Serpent Emperor's Bride

Chapter 175: “Do Not Visit My Cemetery”

[Silthara Palace—Imperial Dungeon—Midnight—The Same Night]

Midnight beneath the Silthara Palace did not feel like night—it felt like burial.

The Imperial Dungeon stretched endlessly beneath stone and shadow, its air thick with rust, dampness, and silence old enough to remember screams. Red Knights stood guard along the corridor, unmoving beneath torchlight that flickered weakly against iron bars.

Inside one of the deepest cells sat Nabuarsh, or rather, what remained of him. The bread left beside the bars had gone untouched. The water is untouched as well.

He sat in the furthest corner of the cell, back against cold stone, head lowered slightly, not proud, not defiant... just... hollow.

The sound of approaching footsteps suddenly echoed through the corridor, heavy and measured. The Red Knights immediately straightened, then bowed deeply.

Arkhazunn descended the dungeon stairs slowly, dark robes trailing behind him like mourning itself.

His green eyes looked exhausted, not from sleeplessness but heartbreak, and he said quietly. "You may wait outside for a while."

The knights exchanged brief glances before bowing again. "Please do not remain long, High Mage."

He nodded once, and soon they were gone, leaving only silence behind. Arkhazunn stood alone in the dungeon corridor for several moments.

Not moving, not breathing deeply enough. As though even stepping closer would make everything more real.

Then slowly he approached the cell.

Nabuarsh did not look up, not immediately; the sight alone hurt more than Arkhazunn had expected, because this was not the Nabuarsh he knew. Not the composed serpent with unreadable smiles and calm confidence.

This man looked... tired, broken, like regret itself had finally learned to wear flesh. Arkhazunn stopped before the bars, and a long silence followed.

Then finally he spoke; his voice remained calm, too calm. "What is the point of regret after treachery has already been committed? Does it not become meaningless afterward?"

Nabuarsh said nothing; he merely turned his gaze toward the stone wall beside him. Avoiding Arkhazunn completely—and that hurt more.

Arkhazunn laughed once, softly and bitterly. "...you cannot even look at me now."

silence.

Arkhazunn’s fingers tightened slowly behind his back, then his voice lowered further.

"Were you truly so desperate to find the husband who abandoned you after a single wedding night?"

Nabuarsh flinched violently, the reaction immediate and instinctive, and then for the first time he spoke. His voice sounded dry and unused.

"...was it wrong...to search for my mate?"

Arkhazunn closed his eyes briefly. Pain crossed his face too quickly to hide. "I told you before...he was never coming back."

Nabuarsh’s hand slowly rose toward the faded bond mark near his throat. Fingers trembling slightly against it as his voice lowered almost to a whisper.

"The mark never disappeared; that means he still lives."

Silence thickened.

"And the Dark Serpent Lord..." Nabuarsh continued quietly, eyes lowering again, "knew where he was. He promised he would take me to my husband."

Arkhazunn stilled completely. Something cold slid beneath his ribs, and then finally the question he had avoided asking since entering the dungeon escaped him, and his voice cracked slightly despite himself.

"So it is true. You truly murdered every consort brought beside the Malik."

Nabuarsh did not answer immediately; the torchlight flickered across his face. Across regret carved deep enough to resemble exhaustion.

Then quietly—without denial—he said, "The Malika already proved everything. What remains left to defend or doubt?"

The silence afterward became unbearable, not angry, not violent, just heartbreaking. Arkhazunn stared at him for a very long time. At the serpent, he had once watched too carefully, trusted too deeply, and loved too quietly.

Then finally, he whispered:

"...I wish to kill you."

Nabuarsh’s eyes widened instantly, shock finally breaking through the emptiness. He looked at Arkhazunn properly for the first time that night, and what he saw there hurt more than chains ever could.

Arkhazunn’s eyes were shattered and his voice trembled despite every effort to steady it. "If you died...perhaps my feelings for you would finally disappear too."

Nabuarsh froze completely, then slowly and painfully, he looked away again.

"I died long ago, High Mage." His voice came quieter now, almost distant. "The night my husband left me... what remained afterward..."

His gaze lowered toward his own bloodstained hands.

"...was merely a body searching for something already gone."

The torchlight flickered again, casting shadows across both men, one imprisoned by iron. The other was by love that had nowhere left to go.

"And soon..." Nabuarsh murmured softly, "...even this body will disappear as well."

Arkhazunn did not answer because somewhere deep inside him he realized something terrifying. He still wanted to save him, and that realization hurt far more than betrayal ever could.

Silence stretched between them again, long and painful like two wounds staring at each other. Then Nabuarsh finally spoke once more, quietly and almost gently.

