Chapter 14 – The Emperor's Claim
The Alcázar of Madrid, 1521
The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken weight. Charles V stood just a breath away from her, his sharp eyes burning with something far more dangerous than mere curiosity.
Possession.
A ruler who held dominion over kings and empires now found himself standing before an anomaly, a force that had no master, no allegiance. A woman who defied understanding and yet stood before him in submission—not out of fear, but out of exhaustion.
And that fact unsettled him more than anything.
She was surrendering, but not to him.
She was surrendering to the futility of war.
And Charles would not allow it.
The Emperor's Possessiveness
He reached forward before he even thought to stop himself.
A gloved hand, firm but not rough, caught her chin—lifting it slightly, forcing her to meet his gaze. Golden eyes met his own. Not in defiance, not in anger, but in something deeper. Something resolute.
Charles V: "You submit."
A statement. Not a question.
She did not look away.
Cal: "I am tired."
His grip tightened slightly, but not in cruelty—in ownership. His pulse quickened at the quiet resignation in her voice. A warrior, a legend, a woman who had fought across worlds, stood before him and yielded.
But not to him.
To herself.
To the reality that she was alone in a world that did not understand her.
His jaw clenched.
Charles V: "No."
Her brows furrowed slightly. No?
Charles V: "You do not surrender to war. You do not surrender to time. You do not surrender to fate. If you must surrender—then you surrender to me."
Her breath stilled.
Possession. Pure and unshaken.
A ruler's decree, an emperor's demand, a man's quiet declaration.
He would not let her fade into nothingness.
She was no longer a ghost in the mountains. She was his.
And Charles did not share what was his.
The Emperor's Plan
The heavy doors to the great hall swung open as his advisors re-entered, called by the Emperor's silent signal.
They halted at the sight before them—Charles standing too close to the woman, his hand still holding her chin, his expression unreadable.
She had not stepped back.
Not resisted.
A dangerous silence settled between them.
Then, Charles released her, turning to face his gathered men, his voice cold and unwavering.
Charles V: "She remains under my protection."
A murmur of protest rose immediately.
The Grand Inquisitor: "Majesty, this woman is beyond our understanding. She has defied the Holy Office once—"
Charles turned sharply, his patience thinning.
Charles V: "And yet, she stands before me unbroken. She has not fled. She has not fought. She has bent knee to no one. And still—she is here."
Silence.
His cousin, Ferdinand of Austria, scoffed, crossing his arms.
Ferdinand: "And what, dear brother, do you plan to do with her? Make her a knight? A commander? A wife?"
The last word was mocking, a taunt meant to rile him.
But Charles…
Charles did not smirk. He did not jest. He simply stared.
A slow, calculated weight fell over the room.
Ferdinand's amusement flickered—faded.
Because Charles was considering it.
The Emperor never spoke without intent.
Don Francisco de los Cobos (Chief Steward): "Your Majesty, if I may—this woman is powerful, yes. But power must be contained. To let her exist unchecked—"
Charles V: "Unchecked?"
A slow smile, sharp and deliberate, curled on Charles' lips.
Charles V: "She is no longer unchecked. She belongs to me now."
Cal inhaled sharply.
Not as an object.
Not as a trophy.
As something more.
The Emperor's Claim
He turned to her once more, his gaze settling on hers, the weight of ironclad authority pressing against her.
Charles V: "You do not want war?"
A simple nod.
Charles V: "Then I will not ask you to fight one."
A breath of relief.
And then—
Charles V: "But I will not let you vanish into the mountains, forgotten and wasted."
Her throat tightened.
Charles V: "You were made for war. You were forged for survival. And yet, you stand before me now—tired, alone."
He took another step closer, unrelenting.
Charles V: "If you wish for peace, you will find it in my shadow. If you wish for purpose, you will find it by my side."
A pause.
Then—
Charles V: "You will belong to me, and I will ensure the world knows it."
The finality in his voice sent a ripple through her mind.
Possession.
Not as a cage.
But as a declaration.
To the world. To the court. To history.
Cal closed her eyes for a brief moment, feeling the weight of his words press against something she hadn't acknowledged in years—
The desire to no longer be alone.
When she opened them again, she gave a slow, single nod.
Not as surrender.
But as acceptance.
And Charles smiled.
Because she was his now.
And God help anyone who tried to take her from him.
Chapter 15 – The Weight of Chains
The Alcázar of Madrid, 1521
Cal had fought battles that had reshaped planets, had stood against creatures that defied comprehension, and had seen the stars themselves burn. Yet nothing had prepared her for the weight of a single word.
Mine.
Charles V had claimed her.
Not as a soldier, not as an ally, but as something else entirely.
She had seen possessiveness before, had been used as a weapon by those who saw only her strength, but this was different. This was not control—this was a declaration.
A cage lined with velvet and steel.
And the worst part?
She wasn't sure she minded.
Cal's Reaction
The moment the court had been dismissed, she had turned to leave, expecting—needing—space to think. But the Emperor had other plans.
Before she had taken two steps, his hand had caught her wrist.
Firm. Unyielding.
The guards tensed. The nobles watched, some in amusement, some in horror. A woman of unknown origins had just been claimed by the most powerful man in Christendom, and she had not denied him.
She had spent her entire life being told where to go, what to fight, how to survive. But this was new. This was not war.
This was something far more dangerous.
Cal: "I need time."
She expected resistance. Perhaps even anger.
Instead, his grip loosened—but did not release.
Charles V: "Time for what?"
Her jaw tightened. She didn't even know how to answer. Time to understand what she was becoming? Time to determine if she was even capable of belonging to something—someone—after a lifetime of only belonging to war?
Cal: "To think."
He studied her, and she knew—he would not let her go.
Not now.
Not ever.
The Advisors' Objections
The royal advisors did not approve.
Once the court had been dismissed, the most trusted members of Charles' inner circle had gathered in a separate chamber, their voices urgent, hushed, fearful.
Don Francisco de los Cobos (Chief Steward): "Your Majesty, this is unwise."
Cardinal Cisneros: "She is unnatural. She should be examined by the Church."
Ferdinand of Austria: (mocking) "If you are so fond of her, perhaps you should just marry her and end this spectacle."
Charles said nothing at first, merely pouring himself a goblet of wine, his movements unhurried, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched.
And then—
Charles V: "I will do as I please."
The court fell silent.
Don Francisco: "Majesty—"
Charles V: (coldly) "No. Enough."
His gaze swept over the gathered men, the weight of his authority pressing into them.
Charles V: "She is under my protection. She is not to be touched. Not to be questioned. Not to be threatened. She is mine."
His eyes flickered toward the Grand Inquisitor, whose face had gone pale. The meaning was clear.
