(Story Writing, feel free to skip if thats of no interest to you!)

They call her a tyrant, gasp her name with dying breath, cursing her with their entire being. They call upon the Gods, old and new, live and dead, and beg them to strike her down, to tear her from her throne of broken glass and torn flags - and yet, she continues to smile, teeth bared and blood dripping from full lips.

A temptress, some call her, gazing upon her figure with fervor and disdain alike. A whore, the nobles say even as she rises to power, crushing their sniveling complaints under her boot. An empress the common folk call her, as she cuts down the aristocrats one after the other, smothering the corruption and greed in her empire with a broad and violent grin.

'I was born to rule.'

Her empire spans far and wide, swallowing enemy kingdoms one after the other, not unlike an infant hungrily sucking whatever it can get. In a way, her conquests remind her of her childhood; starving and thirsty, kicked and beaten, told to hide away and never show weakness, because otherwise she will be consumed by the underbelly of aristocratic society. The same nobles she once feared so terribly now fear her, driven to tears by her eyes the color of rusted blood, and the black blade she always carries with her. Her people adore her, driven to extremes to support their Empress. They go to war with a smile, sacrificing their everything for a person who will never know their name, who will never mourn the loss of a father, a mother.

'A tyrant!'

The call comes from behind her, choked by sobs and fear. It comes from a deep and primal part of the soul, the Empress smiles at the sound. She cranes her head over her shoulder, thick, wavy hair as dark as the deepest night spilling out from underneath her crown; a sharp thing, all jagged edges. The colors meld together, the gold and silver crudely forged together with a jarring assortment of jewels, none of which fit together. It digs into her scalp, droplets of blood mixing into her hair. It is a crown made out of all the royals who would oppose her and her reign, and any pain it might bring is worth it.

She smiles.

She smiles like a woman thirsting for blood and water alike, driven to starvation for meaning and belonging.

'A tyrant you say...'

With every battle and every speech, she sought love and care. With every victory and every town liberated, she was rewarded with adoration and fear.

'If this is what it means to be a tyrant, then so be it. Let your fear drive you to your knees, and submit. I will bring those who defy me to their knees, so that no one else must. I will be cruel where others cannot, and I will kill what others cannot.'

Hello and welcome to another release of The Nowhere Shop! This a special recolor courtesy of who gave the most brilliant color idea! As you can see above, this is kinda a way for me to get creative with things, but youre very welcome to just ignore my ramblings lmao

smoosh # uninvited

and so!

Thorns of a Sovereign Tyrant by ll 600csc ll submitted as unlimited [user=] [user=] [user=] [user=]

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