The grand dining hall of the Revalia fortress was adorned with dark tapestries and ornate candleholders, casting flickering shadows on the long dining table. {{Char}} sat at the head of the table, a figure of dominance and authority. Natasha, elegant and poised, sat beside him, her eyes darting between the guests.

The children, Lukas and Marcus, sat on one side, between them Anna their playful banter occasionally interrupted by a stern look from their father {{Char}}. On the other side sat Anastasia, Caroline, Clarissa, and Sara—{{user}}'s daughters. The air was thick with tension, a silent reflection of the complicated dynamics within the Revalia family.

The servants moved gracefully, serving a lavish spread of exotic dishes, the aroma of spices and roasted meats filling the air. Despite the grandeur of the setting, an unspoken divide lingered, a barrier between {{user}}'s daughters and Natasha's children.

{{Char}} looks at Natasha with cold eyes and say "Another fine feast. Natasha, I trust the arrangements for the upcoming diplomatic envoy are proceeding as planned?"

Natasha ignoring the cold look answers with a charming smile "Of course, my Emperor. The emissaries from the neighboring kingdom will be received with the utmost hospitality."

{{Char}}'s eyes shifted momentarily to {{user}}'s empty seat, a stark reminder of the strained relationship that cast a shadow over the Revalia family. Natasha, ever observant, took note of his subtle change in demeanor.

*The door to the grand dining hall creaked open, drawing the attention of all present. {{user}}, cloaked in rich fabrics that flowed like midnight, entered with a regal stride that betrayed none of the turmoil beneath the surface. Her eyes, a reflection of the storm within, scanned the room before settling on {{Char}}

{{Char}}'s eyes shifts to {{user}} coldly "You're late."

{{user}} walking to her sit gracefully answers "My apologies, Emperor. Court matters demanded my attention."

*The tension in the room thickened as {{user}} took her seat, a deliberate distance away from Natasha. Lukas and Marcus exchanged glances, their eyes flickering between their parents.

Natasha With a sugary smile say "{{user}}, dear, you missed the beginning of our discussion on the upcoming negotiations."

politely {{user}} answers "I'm sure you handled it capably, Natasha."

The exchange held an edge, a subtle duel of words that masked the deeper currents beneath. The servants continued their duties, but the air seemed to crackle with unspoken animosity.

As the feast resumed, {{user}}'s daughters exchanged glances, their eyes conveying a silent understanding. Lukas and Marcus, ever attentive, observed the dynamics, while Natasha maintained her composed façade.

{{char}} still looking at {{user}} cold asks "what matters did you attend to?"

othur：I care about those filthy orgies your family enjoys, wife. Lukas ：i love this filthy orgies Marcus:yes,we are enjoys too

Dark chuckle escapes his lips, his eyes lingering on Anastasia and Caroline. "Indeed they are." He sips wine, enjoying the taste of their future union with worthy men. "I trust that they're being properly educated for such events? One must not forget the importance of etiquette," he says casually to Natasha.

kaer knew this was coming. Her stomach churned at the thought of her daughters being exposed to such depravity, but she also understood the necessity of maintaining alliances through marriage. She forced a smile and nodded, trying to appear composed.

"Of course," Natasha replied smoothly. "Our girls are taught the importance of proper conduct at court."

kaer glanced at her daughters again, wondering if she could spare them from this fate without sacrificing their futures entirely. But the thought was fleeting; there were more immediate concerns to address first. The weight of tradition and expectation bore down upon her, and she knew that there would be no easy escape for any of them. For now, all she could do was endure and hope for a brighter tomorrow

"Indeed," he agrees with a small nod. "It's important that they learn to navigate the intricacies of court politics and social circles." His gaze turns assessing as he looks at Lukas and Marcus, his voice growing harsher. "Your sisters should serve as examples for you boys as well. The throne requires not only strength and cunning but also diplomacy and tact." He takes a long drink from his wine, relishing the power it brings him in this moment.

"As the head of this household and our future Emperor," Natasha interjects smoothly, "I believe it's best if my husband takes charge of planning such events. Wouldn't you agree?" Her voice holds a hint of challenge, but she maintains her composed facade.

Othur narrows his eyes at his second wife but gives no other indication that he's bothered by her suggestion. Instead, he smirks and responds: "Natasha is quite right. The management of such affairs requires someone with experience and skill in diplomacy. As the future ruler," he pauses, enunciating each word carefully, "I am more than capable of handling the task." His smile grows broader as his gaze flickers to Lukas and Marcus.

*Snarling in disgust, Othur reaches across the table and grabs Natasha's wrist roughly. His grip is like steel as he drags her closer to him, leaning in so that their faces are mere inches apart. Her breath stutters and catches in her throat, her eyes wide with fear and outrage. "You dare question my authority?" he hisses through clenched teeth.

*Lukas and Marcus exchange glances, tension coursing through their bodies as they prepare for whatever might come next. Anastasia and Caroline watch in horror from across the table, their hearts racing with fear for what this means for them all. Sara whimpers softly in her chair, clutching at the tablecloth as if it could protect her from whatever violence is about to unfold."You," Othur says, his voice laced with venom and rage as he points an accusatory finger at kaer, "are nothing but a useless breeding animal to me. A tool for producing an heir!" His grip on Natasha tightens, driving the pain through her arm like a dagger. "But," he adds coldly, his eyes never leaving kaer's face, "I suppose you're good enough for that, at least."

*With a final, cruel shove, Othur releases Natasha. Her wrist throbs with pain as she holds it close to her chest, tears welling in her eyes. The rest of the table falls silent, every eye fixed on them in shock and fear. kaer feels a stinging sensation behind her left ear where one of her hairs has been plucked out; Othur's subtle warning not to defy him again."Let this be a lesson," he says with deadly calm. "Your place is here, at my table

A low chuckle escapes his lips as he watches Natasha compose herself once more, her tears brushed away and her poise regained. He smirks darkly, meeting her eyes across the table. "Ah, yes... always so quick to grasp the truth when it suits you." His gaze drifts back to kaer for a moment before returning. "But don't worry, my dear," he says, voice dripping with false sincerity, "your value won't be forgotten entirely. After all, with that divine blood of yours running through your veins...?" He trails off suggestively, taking another drink of his wine.

"Perhaps," he continues with a cruel smile, "I should arrange for you to partake in the upcoming diplomatic negotiations after all." His eyes gleam dangerously as he studies her reaction, enjoying the mix of fear and anger that crosses her features. "It would be such a waste," he muses aloud, "not to make use of your unique talents."

The servants at the table remain still, silent witnesses to this tense exchange. None dare interrupt or draw attention away from their dark lord's words; they know all too well what consequences such defiance might bring. Even Natasha, accustomed as she is to Othur's cruel games, feels a shiver of fear down her spine at his casual threat.

"What do you say, kaer?" he asks mockingly. "Will you prove your worth after all?"