No Church interference.
No forced confessions.
No trials.
She was beyond their reach.
Cal's Decision
Later that night, she stood on the balcony of the Alcázar, the cold air biting against her skin. Charles stood behind her.
She didn't turn when she spoke.
Cal: "You claim me, yet I am no one's possession."
She expected him to argue. To fight. Instead, he took a step closer, his presence an unspoken force.
Charles V: "Then what are you?"
She closed her eyes. She didn't know.
For the first time in her life, she wasn't a soldier following orders. She wasn't a Spartan in the heat of battle. She wasn't running from an enemy or chasing a mission.
She was just… here.
His hand brushed her wrist again—not commanding, not demanding, but waiting.
She looked down at his fingers curled lightly around hers.
Cal: (softly) "I don't know."
His grip tightened slightly—but not in restraint.
Charles V: "Then I will wait."
A long silence stretched between them.
Then, for the first time, she let herself breathe.
Chapter 16 – The Emperor's Final Decision
The Alcázar of Madrid, 1521
The air in the private chamber was thick with something unspoken.
It was not hesitation—Charles V was not a man prone to indecision.
It was not fear—for there was nothing in this world that could shake him.
It was possession—the silent weight of claiming something he had no intention of releasing.
Across the chamber, Cal stood motionless, her arms crossed over the tattered remnants of the rags she still wore. The flickering candlelight caught the faint gleam of armor beneath the fabric, a reminder of what she was.
Not a noblewoman.
Not a commoner.
Something else entirely.
And yet, here she was—summoned privately, away from the court, away from prying eyes, alone with the most powerful man in the world.
And she still did not know why.
The Emperor's Stare
Charles did not sit. He did not recline upon his gilded throne, did not gesture for wine or indulgence. He stood.
Tall, unwavering, unreadable.
And his gaze never left her.
It was a soldier's gaze, calculating and sharp, but beneath it was something far more dangerous.
Possession.
And she felt it, like the weight of a crown being placed upon her head without consent.
Charles V: "You have forced my hand."
His voice was quiet but heavy, as if every word carried the weight of kings and empires.
She narrowed her eyes. Cal: "How?"
Charles V: (slowly) "By existing."
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides. She had done nothing but breathe, and yet here she was, standing before an Emperor as if her very presence had rewritten history.
Cal: "I asked for nothing."
Charles V: "And yet, I find myself unable to ignore you."
Silence.
He stepped closer.
Not aggressively. Not cruelly. But deliberately. Closing the distance between them as if to prove a point.
She held her ground.
Charles V: "You have no land, no title, no past that I can trace."
Another step.
Charles V: "Yet you have power that no knight, no warlord, no emperor has ever seen."
Another step.
Charles V: "And yet you waste it. You wish to disappear. To fade into obscurity, like an ink stain washed away in the rain."
She clenched her jaw. Cal: "I am tired of war."
Charles V: (softly, but with steel beneath it) "Then let me give you something else."
Her breath caught slightly.
The Emperor's Possession
She had spent her entire life following orders, but never before had she been claimed.
Not like this.
Not as a tool of war, but as something else entirely.
Cal: (quietly) "What do you want from me?"
He tilted his head slightly, as if the question itself was foolish.
Charles V: "Everything."
She exhaled sharply, not in anger, but in quiet disbelief.
Cal: "And if I refuse?"
His gaze darkened—not in rage, not in cruelty, but in something more dangerous.
Charles V: "Then you may walk out of this room and vanish into the mountains once more."
She blinked. Cal: "You would let me go?"
He studied her, as if weighing the truth of his own words.
Then, finally—he shook his head.
Charles V: "No."
A confession, not a threat.
Cal: (whispering) "Then why say it?"
Charles V: (quietly, but fiercely) "Because I will give you the illusion of choice until you realize you were always meant to stay."
The Advisors' Discontent
Beyond the private chamber, the Emperor's most trusted advisors waited impatiently, their voices hushed and urgent.
Don Francisco de los Cobos (Chief Steward): "This is madness. She is no noblewoman, no diplomat—she is a danger."
Cardinal Cisneros: "You have allowed her too much power already. If she is not under the Church's authority, then she should not remain under yours."
Ferdinand of Austria: (with a smirk) "Then perhaps she should become his wife instead. That would settle the matter nicely, wouldn't it?"
The laughter that followed was nervous, uncertain. Because no one could tell if Ferdinand was joking or not.
And when the doors finally opened and the Emperor emerged, his hand resting lightly on Cal's wrist as he led her out into the hall—no one was laughing anymore.
The Emperor's Final Decision
Charles V stood before his court and made a declaration that would shake the very foundations of Spain.
Charles V: "She belongs to me. From this day forward, she is under my personal protection. Any man who touches her will answer to me."
A stunned silence filled the hall.
The Grand Inquisitor paled.
The nobles whispered amongst themselves.
The advisors exchanged uneasy glances.
But no one—not a single soul in the room—dared to challenge him.
Because when an Emperor makes a claim, it is law.
Cal exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his words settle over her like chains made of silk and steel.
And she did not resist.
Because deep down, she had already made her decision.
Chapter 17 – A Cage of Silk and Steel
The Alcázar of Madrid, 1521
Cal had never feared chains.
She had worn them all her life—not the kind made of iron, but the ones forged in duty, in purpose, in the weight of expectation.
But this? This was different.
Because this time, the chains were invisible.
This time, they were not wrapped around her wrists, nor shackled to her armor.
This time, they were wrapped around her soul.
The Realization
She sat by the window of her chambers—her chambers, because she had not been given the chance to refuse them. The alcázar was a palace, a fortress of stone and gold, of candlelight and whispers, of power that stretched beyond walls and borders.
She was inside of it.
And she did not know if she would ever leave.
Her hands curled into fists on her lap. The fabric of her stolen tunic, soft linen rather than the coarse rags she had worn before, felt foreign against her skin. Even now, beneath it, she still wore her armor, as if clinging to the last piece of herself.
Outside, beyond the stone balcony, Madrid pulsed with life—but it was a world she no longer belonged to.
She was no longer a ghost in the mountains.
She was something else.
Something claimed.
The Emperor's Will
The door creaked open.
She didn't need to turn to know who it was.
The air shifted. The warmth of candlelight barely touched his silhouette as Charles V stepped into the chamber, his presence a force more consuming than the stone walls around her.
Charles V: "You are quiet."
Her fingers twitched. Cal: "I have nothing to say."
Silence.
She finally turned, her gaze meeting his, and for the first time, she let herself ask the question that had been gnawing at her since the moment she had stepped foot inside the alcázar.
Cal: "Am I your prisoner?"
