See yourself back to the palace, princess," He told her in his usual detached cold tone as she stood there stunned.
He didn't wait for a reply before turning on his heel, the echo of his footsteps receding as he walked away, leaving her speechless and yearning for more.
Whether it's to kill or be killed.
The words rang in her head in the silence of the arena. But one thing was for certain, he wasn't wrong. They were alike in some sense. Two sides of the same coin.
But the difference was Stella would rather be killed herself than kill anyone.
THE TENSION WAS SO THICK I HAD TO TAKE A SHOWER TO COOL OFF BAHAHAHAHA. If you didn't catch my drift, the tone changed to after hours when she aims the gun at him.
Yes ladies and gentlemen, what you saw was in fact a crack in his mask. FUFUFU we are finally getting started on the demise of High Commander Brandon Silver!
See you next week !
Lots of love,
Star