Chapter 2: Chapter 2
The iron grip of despair had choked the life out of Pertani. Where once joyous laughter and the clatter of daily life filled the air, now only a suffocating silence remained.
Banner poles stood stark and bare, the vibrant colors of Pertani's defiance leached away by the relentless sun.
The once bustling marketplace was a desolate wasteland, stalls overturned, wares scattered like the shattered dreams of the people.
The air itself felt heavy, laden with the ghosts of battles fought and lives lost.
News of Tiberius's cruelty had preceded him like a plague. Whispers of villages razed to the ground, of families torn apart, reached Pertani long before the glint of his conquering army stained the horizon.
Now, with the knowledge of their beloved king and queen lying slain in the desecrated throne room, the citizens of Pertani felt a hopelessness as vast and heavy as the sky above.
Those who dared to peek from behind shuttered windows met eyes filled with a dull despair.
Gone were the lively sparks of Pertani's spirit, replaced by a hollow resignation. Even the children, their innocence typically a shield against hardship, seemed to carry the weight of the world on their small shoulders.
Even the normally vibrant birdsong seemed muted, as if in mourning for the fallen kingdom.
The once proud banners of Pertani, now trampled mud underfoot, bore a chilling truth: their fight was over.
The future stretched before them like a barren wasteland, and the iron fist of Emperor Tiberius promised only a life devoid of hope, joy, or freedom.
Pertani, once a beacon of light, was now a kingdom shrouded in an oppressive darkness that seemed to seep into the very souls of its people.
The oppressive weight of victory settled heavily on Tiberius's shoulders as he returned to his study. Sunlight filtering through windows illuminated a sea of parchment - logistical nightmares of occupation sprawled across every surface. He ran a hand through his hair, a grimace twisting his features.
The familiar thrill of conquest was strangely hollow, replaced by a disquieting emptiness.
A creak at the door announced the arrival of Marcus, his perpetually worried secretary.
"Your Majesty," Marcus began, his voice barely a whisper. "The princess' chambers are prepared."
Tiberius grunted in acknowledgment, the memory of Somnia's sleeping form flashing into his mind.
The image of her ethereal beauty and defiant spirit sparked a flicker of something… unexpected. He recalled his initial impulse – to lock her away in the dank confines of the dungeon.
But the vision of her serene face, a quiet power radiating from her even in slumber, had stayed his hand.
Shame gnawed at him. Was this gilded cage truly a concession, a twisted form of respect for her divinity? Or was it a way to soothe some unbidden disquiet within him? He dismissed Marcus with a curt nod, his internal conflict churning.
He would see Somnia again soon, within the confines of her opulent prison. How would the princess of a fallen kingdom react to her gilded cage? Would her defiance crumble, or would her spirit burn even brighter within its gilded bars?
The uncertainty gnawed at him, a stark counterpoint to the hollow echo of victory that reverberated within the conquered palace walls.
Somnia blinked awake, the opulent surroundings assaulting her senses. Unlike her simple, familiar chambers in Pertani, this room pulsated with a gaudy display of wealth.
Mountains of plush cushions smothered the floor, a crystal chandelier cast an unflattering, flickering light, and jewels winked from every corner like a million mocking eyes.
A sardonic smile played on Somnia's lips. So, this was the Emperor's idea of a prison? It was more of a golden cage designed for a pampered canary, not for a prisoner.
The very idea brought a flicker of amusement to her eyes. There was something almost endearingly naive about Tiberius's attempt to confine her with such excessive luxury.
Somnia doesn't even a bit felt offended and just felt amused for the man's stupid intention of keeping her as a pet.
This is the first time in her life that someone dared to blaspheme her. A soft chuckle escaped her lips, the sound echoing eerily within the opulent confines.
Her gaze drifted to the walls, plastered with elaborately framed paintings. However, a frown creased her brow as she took a closer look.
These were not landscapes or battle scenes as she was accustomed to. Each canvas depicted scenes of unclothed humans, their forms rendered in startling detail. Disgust flickered across her face - such blatant displays of the flesh were considered vulgar in her realm.