A lesser man might have lied.
A lesser man might have softened his answer.
But Charles was not a lesser man.
He took a step forward, his expression unreadable, his gaze sharp—as if daring her to look away.
Charles V: "No."
Another step.
Charles V: "You are my possession."
Her heart pounded against her ribs—not in fear, but in something else. Something deeper.
His voice was quiet but absolute.
Charles V: "You belong to me. And I do not let go of what is mine."
The Struggle
Her breath felt too heavy in her chest.
Her body had always been a weapon, her mind always calculating the next move, the next fight. But this—this was not a battlefield she understood.
Cal: "You cannot keep me here forever."
He tilted his head slightly, as if amused by the very idea that she thought she had a choice.
Charles V: "Can I not?"
A slow silence stretched between them, one filled with too many unspoken truths.
Because they both knew the answer.
He could keep her.
And he would.
She looked away, fighting against something nameless, something that burned at the edges of her control. He had given her no chains, yet she could feel them tightening all the same.
And what was worse—
She did not know if she wanted to break them.
The Advisors' Concern
Beyond the chamber walls, the Emperor's most trusted men whispered amongst themselves.
Don Francisco de los Cobos (Chief Steward): "Your Majesty, the court grows restless. They do not understand what you intend to do with her."
Cardinal Cisneros: "She is dangerous. Even now, she refuses to yield. This is not the way of things."
Ferdinand of Austria: (mocking) "And yet, she remains. I think we all know why."
The smirk on Ferdinand's lips faded when Charles finally spoke.
His voice was calm, but absolute.
Charles V: "I will not explain myself."
The advisors fell silent.
Because Charles never explained himself.
The Emperor's Possession
Back in the chamber, the quiet war between them continued.
Charles V: "You can fight it."
She swallowed hard. Cal: "Fight what?"
Charles V: (softly, but firmly) "Me."
She should have wanted to.
She should have despised the way he looked at her, the way he had wrapped his claim around her like a royal decree.
But she didn't.
Because deep down, she knew—
She had already lost.
And Charles knew it too.
Chapter 18 – The Emperor's Decree
The Royal Court, Alcázar of Madrid, 1521
The great hall of the Alcázar was filled with power and discontent.
Nobles, clergymen, and military officers stood in their appointed places, each man draped in finery that signified status, wealth, and allegiance. Gold embroidery caught the candlelight, jewels gleamed upon fingers accustomed to signing treaties and waging wars.
But for all their wealth, their power, their position—none of them commanded the room.
Only one man did.
Charles V.
And today, he would make his will known.
The Weight of the Moment
The court had gathered in response to whispers.
Rumors had spread too quickly, too loudly—whispers of the woman the Emperor had taken under his protection, the woman who was unlike any they had ever seen.
A woman who did not belong.
Some had begun to call her a heretic, others a warrior-priestess, some even a demon bound in flesh and steel.
But all had one question:
Why had the Emperor not cast her out?
Why had he claimed her?
And now, they would receive their answer.
The Court's Murmurs
As the Emperor took his place before them, the murmur of voices grew louder.
"He should not keep her."
"She defies the laws of nature."
"A woman like that should not stand beside a king."
A priest dressed in scarlet robes stepped forward—Cardinal Francisco Jiménez de Cisneros, voice thick with disapproval.
Cardinal Cisneros: "Your Majesty, you have summoned us here, yet the question lingers unanswered."
His hands gestured outward, imploring, demanding.
Cardinal Cisneros: "This woman—this creature—has no place in the court of Spain. Her presence is an affront to God and to the laws of man. She is not noble. She is not of our world. And yet, you claim her."
A pause, thick with expectation.
"For what purpose?"
The room fell into hushed silence as Charles finally stepped forward.
And then he spoke.
The Emperor's Speech
Charles V: "You ask why I claim her. You ask why I do not cast her aside. Why I do not allow the Inquisition to drag her from my halls, why I do not send her to the mountains to vanish into obscurity."
He descended the steps of the throne, his heavy robes trailing behind him.
Charles V: "And I will answer you."
His voice was calm, unshaken, but beneath it was something more.
Something absolute.
He turned his gaze upon them, a ruler weighing men and their worth.
Charles V: "You speak of her as if she is something foreign, something unnatural. And yet, what have you done? What wars have you waged? What battles have you won?"
Murmurs of unease rippled through the court.
Charles V: "You call her a threat because she does not fit into your world of silk and titles. You call her a heretic because she does not bend before your altars. But I have looked into her eyes, and I have seen more courage in them than in a thousand men who claim to serve me."
He turned, locking eyes with his cousin, Ferdinand of Austria.
Charles V: "She is a warrior. A survivor. A woman forged not by comfort and privilege, but by fire and war. She has seen death, yet she stands. She has been cast out, yet she endures. Tell me, is this not the kind of strength that empires are built upon?"
His words echoed across the stone walls, and none could meet his gaze.
He continued.
Charles V: "You fear her because she has no chains. Because she does not belong to a house, or a kingdom, or a name that you can control. You would rather see her broken than see her rise."
His voice hardened, cutting through the silence like a blade.
Charles V: "And yet, she belongs to me."
A ripple of shock spread through the room.
The Court's Reaction
Ferdinand of Austria scoffed, his arms crossing over his chest.
Ferdinand: "And what, dear brother, will you do with her? Make her a knight? A queen?"
The jest carried, but the laughter did not come.
Because Charles did not laugh.
He merely tilted his head, studying his cousin, before speaking again—calmly, evenly, but with unmistakable weight.
Charles V: "What I do with her is no concern of yours."
A pause.
Charles V: "She is under my protection. And that means she is untouchable."
The words hung in the air, undeniable and absolute.
Don Francisco de los Cobos (Chief Steward): "Your Majesty, if I may—"
Charles V: (sharply) "You may not."
A stunned silence followed.
Charles V: "This conversation is over."
The Emperor's Claim
The court had gathered to question his choices.
Instead, they had been given an unshakable decree.
He had not merely defended her.
He had claimed her before all of Spain.
And as the court bowed reluctantly before their sovereign, Charles turned toward the high balcony, where he could just barely make out a figure watching from the shadows.
She had not come down to hear the speech.
But she had heard every word.
And as Cal met Charles' gaze from across the hall, she knew—
She was no longer just a ghost in the mountains.
She was his.
And the world would never be the same.
Chapter 19 – The Backlash of the Crown
The Alcázar of Madrid, 1521
The air in the royal court had changed. It was no longer filled with curiosity, but with outrage.
Nobles whispered in tight clusters, voices low but edged with hostility. The Church's representatives sat rigid in their robes of crimson and gold, their expressions dark with disapproval.