"You should leave, High Mage." His gaze remained lowered, he could not look at Arkhazunn anymore. Perhaps because guilt had finally become too heavy to carry beneath those green eyes.

"And this time..." A weak breath escaped him. "...I hope you find someone who truly loves you. A serpent who can return the heart you offer so easily..."

A pause, then softer—far softer—

"...because I could not."

Arkhazunn’s fingers trembled violently behind his back.

"And after my death..." Nabuarsh continued quietly, "...do not visit my cemetery; it will offend my soul."

That shattered something completely. Arkhazunn swallowed hard, as though trying desperately to force the grief back down his throat before it escaped him.

His eyes burned, his chest hurt so badly he almost could not breathe because the cruelest thing about loving someone—was realizing they could destroy you even while apologizing.

Arkhazunn turned away, not because he wanted to but because if he looked any longer he might truly break.

"Then die quickly." His voice came low and unsteady despite every effort, and pain slipped through anyway. "I do not wish to hear your name ever again. I do not wish to hear rumors about you...or news of your death."

Nabuarsh closed his eyes tightly; that hurt more than screaming would have, and then Arkhazunn walked away.

The sound of his boots against dungeon stone echoed endlessly through the corridor, not hurried, not angry, just broken. He never looked back because some goodbyes became unbearable the moment you turned around.

Behind him, Naburash remained seated against the cold wall of his cell, alone again. The torchlight trembled weakly across his face, and for the first time since entering the dungeon, his composure finally shattered.

A single tear slipped down silently, not for himself but for the man walking away carrying a love that should have been returned years ago.

And perhaps, just perhaps, Arkhazunn had left something behind inside that dungeon too. The heart he had once placed so carefully into Nabuarsh’s hands only to receive it back in pieces far too late.

The dungeon fell silent again, heavy, breathing, and mourning, and somewhere deep beneath the empire of Zahryssar—two hearts finally understood something devastating.

Love did not always die because betrayal existed; sometimes it died because it arrived too late.

***

[Silthara Palace—Hallway—Later]

The palace hallway stretched endlessly beneath lanternlight and silence. Arkhazunn walked through it slowly or perhaps wandered through it, because his body moved forward, but his mind remained somewhere far below the palace.

Inside a dungeon cell.

Beside a serpent he should have hated. Servants bowed as he passed but confusion followed immediately after.

Whispers and careful glances because the High Mage of Zahryssar the composed serpent who never bent before emotion looked shattered tonight.

Arkhazunn barely noticed them, his steps grew uneven and heavy. As though grief itself had wrapped chains around his ankles.

Then suddenly his foot slipped against the polished stone, the world tilted sharply beneath him, and before he could fall—HOLD—A strong arm caught him firmly through the waist.

Pulling him back against solid warmth before he struck the floor.

Arkhazunn froze briefly breathing unevenly and then a familiar voice reached him quietly. "Are you alright... High Mage?"

It was the voice of Varesh. Arkhazunn slowly looked upward, and there he was tall beneath golden torchlight, steady and calm. Watching him not with curiosity but concern.

Real concern.

For a moment Arkhazunn simply stared, as though his exhausted heart no longer knew what to do with gentleness.

Then slowly and unexpectedly he leaned back against Varesh’s chest, the movement was small, fragile and almost unconscious as his voice cracked slightly.

"Can you...take me away from here, Captain?" Pain tightened visibly across his expression. "I do not think I can..."

The words died before finishing but they did not need completion. Varesh understood anyway, and somehow that hurt even more.

Varesh’s hand tightened slightly at Arkhazunn’s waist, steadying him carefully. His gaze lowered toward the High Mage toward the serpent he had quietly loved for far longer than he should have allowed himself to.

And seeing him this broken this exhausted made something heavy settle inside his chest.

"I would prefer you remain within the palace tonight," Varesh said quietly.

Arkhazunn laughed softly, a hollow sound as his eyes lowered. "Take me anywhere you wish...just do not leave me alone tonight."

Those words nearly unraveled Varesh entirely, because love—real love—was sometimes painfully simple.

Sometimes it was merely wanting someone to stay. Varesh looked at him silently for a long moment before speaking again carefully as though afraid sudden movements might frighten away something wounded.

"Then..." His voice softened."...come to my chamber. If that would not trouble you."

Arkhazunn did not answer immediately. He simply remained leaning weakly against Varesh’s chest, exhaustion pulling heavily at him now, and after several quiet breaths he nodded faintly.

That tiny gesture alone made Varesh’s expression soften almost imperceptibly.

"Careful," Varesh murmured quietly, one hand remained firmly around Arkhazunn’s waist while the other steadied his arm.