Yet, beneath the initial repulsion, a strange fascination took hold.
The artist's skill was undeniable. Muscles rippled with a lifelike quality, skin tones seemed to shimmer in the lamplight, and even the textures of fabrics were captured with an almost disturbing accuracy.
It reminded her of Elara, her dear friend in the celestial realm, a goddess renowned for her mastery of the brush. Elara could weave emotions and stories into her paintings, breathing life into every stroke.
Despite the subject matter, Somnia found herself drawn to the technical brilliance on display. She moved from painting to painting, her fingers tracing the intricate details of flowing hair or the glint of a jewel. Perhaps, she mused, there was something to be learned even from these distasteful subjects. A ghost of a smile touched her lips.
This unexpected confinement might not be so bad after all.
Somnia, lost in the intricate details of a particularly well-rendered portrait, was startled by the creak of the heavy oak door. A flicker of annoyance crossed her face, momentarily breaking her concentration.
Glancing towards the source of the sound, her eyes met the imposing figure of Emperor Tiberius. He stood framed by the doorway, a scowl etched across his features as he surveyed the opulent chamber.
Despite his imposing presence, Somnia felt no fear. Instead, a cool amusement sparked in her golden eyes. This man, who had conquered her kingdom and slain her parents, stood before her as if expecting some show of submission. She would give him nothing of the sort.
"Princess Somnia," Tiberius began, his voice clipped and authoritative. He paused, seemingly searching his mind for the appropriate words. The silence stretched, thick with tension.
Somnia remained perfectly still, her gaze unwavering. Taking the opportunity to openly study the face of her captor. He has a blond, yet curly long hair, and his eyes is of a good blue color. What a lovely face, this face can definitely contend to that god of love's countenance.
A nagging truth settled in her sleepy mind. This… this room wasn't so bad. In fact, with its plush cushions and thick tapestries, it was practically an invitation to a goddess's power nap. An absurd thought, considering the circumstances. Yet, compared to the hard marble floors of her chambers back in the celestial realm, this place wasn't half bad for catching some Zzz's.
"I trust your accommodations are satisfactory?" Tiberius finally managed, his voice barely a question. The forced politeness grated on Somnia's nerves.
A slow, sardonic smile spread across her lips. "One could say," she replied, her voice cool and measured, "that this cage is far too… gilded for a prisoner." She gestured towards the opulent surroundings with a flick of her wrist.
This whole situation was strange. She didn't remember how she ended up here, in this unfamiliar world, a prisoner of this man.
If someone asked her if she wanted to return… well, how would she even get back? For now, at least, this gilded cage offered a semblance of comfort. Perhaps, Somnia mused, while drifting off to a calculating slumber, there was some advantage to be found in this unexpected captivity. She would play their game, learn what she could, and bide her time. After all, a well-rested goddess is a powerful goddess.
Tiberius's scowl deepened as he stepped further into the room, his gaze flitting nervously between Somnia and the paintings that adorned the walls. The air crackled with unspoken words, a battle of wills waged on a silent battlefield.
With a languid grace that belied her exhaustion, Somnia drifted towards the bed, burying herself in the luxurious cushions. Sleep, that glorious escape, beckoned, and she surrendered to its embrace with a sigh of contentment.
Tiberius followed after Somnia and stared in shock at her sleeping face.
Astonishment contorted his features. Hadn't this woman just woken up? Her sleep posture suggested utter abandon, as if she had collapsed after a long and arduous journey. Yet, he distinctly remembered her drowsy blinking moments ago.
"Princess Somnia," Tiberius began, his voice barely a whisper. There was a strange hesitancy in his tone, as if he wasn't entirely sure if she was truly asleep or merely toying with him.
Somnia, nestled deep within the plush cushions, remained blissfully still. A faint, almost undetectable smile played on her lips. This was too easy. Letting out a soft, contented sigh, she feigned a deeper sleep, basking in the absurdity of the situation.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Thealovesbishies
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