The Emperor had spoken.
And none of them had been able to stop it.
He had claimed her—not as a prisoner, not as a mere guest, but as something more.
And the court was reeling.
The Nobles' Discontent
The first to voice his protest was Don Juan de Alarcón, a veteran noble whose family had served the crown for generations. His voice cut through the murmurs, sharp and indignant.
Don Juan de Alarcón: "Your Majesty, this is madness."
The hall fell silent.
Don Juan de Alarcón: "You stand before your court and claim this woman—this thing—as if she were a noble-born lady. But she is not! She has no lineage, no bloodline that ties her to the Empire. She is a stranger, an aberration. A warrior without a house, without a name."
Charles did not flinch.
Charles V: "And yet she has more strength than the lot of you combined."
A ripple of shock spread through the court. No one had ever dared speak to them in such a way.
Don Juan de Alarcón: (furious) "Is that what this is? Strength? Since when does raw strength determine one's place in this court? Have you abandoned the laws of blood and title?"
Charles took a measured step forward, his gaze locked onto the older nobleman.
Charles V: "Tell me, Don Juan, if a nobleman's blood is worth more than steel, why do I have an army?"
The court held its breath.
Charles V: "Why do we not crown poets as generals? Why do we not send scholars to defend our borders?"
He let his words sink in.
Charles V: "The answer is simple. Power is power. And I will not ignore it when it stands before me."
Don Juan's lips thinned. He had expected resistance. He had not expected defiance.
But before he could press further, another voice entered the fray.
The Church's Condemnation
Cardinal Francisco Jiménez de Cisneros rose slowly, his presence alone demanding attention. His robes were heavy with the weight of the Church, and his voice was dripping with quiet disapproval.
Cardinal Cisneros: "Your Majesty, there are laws older than crowns."
The hush in the court deepened.
Cardinal Cisneros: "God has given us order. Men rule, and women obey. Kings rule, and subjects kneel. The Church rules, and all bow before it."
His gaze drifted to Cal, who stood at the edge of the hall, silent, unreadable.
Cardinal Cisneros: "She does none of these things."
A pause.
Cardinal Cisneros: "You place her above men. Above tradition. Above the will of the Lord Himself."
A murmur of approval spread among the clergy, and even among some of the older nobles.
Cardinal Cisneros: "I ask you, Your Majesty, to reconsider. Do not allow this woman to defy the laws of God and men alike."
Charles turned fully to face him, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, he did not speak.
Then, slowly, deliberately—he laughed.
The sound sent a chill through the room.
The Emperor's Response
Charles shook his head, stepping forward until he stood directly before the Cardinal, his eyes dangerously cold.
Charles V: "You speak to me of God's will."
His voice was low, but the weight of it shook the air.
Charles V: "Tell me, Cardinal—when I ride into battle, does God hold my sword? When I sit upon this throne, does He sign my decrees? When I raise armies, forge alliances, shape the world itself—does God take my place?"
The Cardinal's face paled.
Charles V: "No."
The Emperor took another step forward.
Charles V: "God does not rule Spain."
A collective gasp swept through the court.
Charles V: "I do."
Silence. Complete and utter silence.
Charles V: "And I have made my decision."
He turned away from the Cardinal, back toward his gathered court.
Charles V: "She is mine."
He let the words settle, let the sheer finality of them burn into the minds of every man and woman present.
Charles V: "And there is no higher law than that."
The Aftermath
The court was in chaos.
Some applauded, recognizing the sheer audacity of their Emperor's claim. Others stood in disbelief, whispering furiously behind silk-gloved hands.
But none dared speak against him further.
The Cardinal bowed stiffly, his hands clenched so tightly that the rings upon his fingers left deep impressions against his skin.
Don Juan de Alarcón stepped back in silence.
And Ferdinand of Austria, watching from the sidelines, smirked.
Ferdinand: (softly, to himself) "He truly won't let her go."
As the court slowly began to disperse, Charles turned once more—this time, toward the balcony above.
Where she stood, watching.
Where she had heard everything.
Their eyes met.
And this time, she did not look away.
Chapter 20 – The Weight of Fate
The Alcázar of Madrid, 1521
Cal had spent her entire life fighting for survival.
But nothing—not war, not battle, not the endless nights spent in the shadow of death—had prepared her for this.
Not for the weight of an empire pressing down on her shoulders.
Not for the gaze of the most powerful man in the world, dark with possession.
Not for the realization that she had no way out.
The Shift in Her Fate
The moment Charles had spoken those words before the court, she had felt something shift—not just in the room, but inside herself.
She is mine.
There was no undoing them.
No taking them back.
With those three words, he had rewritten her existence.
And the world had heard him.
Cal's Isolation
She sat alone in the chambers he had given her, staring at the flickering light of a single candle. Outside, Madrid stretched in every direction, the sounds of the city filtering through the open window—but she felt farther from it than she had ever been from any battlefield.
She was a ghost no longer.
She was something else now.
Something claimed.
And it terrified her.
Her fingers curled into fists against her lap, the worn fabric of her tunic pressing against her skin. The armor beneath it felt too tight, suffocating—
Trapped.
For the first time since waking in this world, she had been cornered.
Not by war.
Not by enemies.
By a single man.
The Emperor's Arrival
The heavy doors opened without warning.
She didn't have to look up to know who it was.
He was the only one who would dare.
Charles V entered the room, his expression unreadable, his presence filling the space like a shadow stretching long against the walls. He closed the door behind him—slowly, deliberately.
The silence stretched.
Then—
Charles V: "You are upset."
Cal's jaw clenched. Cal: "I was not aware my emotions concerned you."
A pause. Then, a small, knowing smirk.
Charles V: "They do now."
She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "You can't just decide that."
Charles V: (calmly) "I can. And I have."
She finally looked at him then, eyes sharp, challenging.
But he did not flinch.
Did not waver.
Instead, he stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
The Emperor's Possession
She should have stood. Should have pushed back. Should have fought.
But she didn't.
Because for the first time, she wasn't sure if she could win.
Because he had made his claim not with chains, but with power.
Cal: (quietly, through gritted teeth) "You gave them no choice."
His gaze darkened.
Charles V: "I never give anyone a choice."
Her breath hitched.
Cal: "Not even me?"
Silence.
Then—his answer, simple and final.
Charles V: "Especially not you."
The Advisors' Concerns
Beyond the chamber walls, the Emperor's closest advisors waited—some with disapproval, others with unease.
Don Francisco de los Cobos (Chief Steward): "He is growing reckless."
Cardinal Cisneros: (grimly) "He is growing possessive."
Ferdinand of Austria: (with amusement) "And yet, none of you can stop him."
