I Was Never Meant to Bow

The future Empress Cassara and Aureyne, her little shield knight, had only been seven years old when Aureyne had promised to change the rules.

They had been lying down in the meadow between the clovers and tiny bluebells that nodded in the breeze. Cassara lay on her back looking for oddly shaped clouds, with Aureyne – her cheek smudged with dirt – sat beside her, her cerulean eyes almost as bright as the summer sky.

“I am going to win The Games someday,” Aureyne had declared, her voice small but certain.

Cassara had turned her head, a few strands of her silky, ink black hair blowing in the soft breeze. “But no woman can enter,” she replied with a soft giggle at the utterly ridiculous declaration of her best friend and shield knight. “It’s always men. That’s the rule.”

No woman could enter The Games. The Nationwide spectacle – a holy tradition to find the husband for the Empress when she comes of age at twenty-five years old.

The Game isn’t just about finding a husband – it’s a ritual of loyalty. The winner of The Game proves they can protect the Empress and the Empire. It’s both entertainment for the people of the Empire and a grim reminder that ambition is sacrifice. Because most of the men who enter, only a handful make it out alive.

Aureyne had frowned, a stubborn crease – that Cassara knew all too well – forming between her brows. “Rules change. Or I’ll change them.” Aureyne plucked a dandelion and blew the seeds into the air like a tiny promise. “When you’re Empress, I’ll fight. I’ll win. And then I’ll marry you.”

Cassara had laughed, her pale cheeks flushed pink. “You’re ridiculous.”

Years later, when Cassara and Aureyne were fifteen years old, Aureyne had once again brought up her desire to enter The Game.

They had been standing in that same meadow, surrounded by clovers, dandelions, and tiny bluebells. They had sneaked out, both running away from their duties. Cassara had been tired of her never-ending lessons on how to rule the Empire when she would be crowned Empress, after her Mother, the current reigning Empress, steps down when Cassara comes of age.

And Aureyne ran away from the brutal training courses to become an Elemental Knight – a knight personally serving the Emperess with the ability to control one of the four elements, Aureyne’s element being water.

“The Games are ten years away,” Cassara had said, her voice carrying traces of sadness. “It’s so far away, and yet, it feels like the spectacle is already breathing down my neck. It’s cruel, isn’t it? That I must marry a stranger chosen by blood and violence.”

Aureyne’s jaw had tightened. “Then let me fight.”

“You know the rules,” Cassara murmured. “Only men. Even if you were the strongest in the realm, they would never allow it.”

Cassara’s smile had faltered then. Soft and aching. “Maybe… Maybe when I am Empress, I can take you as my concubine. At least then you’d stay by my side.”

“That’s not enough.” Aureyne had stepped closer, her cerulean blue eyes almost icy. “You are mine, Cassara. And I will stand beside you – as your equal. If I have to carve my name into The Game with blood and steel, then so be it.”

Cassara’s breath had caught in her throat. But she hadn’t answered.

The next decade flew by, and the opening of the dreaded Nationwide Spectacle was about to begin. Just a week before, Cassara had been crowned Empress. The crown resting on top of her silky black hair was heavy. Not only would she be giving her life to the Empire, but she was also forced to wed a complete stranger – a man – to fulfill the destiny placed on her shoulders the moment she breathed her first breath.

Empress Cassara sat at the high dais, underneath the imperial canopy, overseeing the Arena. Every man in the Empire with the ambition to become her husband and the next Emperor was announced for all to hear. An unbreakable, magical contract would be made the second they stepped into the Arena. Once entered, there would be no way out.

You win, you’re disqualified, or you die. That’s the way of The Games.

“The next contender enters The Game,” the herald’s voice thundered around the Arena. A scroll with the next contender’s name, foolish enough to enter and gamble away their life for ambition, magically appeared in his chubby hands.

“Elemental Knight Aureyne of the Eastern Tides.”

~*~

The gates groaned open. Aureyne stepped forward, every heartbeat a drum against her ribs.

The roar of the crowd swelled and broke, thousands of voices crashing like a storm tide.

Let them stare.

Her boots met the sand with the slow, measured rhythm of a soldier who would not be hurried.

“The next contender enters The Game – Elemental Knight Aureyne of the Easten Tides.”

The noise fractured into gasps and sharp whispers.

Woman.

Impossible.

Blasphemy.

The words rippled through the Arena like the tide washes over the shore.

Aureyne did not bow.

Instead, she tilted her chin higher. Every step towards the center of the Arena felt like carving a path through centuries of tradition.

She could almost hear the old laws concerning The Game splintering beneath her heels.

And then – her eyes found the high dais.