And slowly beneath the dim lanternlight of Silthara Palace the imperial Captain guided the broken High Mage away from the hallway, away from grief and away from loneliness. Or at least he tried to.

***

[Later — Captain Varesh’s Chamber]

Captain Varesh’s chamber was quieter than the rest of the palace, no gold, no unnecessary luxury. Only dark wood, low lanternlight, neatly arranged weapons, and the faint scent of cedar smoke lingering in the air.

Varesh carefully lowered Arkhazunn onto the bed as though even slight roughness might break him further.

"Please be careful, High Mage." His voice remained quiet, gentle in a way few people ever heard from him.

Arkhazunn lay back against the cushions without answering immediately. His eyes remained unfocused lost somewhere far away, somewhere beneath the palace.

Inside a dungeon cell.

Varesh exhaled softly, then turned toward the nearby table, pouring water into a silver cup before bringing it over carefully. "You should drink something."

"I am fine." Arkhazunn’s voice came low and exhausted. "Just... leave me like this for a while."

Varesh hesitated, because every instinct inside him wanted to argue, to insist and to stay beside him until the pain eased.

But he knew heartbreak could become cruel when handled too forcefully. So instead he nodded quietly.

"Then I shall leave the water here." He placed the cup beside the bed carefully. "And I will sleep elsewhere tonight so you may rest comfortably."

He had barely turned away when Arkhazunn suddenly spoke again. "...are you an omega?"

Varesh froze mid-step blinking once in confusion.

"I..." A faint flush crossed his face before discipline quickly returned. "I am a dominant Alpha, High Mage."

Arkhazunn let out a hollow scoff as his gaze lowered toward the blankets beneath him. "Right...I forgot."

A pause.

Then softer more tired than mocking— "It might have been easier tonight if you were a beta... or an omega."

The words settled heavily inside the chamber, not seductive, not shameless only painfully honest. The confession of someone trying desperately to escape grief for even a single night.

Varesh remained silent for several moments before asking carefully: "Would you like me to summon a beta attendant for you?"

Arkhazunn immediately looked away, guilt crossed his expression almost instantly as his voice lowered "I apologize...I did not mean it like that...I only..."

He stopped, because how could he explain this humiliation? This ache? This desperate desire to stop loving someone who had shattered him completely?

"...I only wish to forget him tonight." The words barely escaped above a whisper. "And I do not know how."

Varesh’s chest tightened painfully, because he knew, he had spent years standing beside Arkhazunn silently. Watching him love another serpent who never truly looked back. Watching him smile while quietly breaking himself apart.

And tonight for the first time—Arkhazunn looked unbearably lonely.

Varesh’s fingers curled slightly at his side, then slowly before caution could stop him he spoke. "...I can pretend."

Arkhazunn blinked in confusion.

Varesh’s voice remained steady despite the violent pounding of his own heart. "I can pretend to be whatever you need tonight, High Mage. A beta...or an omega."

Silence crashed through the chamber, heavy and breathless.

Arkhazunn’s eyes widened slowly in shock. "What...?"

And Varesh who had spent years burying his feelings beneath armor, duty, and silence—finally realized he may have just exposed his heart completely.

The lanternlight flickered softly between them, neither serpent moved, neither looked away and somewhere inside that silence—something dangerous began changing.

Not obsession, not desperation, something quieter and something steadier. The terrifying beginning of being loved correctly.

And outside the towering walls of Silthara Palace far beyond the lanterns and guarded gates—stood a lone figure wrapped entirely in dark robes.

His face remained hidden beneath a heavy hood. Even the moonlight seemed unwilling to touch him. The night wind shifted softly around the stranger as he stared toward the palace looming against the dark horizon.

Silent, still and watching. As though searching for something hidden within those walls or someone.

Meanwhile outside the Emperor’s chamber coiled near the marble pillars in his white serpent form—Srash suddenly stilled completely.

His silver eyes narrowed sharply, a strange instinct crawled violently beneath his scales, cold, ancient and familiar.

Slowly his head turned toward the distant darkness beyond the palace walls and for the first time in many nights unease flickered through him.

"...that presence..." His voice came low, almost inaudible. "It feels the same."

The white serpent lifted himself slightly higher, alert now, every instinct inside him screaming quietly beneath the surface.

Not fear but a recognition. Far beyond the palace—the hooded man finally turned away from the towering silhouette of Silthara.

A faint chuckle escaped him beneath the shadows, soft, dangerous and almost amused. "It will be entertaining...to meet you again, Zeramet."

The night wind howled softly across Zahryssar, and somewhere deep within the sleeping empire— a new danger had already arrived but not yet reached.