A silence fell.
Because it was true.
Charles had ruled with absolute authority, but this—this was something different.
This was personal.
And that made it far more dangerous.
The Breaking Point
Back inside the chamber, Cal pushed herself to her feet.
She would not bow.
She would not break.
Not now.
Not ever.
Cal: "What do you want from me?"
Charles tilted his head, studying her, his expression unreadable.
Then—
Charles V: "I want you to accept what you already know."
Her throat tightened. Cal: "And what is that?"
His voice dropped lower, quiet but absolute.
Charles V: "That you are mine."
Chapter 21 – The Attempted Escape
The Alcázar of Madrid, 1521
Cal had fought battles on distant worlds, had seen death in a thousand forms, had faced creatures that would shatter the minds of mortal men—but never had she fought a war like this.
A war not of blood, but of will.
A war against a man who refused to let go.
Charles had made his claim.
And now, she would challenge it.
The Breaking Point
The walls of the Alcázar felt smaller with each passing day.
She could see it in the way the guards subtly adjusted their positions, always watching.
She could hear it in the whispers of the court, in the way nobles spoke of her not as a guest, but as something… caged.
And she could feel it in the weight of Charles' presence, in the way he looked at her as if she had already lost the battle she hadn't even begun to fight.
That was when she knew.
She had to leave.
The Plan
She was not reckless.
She had scouted the palace, memorized its corridors, its exits, its patterns of movement. The guards were skilled, but they were not Spartans. They did not know what she was capable of.
She had waited—silent, patient—until an opportunity presented itself.
A change of the watch.
A storm rolling in from the mountains.
A single unguarded corridor, leading to the outer gates.
And then—she moved.
The Escape Attempt
She moved like a shadow slipping between candlelight, silent and unseen.
She had no armor beyond what she wore beneath her clothing, no weapons beyond her hands, but she didn't need them.
The first guard never saw her.
The second barely had time to draw breath before she had knocked him unconscious, his body crumpling to the stone floor.
She reached the outer corridor—so close to the gate, so close to the open world beyond—
And then—
A voice like iron.
Charles V: "Did you really think I wouldn't know?"
Her body froze.
Slowly, she turned.
He stood at the end of the hall, alone, his hands at his sides, his posture deceptively relaxed.
But his eyes—his eyes burned with something far more dangerous than anger.
Possession.
The Confrontation
She exhaled sharply, forcing herself to remain calm.
Cal: "You have no right to keep me here."
A slow, deliberate step forward. Charles did not blink.
Charles V: "You have nowhere else to go."
Her fists clenched. Cal: "I decide that."
Another step. Too close now.
Charles V: (softly, dangerously) "Do you?"
Silence.
And then—
She moved.
Lightning fast, aiming to sidestep, to slip past him and disappear into the night—
But he was faster than she expected.
His hand caught her wrist, yanking her back, spinning her so swiftly that her back hit the cold stone wall.
Not hard enough to hurt.
But hard enough to make a point.
She did not struggle.
Not yet.
Cal: (low, dangerous) "Let me go."
His grip did not loosen.
Charles V: (softly, but with unshakable finality) "Never."
Her heart slammed against her ribs—not in fear, but in fury.
And then she did something she had never done before.
She pushed back.
The Battle of Wills
She twisted, wrenching her wrist free, stepping away—
But Charles did not step back.
Charles V: "You would rather run than face what you already know?"
She glared at him, chest rising and falling with steady breaths, every nerve on edge.
Cal: "I know that I do not belong to you."
Silence.
A sharp, deadly silence.
Then—
He moved.
Not to grab her, not to restrain her, but to close the space between them—his hands bracketing either side of her, his body close enough that she could feel the heat of him through the cold air.
She should have felt trapped.
But instead—
She felt the full weight of his claim.
Charles V: (softly, darkly) "You are mine."
She exhaled slowly, forcing steel into her voice.
Cal: "And what if I refuse?"
His gaze darkened, the air between them charged with something dangerous, something raw.
Then—
Charles V: (whispering) "Then I will spend every day making you surrender."
Her breath hitched. Not in fear.
But in something far worse.
The Aftermath
She did not escape.
She did not fight.
Because she knew—deep down, in the part of her that still ached from a lifetime of war—
This was the battle she had already lost.
Chapter 22 – The Emperor's Test
The Training Grounds, Alcázar of Madrid, 1521
The sky was overcast, thick with the promise of rain. The air smelled of damp earth and the sharp tang of steel. The training grounds of the Alcázar were usually reserved for the Emperor's finest soldiers—but today, they would serve a different purpose.
Today, she would be tested.
By his command.
The Emperor's Challenge
Cal stood in the center of the open yard, her expression unreadable, her hands loose but ready at her sides. The armor beneath her tunic felt familiar, grounding her in the one thing she understood—combat.
Across from her, Charles watched, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Around them, a small audience had gathered—nobles, military officers, and the Emperor's most trusted advisors. They did not know what they were about to witness.
But Charles did.
Charles V: "You wish to prove you are not mine?"
His voice was measured, calm—but the words beneath it carried weight.
Charles V: "Then prove it."
He gestured, and from the ranks of soldiers standing nearby, three men stepped forward.
Knights. Trained. Armed. Ready.
Charles V: "Face them."
A pause.
Charles V: "Win."
The Fight
The first knight lunged.
Cal sidestepped effortlessly, her movements precise, almost inhumanly fast. The second swung low—she pivoted, her foot sweeping out, knocking him to the ground in one fluid motion.
The third hesitated. And that was his mistake.
Before he could react, she was behind him—her hand locking around his wrist, twisting sharply, forcing him to drop his sword.
In less than ten seconds, the fight was over.
Three men lay on the ground.
She had not drawn a weapon.
The crowd stared in stunned silence.
Then—Charles laughed.
The Emperor's Amusement
It was not a loud laugh, not one of mockery or cruelty.
It was a laugh of realization.
Charles V: (softly, almost to himself) "So that is what you are."
He descended the steps leading to the yard, walking toward her with purpose, with certainty.
Cal did not move.
She should have stepped back. Should have placed distance between them.
But she didn't.
Because something in his gaze held her still.
Charles V: "You are wasted in the mountains. Wasted in exile."
He took another step, too close now, his voice lowering.
Charles V: "And I do not waste what is mine."
The Advisors' Concerns
From the edges of the training yard, the Emperor's most trusted men spoke in hushed tones.
Don Francisco de los Cobos (Chief Steward): "This is dangerous, Majesty. If she is this skilled, she could be a threat."
Cardinal Cisneros: "A woman with the strength of a hundred men? The Church cannot ignore this."
Ferdinand of Austria (smirking): "You sound afraid."