Cassara – her Cassara – sat beneath the imperial canopy, wrapped in white and silver, her crown catching the hard light of the midday sun. Composure carved her beautiful, elegant features, almost as if she was carved out of marble, but Aureyne knew the tiny tremor of her left hand – the way her fingers curled tight against the throne when her heart betrayed her mind.

Aureyne, my love, Cassara’s gaze seemed to whisper across the distance, What have you done?

Everything, Aureyne answered in silence. Everything I promised you.

Aureyne let the crowd roar. Let the old men of the council choke on their outrage. For this was the moment she had trained for since the days of a flower field and whispered vows.

She was never meant to bow.

~*~

The echo of the roaring Arena still clung to the palace walls. Cassara mused that it was like a dull roar that refused to fade, like the sea pounding a distant cliff.

She shut the carved ebony door behind her and leaned against it, her breath catching in the sudden silence.

Her attendants hovered, wide-eyed and whispering.

“Leave me,” she ordered. Her voice carried the calm of a frozen lake – smooth, unbreakable.

The attendants bowed and vanished from her private rooms.

Only when the sound of sandals scuffing against the marble was gone did Cassara allow her shoulders to slump.

The young Empress crossed her rooms. Her fingers dug into the cold stone of the window ledge as she stared out over the Arena, where the banners promoting The Game snapped restlessly in the wind.

Aureyne.

The name of her lover burned through her like a forbidden prayer.

Cassara pressed a palm to her chest, feeling the frantic flutter of her own heart. She had imagined this moment a thousand ways: a secret smile during a festival, a stolen letter, or even making true on her promise to make Aureyne her concubine, only to be allowed in her lover's safe embrace.

But never this.

Never Aureyne walking into The Game like a blade thrown at the Gods.

“You fool,” Cassara whispered to the empty chamber. Her eyes burned, and her lips tasted salty from the silent tears streaming down her face.

“She’ll die for this ambition of hers.”

Her mind – trained to slice through chaos – began to calculate even as her heart drowned in panic.

Aureyne was skilled, yes. Brilliant even. But The Game devoured the strong and cunning alike.

Even if she survived the trials, the council would never allow a woman to win.

Unless…

Cassara’s grip tightened on the window frame.

Unless the Empress became the storm her people feared she might be.

Memory slipped through her like a tide: the meadow of their childhood, Aureyne’s small hand clutching hers, the fierce promise whispered against the summer wind.

I’ll fight. I’ll win. And then I’ll marry you.

Seven years old and already unyielding.

Cassara closed her eyes. She could almost feel Aureyne’s presence again – the steady warmth of a heartbeat beside her own, the scent of the ocean that was entirely Aureyne.

“If you meant that promise…” her voice cracked, soft and aching. “Then I must be the one to protect you. Even from The Game itself.”

Cassara straightened her back and let the Empress façade return to her bones.

Her heart belonged to Aureyne.

Her mind belonged to the Throne.

Both would have to fight.

~*~

The palace corridors lay hushed under a veil of moonlight. Empress Cassara moved like a shadow; the hood of her black cloak hid her face in its shadows. Each step toward the wing reserved solely for the competitors of The Game sent a pulse of defiance through her veins.

An Empress does not sneak. An Empress commands.

But tonight she crept like a thief.

She reached out to the latch separating her from Aureyne. Her heart beat hot and frantic in her chest. For a breath, she let herself feel it – the terror that had stalked her since Aureyne’s name thundered across the Arena.

She could die. They could take her from her before she ever–

Cassara forced the thought down, drawing composure around herself like armor.

The door opened without a sound.

Inside, the chamber smelled faintly like the saltiness of the ocean – Aureyne’s comforting scent.

Aureyne stood barefoot by the narrow cot pushed against the back wall. Her honey blonde, shoulder-length hair loose around her shoulders, moonlight glinting against the gentle stream of water she was manipulating to move between her calloused fingers. She turned at one, cerulean blue eyes narrowing – then widening when she saw who entered.

“Cassara?” Aureyne’s voice was a low tide, soft and dangerous. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Cassara shut the door and slid the bolt with a quiet click. Her face was a mask of serene authority, but Aureyne knew that stillness too well. Behind it, a storm raged.

“You plan to fight next week,” Cassara said evenly. It was not a question.

Aureyne tilted her head, reading the tremor hidden in her lover’s posture – the faint tightening of her jaw, the way her breath shivered though her dark eyes stayed cold.

“Of course. That’s why I’m here.”

“You will be killed.”

The words escaped before Cassara could leash them. A single crack in her marble composure. She pressed her lips together, shoulders stiffening. “I mean… the odds are against you.”

Aureyne stepped closer. “Do you think odds have ever stopped me?”