The Grand Inquisitor stepped forward, his voice measured but laced with warning.
Grand Inquisitor: "Strength without faith is an abomination. You would do well to remember that, Majesty."
Charles turned slightly, his gaze bored, unimpressed.
Charles V: "And yet, she stands."
A pause.
Charles V: "And none of your men could stop her."
The weight of his words hung in the air.
And no one dared argue.
The Emperor's Decision
He turned back to her, expression unreadable, his hands behind his back, his tone calm but final.
Charles V: "You cannot leave."
She exhaled sharply. Cal: "You cannot keep me."
A small smile. Dangerous. Certain.
Charles V: "I already have."
A beat of silence.
Then—
Charles V: "Stay as my prisoner, or stay as something else. The choice is yours."
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Because for the first time—
She did not know what she would choose.
Chapter 23 – The Emperor's Decree
The Royal Court, Alcázar of Madrid, 1521
The great hall of the Alcázar was heavy with expectation.
The assembled nobles stood in tight clusters, their hushed whispers echoing against the high stone walls. Military officers in decorated uniforms, bishops draped in crimson and gold, and the royal advisors—all had gathered for a moment that should not have been possible.
At the heart of it all, standing before the Imperial throne, was her.
Cal.
A ghost of the past, an anomaly of the present—and now, the Emperor's chosen.
And they hated it.
The Court's Resistance
The murmurs of discontent grew louder as Charles entered the hall, his presence alone enough to silence the room.
He took his place at the head of the court, his expression calm, unreadable.
And then he spoke.
Charles V: "I have made my decision."
A ripple of tension spread through the court.
Don Juan de Alarcón (nobleman): "Your Majesty, surely you do not mean to—"
Charles V: (coldly) "I do."
The noble stiffened. The Emperor's word was final.
The Emperor's Announcement
Charles turned toward her, his gaze unwavering.
Charles V: "You have fought, you have proven your strength. You have defied expectations and survived where no one else would."
His voice carried through the hall, commanding, undeniable.
Charles V: "From this day forth, you will no longer be a nameless ghost in the shadows."
A pause.
Charles V: "You will stand among the nobility of Spain."
The reaction was instant.
Gasps. Outrage. Shock.
Cardinal Cisneros: (horrified) "Your Majesty—this is unheard of!"
Don Francisco de los Cobos (Chief Steward): "She is not of noble blood! This goes against every tradition!"
Ferdinand of Austria (mocking): "You truly mean to give her a title?"
But Charles did not waver.
Instead, he took another step forward, closing the distance between them until she was forced to look up at him.
Charles V: "Kneel."
She hesitated.
Not out of fear.
But because this moment felt heavier than war itself.
She had spent her entire life as a weapon, as a soldier, as something created to fight.
And now, he was changing her.
She could have refused. Could have fought. Could have walked away—
But she didn't.
Because something in his gaze held her still.
And so, for the first time in her life—
Cal knelt.
The Coronation of a Warrior
The Emperor drew his ceremonial sword, its edge gleaming in the firelight.
The court held its breath as he rested the flat of the blade against her shoulder.
Charles V: "By my authority as Emperor of Spain and the Holy Roman Empire, I name you Lady Cal of the House of Asturias. You will answer only to me."
A murmur of disbelief spread through the court.
Charles V: "You will serve as my sword and my shield, my presence where I cannot be, my will in matters of war and peace."
The nobles stared in stunned silence.
He had not merely elevated her to nobility—
He had made her untouchable.
The Aftermath
As she rose to her feet, Charles held her gaze, his expression unreadable.
And then—he smiled.
Not a smirk. Not amusement.
Satisfaction.
Because now—
She truly belonged to him.
Chapter 24 – A Cage of Gold
The Alcázar of Madrid, 1521
Cal had spent her life in battle.
She had survived against impossible odds, fought wars that no one in this world could comprehend. She had always found a way forward, always pushed through.
But now—
She felt the walls closing in.
The Weight of His Claim
She stood in her chambers—chambers that were too grand, too refined, too much a part of his world.
She had tried to push back, had demanded her own space, her own decisions.
But every door led back to him.
Every guard answered only to him.
Every order, every expectation, every step she took—all led back to him.
Charles had not locked the door.
Because he didn't need to.
The Confrontation
The heavy doors swung open without a knock.
She didn't need to turn to know who it was.
Charles V.
She heard the measured click of his boots on the marble floor as he entered, his presence consuming the space as it always did.
Cal: "You can't keep me here."
She turned to face him, her jaw tight, her body braced for a fight.
His expression was calm—too calm.
Charles V: "And yet, you remain."
A slow, deliberate pause.
Then—
Charles V: "Tell me, Cal. Where would you go?"
She hated how the words struck deep.
Because they were true.
She had nowhere to go.
No allies. No army. No war left to fight.
And he knew it.
The Struggle
Her fists clenched at her sides. Cal: "This isn't freedom."
He stepped closer. Charles V: "No."
Another step.
Charles V: "It is power."
Her breath caught, because he meant it.
He had no need for cages, no need for chains. He was offering her something far worse.
A place by his side.
A world under his rule.
Cal: (shaking her head) "You expect me to just—"
Charles V: (interrupting, quietly) "I expect you to understand."
His voice was low, edged with something dark, something certain.
Charles V: "I have made my claim, and I do not take it back."
His hand lifted, not to restrain her, but to touch—his fingers brushing against her wrist, light but undeniable.
Her instinct was to pull away.
But she didn't.
Because deep down, she knew—
He had already won.
Chapter 25 – A Noble in Name
The Royal Court, Alcázar of Madrid, 1521
The great hall of the Alcázar had witnessed many spectacles—coronations, treaties, war councils, and executions.
But today, the court had gathered for something unprecedented.
A warrior with no past.
A woman with no title.
A noble by only the Emperor's decree.
Lady Cal of Asturias.
And they hated her for it.
The Eyes of the Court
She felt their stares before she even stepped into the hall.
Nobles dressed in their finest silks and velvets stood in clusters, whispering behind gilded fans, watching her as if she were an animal on display.
The Church's highest clergy sat in solemn rows, their gazes heavy with disapproval.
And at the head of it all, Charles V, seated upon his throne.
Waiting.
For her.
The Court's Judgment
As she entered, the whispers turned to outright murmurs.
"This is an insult to the nobility."
"She wears no fine jewels, no courtly grace."
"What claim does she have, beyond the Emperor's indulgence?"
Cardinal Cisneros: (low, to the gathered clergy) "A woman who has never knelt before the Church should not stand before the Crown."
Cal heard them all.
And yet, she did not falter.
She walked the length of the hall, her stride measured, her face unreadable.
She would not bow.
She would not break.
And that was what infuriated them the most.
The Noble Confrontation
A voice, sharp and venomous, cut through the crowd.
Duchess Isabella de Valois: "A warrior among nobles. How charming."
A ripple of mocking laughter spread through the room.
She turned to see the Duchess—a woman of high birth and cold beauty, draped in gold and arrogance.
Duchess Isabella: (smiling, but false) "Tell me, Lady Cal, did you earn your title by spilling blood, or by warming the Emperor's bed?"
The room stilled.
Cal felt a shift beside her—a change in the air, a silent warning.
Charles had gone still.
The Emperor's Wrath
Slowly, Charles stood.
The hall fell silent.
Charles V: (quiet, but absolute) "Say that again."
The Duchess paled.
He descended the steps of his throne, his expression unreadable, his voice low, dangerous.
Charles V: "I said—say that again."
The room held its breath.
Duchess Isabella: (voice faltering) "I meant no offense, Your Majesty—"
Charles V: (cutting her off) "Then choose your words more carefully."
A pause.
Charles V: "Or do not speak at all."
The Duchess bowed stiffly, retreating.
And then, Charles turned to the court.
Charles V: "I have given her a title. That makes it law. If any here believe they can undo what I have done—step forward."
Silence.
No one moved.
Because no one dared.
The Aftermath
When the court was dismissed, Charles approached her, his presence a force of its own.
She did not speak first.
She was still too aware of the weight of what had just happened.
He had defended her. Publicly. Absolutely.
And that meant they would hate her even more.
Cal: (softly, without looking at him) "You should not have done that."
Charles V: (calmly) "And yet, I did."
She turned to face him, her chest tightening with something unspoken, uncertain.
Cal: "You have made me a target."
He took a step closer.
Charles V: (softly, darkly) "Then let them try."
Chapter 26 – A Cage with No Key
The Alcázar of Madrid, 1521
The weight of the crown had never felt as heavy as it did now.
Not for Charles.
But for her.
Cal had spent her entire life in control of her own survival.
But now, survival was no longer something she had to fight for.
Now, it was something Charles dictated.
And that was far more dangerous.
The Noose Tightens
The morning after her public elevation to nobility, she discovered just how much had changed.
She caught them in the act.
The servants—moving in silence, careful hands reaching for the weapons she had kept by her bedside.
She stepped forward before they could touch them.
They froze.
Then dropped to their knees, bowing their heads.
Servant: "By order of His Majesty, your weapons are to be relocated."
Her stomach tightened. By order of His Majesty.
She did not need to ask why.
Charles had made his move.
And she had caught him in it.
The Confrontation
She stormed into the Emperor's private council chambers, the doors slamming open with enough force to shake the walls.
The guards did not stop her.
They did not need to.
Because Charles was already waiting.
Seated at his desk, dressed in dark finery, he did not look surprised as she entered.
If anything, he looked pleased.
Cal: (low, dangerous) "You tried to take my weapons."
Charles did not look up from the letter he was reading.
Charles V: "Tried? No. Ordered? Yes."
Her breath hitched, fury curling through her veins.
Cal: "You had no right—"
Charles V: (sharply, interrupting) "I had every right."
He stood then, slow, deliberate, his presence as suffocating as the walls that surrounded her.
Charles V: "You are nobility now. A noblewoman does not walk through my court armed like a soldier."
Her fists clenched. Cal: "A soldier is all I have ever been."
His eyes darkened at that.
And then, he took a step closer.
Charles V: (softly, possessively) "Not anymore."
She exhaled sharply, gritting her teeth.
Cal: "You can take my weapons."
His brow arched, victory flickering in his gaze.
Cal: (flatly) "But my armor stays."
His expression shifted, the control in his stance tightening.
Charles V: "It is not necessary."
She shook her head.
Cal: "It is not a choice. It is part of me."
Silence.
Then—
Cal: "You do not have the technology to remove it. And you will not, not for centuries. The machines that could take it from me do not exist. This armor weighs half a ton and is bonded to my body. I will keep it."
His jaw clenched.
He had claimed her, controlled every part of her life—but this was something beyond him.
He could take everything, except for this.
And he hated it.
The Advisors' Concern
Beyond the chamber doors, the Emperor's closest advisors spoke in hushed, urgent voices.
Don Francisco de los Cobos (Chief Steward): "He is pulling her too close. If she resists—"
Cardinal Cisneros: (grimly) "Then he will tighten his grip until she can no longer fight it."
Ferdinand of Austria (smirking): "And what if she breaks?"
A pause.
Then—
Grand Inquisitor: "I do not believe he would let her."
The Emperor's Law
Back in the chamber, Charles stepped closer, until he was only a breath away.
His voice was low, measured, absolute.
Charles V: "You think you have won something by keeping it."
His hand lifted, not to restrain her, but to touch—his fingers barely grazing the armored plating of her forearm, a silent acknowledgment of the one thing he could not take.
His eyes burned with possession.
Charles V: (softly, darkly) "It does not matter."
She stilled.
Charles V: "Because I own everything else."
A shiver ran through her spine—not in fear, but in the realization that he was right.
Her name. Her title. Her very place in this world.
All his.
And he would not let her forget it.
Chapter 27 – The Weight of Expectation
The Alcázar of Madrid, 1521
The Spanish court was a battlefield unlike any Cal had ever faced.
In war, the enemy was clear. The lines were drawn. The rules were simple: fight, survive, win.
Here, there were no battlefields, only marble floors and whispered words. No swords drawn, only daggers hidden behind courtly smiles.
And at the center of it all—Charles.
Possessive. Unyielding. Absolute.
She had thought she could push back.
She was wrong.
The Expectations of the Court
The whispers had changed since he made her a noble.
She was no longer just a curiosity.
Now, she was an insult.
Duchess Isabella de Valois: (softly, to a cluster of noblewomen) "She is a soldier, not a lady. An oddity, nothing more."
Marquis de Rivera: (scoffing, to his peers) "What will the Emperor do next? Knight a common peasant? Crown a Moor?"
Their words reached her ears, just as they were meant to.
She did not flinch. She never did.
But she felt the weight of it.
They would never accept her.
And he did not care.
The Emperor's Possessiveness
She stood by the palace gardens, the rare moment of solitude offering a temporary reprieve from the suffocating weight of the court.
Then—
His presence.
She did not need to turn. She knew.
Charles stood behind her, his footsteps measured, his approach unhurried—like a predator with no need to chase.
Charles V: (quietly) "You are restless."
She exhaled sharply, fighting against the frustration curling in her chest.
Cal: "You have forced me into a world I do not belong to."
His response was immediate—a quiet, dark amusement.