Cassara’s control frayed another inch. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she whispered, voice raw despite her poise.

Aureyne reached out, fingertips brushing Cassara’s cheek. The touch undid the last knot of composure. Cassara’s eyes shimmered, fury and love tangled in the dark.

“I told you,” Aureyne said, voice steady as the rising tide. “I was never meant to bow. Not to men. Not to their rules. Only to you.”

Cassara swallowed hard, every inch of her training screaming to step back. Instead, she leaned into the touch, just enough for Aureyne to feel the tremor beneath her skin.

“You’re going to break the world.”

“Then let it break,” Aureyne murmured. “As long as you’re there when the pieces fall.”

The world could rage and bleed. But Aureyne was the tide. And the tide always rises.

~*~

The arena floor shimmered with heat, the midday sun hammering down like a forge. Dust and blood scented the air. The scents thick enough to taste. After weeks of bloodshed and lives lost, secret strategies, and a political chess matches played behind the scenes – all secretly orchestrated by the Empress herself, to support the woman of her heart – the moment was here. The Finale of The Game

Empress Cassara Moonpetal sat beneath the imperial canopy overlooking the Arena. She gripped the carved arms of her throne so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Below, Aureyne – her Aureyne – moved like a living current, water swirling around her as she faced her final opponent, Kaedor, the Empire’s undefeated champion, a giant of muscle and scarred steel. His blade – that had struck down multiple opponents without remorse – gleamed in the radiant sun.

The Empress' thoughts wandered to how they came to be at this moment in time. A childhood promise now moments away from being fulfilled, or a dream to shatter into ash.

The gong struck.

Kaedor charged with a roar, his sword a flash of silver death.

Aureyne slid aside, water streaming from her palms to form a sudden wall that hissed against his strike. The crowd gasped as steel met liquid.

Cassara’s heart pounded.

Every motion below felt both eternal and too swift to follow.

Aureyne ducked, spun, countered – each movement a dance between grace and desperation.

But Kaedor was relentless.

A brutal kick sent her sprawling, blood blooming across the sand.

Cassara rose half out of her seat. Her attendants reached to restrain her, but she shook them off, eyes locked on the woman below.

Get up, Aureyne. Please… get up.

Aureyne staggered upright, breath ragged. Blood streaked her ribs, soaking into the deep blue of her tunic. Kaedor advanced, sword raised for the final strike.

Another slash–

Aureyne twisted, but the blade found her side, carving a cruel red smile across her ribs.

She crumpled, one knee sinking into the sand.

The crowd erupted in a single, deafening cheer.

It was over.

Even the council began to rise, already preparing to declare Kaedor victorious. Keador lowered his sword and turned his back.

Silently, Empress Cassara despaired.

Every muscle of her body trembling, her breath coming out in panicked breaths. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not like this. All she saw was the blood streaming freely from Aureyne’s side.

Their eyes met.

Get up, my love. Get up.

And then the tide turned.

With a surge of impossible strength, Aureyne rolled to her feet. Water erupted from the cracked earth at her feet, a razor arc that sang as it sliced through the air.

Before Kaedor could react, her blade of water struck true.

Kaedor’s eyes widened. A single heartbeat of stunned silence – then he fell, lifeless, to the blood-stained sand.

The Arena froze.

Not a sound. Not a breath. Even the wind seemed to hold its tongue.

Then – a roar like thunder. The stands erupted, a tidal wave of disbelief and awe crashing against centuries of tradition.

The Empress was already moving.

She didn’t remember rising, didn’t hear the frantic protests of her attendants. All she knew was the pounding of her own heart as she sprinted down the grand steps, the silks of her dress snapping behind her like banners of war.

The gates to the Arena loomed, and then she was through them, feet hitting the sand. Dust swirled around her as Aureyne turned.

Their eyes met.

Aureyne was barely standing, blood steadily dripping out of the gash in her side, but still, her lips curved into a blood-streaked smirk. Exhaustion and triumph warring in her expression.

“I told you,” she rasped, voice raw but steady, “that I would win The Game for you.”

Cassara reached her in three strides, the roar of the crowd fading to nothing. She caught Aureyne’s face in her hands, eyes shining with everything she could not say before the Empire.

Then, Aureyne sank to her knees before her. No, she wasn’t kneeling, she was bowing.

“I was never meant to bow,” Aureyne’s steady voice carried through the air. “Not for them. Only for you.”

The tide had risen. And Cassara knew, with a fierce clarity that burned through fear, that she would never let Aureyne stand alone again.

Here, for all to see, her Aureyne had claimed the right to stand beside her – not as a shadow, not as a concubine, but as the equal she had vowed to be since the day they were children.