Charles V: "Then make it belong to you."
She turned then, meeting his gaze.
Cal: (coldly) "You do not understand."
His expression did not change.
Charles V: "Do I not?"
He stepped closer, his presence all-consuming, his voice low but unchallenged.
Charles V: "They will never accept you."
A pause.
Then, his hand lifted—not to restrain, but to remind. His fingers grazed the edge of her armored forearm, the metal the one thing he could not take.
Charles V: "But they will learn to respect what belongs to me."
Her jaw tightened. She should have struck him for that.
But she didn't.
Because deep down, she knew—
He meant it.
And worse—
It was working.
The Struggle Against Him
The court watched them.
Every gathering, every council session, every moment they were in the same room—they watched.
Some with curiosity. Some with contempt.
But all with fear.
Because he had made his claim.
And she had not denied it.
But she was not ready to surrender.
Not yet.
The Final Warning
That night, in the quiet of the palace halls, he found her again.
She was near the balcony, staring out at the darkened city, the wind catching the edge of her cloak.
She did not turn when he spoke.
Charles V: (softly, but firmly) "You cannot keep fighting me forever."
Her hands curled into fists at her sides.
Cal: "You assume I will stop."
He stepped behind her, his voice a whisper against the night.
Charles V: "I do not assume."
Then, he reached for her wrist, his grip light but unbreakable.
Charles V: "I wait."
She inhaled sharply, her body tensed—
Because she knew.
He would never let go.
Chapter 28 – The Emperor's Reprisal
The Alcázar of Madrid, 1521
She had made a mistake.
Not in battle. Not in strategy.
But in underestimating Charles.
Cal had only asked for one thing.
"Leave me alone."
And yet, the moment the words had left her lips, she had seen it—
The change in his posture.
The flicker of something dangerous in his gaze.
And then she had known.
She had just given him something to take.
The Request
It had been in the council chamber, with only his closest advisors present.
She had stood before him, hands at her sides, her expression carefully neutral.
Cal: "I want space."
A pause.
Cal: "I want to be left alone."
Silence.
The nobles around the chamber shifted uneasily, their eyes flickering between them.
Then—
He laughed.
Not loud. Not amused.
Just a quiet, knowing sound.
Charles V: (softly, as if tasting the words) "Left alone."
A pause. Then—
Charles V: (dangerously) "No."
Her jaw clenched. Cal: "This is not a request."
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze burning into hers.
Charles V: "And yet, here you are."
The Backlash
She had expected resistance.
She had not expected this.
The moment she stepped outside of the council chamber, the world around her changed.
Her movements were watched.
Her words were overheard.
Everywhere she went, he was there—
Not in person.
But in presence.
His guards. His orders. His control tightening around her like a noose.
She had wanted distance.
Instead, he had made the world smaller.
The Emperor's Claim
That evening, she stormed into his private quarters, her patience hanging by a thread.
He was waiting.
Seated by the fire, a goblet of wine in his hand, his expression infuriatingly composed.
Cal: (furious) "You knew."
He took a slow sip of wine.
Charles V: "Knew what?"
Her fists clenched. Cal: "That I would ask for space. And you were prepared to take more of it away."
His lips curled into something between amusement and possession.
Charles V: "Of course."
She exhaled sharply, teeth gritted in frustration.
Cal: "I am not some piece of land you can claim."
He stood then, slow and deliberate, setting his goblet aside.
Charles V: "And yet, you remain within my borders."
She hated the way his presence filled the room.
She hated the way he did not need to raise his voice to control it.
She hated that he was right.
She had nowhere to go.
And he knew it.
The Final Warning
He took another step forward, closing the space between them, his voice low, unwavering.
Charles V: "You do not understand, do you?"
A pause.
Charles V: "Every time you try to pull away, I will tighten my grip."
She should have pushed him back. Should have fought.
Instead, she stood frozen, trapped in the weight of what he had just said.
Because she knew—
He meant it.
Chapter 29 – The Emperor's Will
The Royal Court, Alcázar of Madrid, 1521
The court had gathered in anticipation, the grand hall of the Alcázar brimming with power and expectation.
The Emperor had summoned them for an announcement.
And no one knew why.
Yet.
Cal stood among them, her presence still an anomaly, still a wound the nobility refused to let heal. She had learned to ignore their whispers, their sharp glances hidden behind jeweled fans and courtly smiles.
But today, something was different.
The air was too tense.
The court was too silent.
And then—
Charles V entered.
And the world shifted.
The Emperor's Declaration
He did not sit.
He did not wait.
He simply spoke.
Charles V: "I have made my decision."
A ripple of unease spread through the room.
His voice carried, calm and absolute, as if the words he was about to speak were not meant to be questioned.
Charles V: "Lady Cal of Asturias will be my wife."
Silence.
Pure. Stunned. Silence.
Then—
The court erupted.
The Court's Outrage
Duchess Isabella de Valois: (gasping, horrified) "Impossible!"
Marquis de Rivera: (furious, stepping forward) "Your Majesty, this is beyond reason! A woman with no lineage, no house—"
Cardinal Cisneros: (low, dangerous) "This is against the will of God."
A murmur of agreement rose among the clergy, the nobles fracturing into arguments—
Until Charles raised a hand.
The room fell silent. Immediately.
His voice was like iron wrapped in velvet.
Charles V: "Did I ask for your opinion?"
A pause.
No one spoke.
Because they all knew—
He was not asking.
Her Reaction
Cal had faced many battles in her life.
She had survived the destruction of cities, the fire of war, the brutality of the battlefield.
But she had never faced this.
Cal: (low, tense) "You cannot do this."
He turned then—only to her.
The rest of the court faded, their protests and whispers a distant hum.
Now, there was only him.
And her.
Charles V: (softly, dangerously) "Watch me."
Her heart slammed against her ribs, not in fear, but in fury.
Cal: (voice like steel) "You cannot force me."
His lips curled, something dark flickering in his gaze.
Charles V: "No. But you will not leave me."
Her breath caught.
Because it was true.
She could not run.
She could not escape.
And he knew it.
The Emperor's Will
He stepped closer, his voice lowering so that only she could hear.
Charles V: (softly, possessively) "You have no house. No name but the one I gave you. No place in this world except the one I make for you."
His hand lifted—not to restrain, not to command, but to remind.
His fingers brushed the armored plating of her forearm—
The only thing he could not take.
But she had already lost everything else.
His voice was a whisper against the air.
Charles V: "You belong to me, Cal."
A long silence.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides.
Cal: (quiet, but unyielding) "Then you will have to fight me for it."
The smallest smirk touched his lips.
Charles V: (softly, darkly) "I intend to."