He laughs and snuggles her and falls asleep that way, wrapped around her like a blanket.

It's... cute. It is unsettling that it's cute, but the fact remains.

And who the fuck cares how unsettling it is that the Emperor treats her like something between a lover and a cherished pet? Better by far than any other way he might conceivably treat her.

He sleeps very soundly.

In the morning, he wakes up and she's right there in his arms and he just holds her for a minute, delighted by her warmth and solidity. All of this belongs to him. Her gorgeous long curly hair, her warm soft skin, the flutter of her pulse, the steady rhythm of her breath. His, his, his. And he is never letting go.

He gets up, eventually. He considers where he would like to put his Niamira's new room. There are a few rooms in his suite that he doesn't use often. He picks one with a nice view that he hasn't touched in ten years because it's mostly old furniture.

Portalmaking is one of the most advanced skills of glamourcraft. If you get anything even slightly wrong in your vision of the place at the other end of your portal, everything you send through it will be destroyed without a trace when the portal closes.

Of course, if all you want is to get rid of a roomful of expensive furniture from several centuries ago, then you can just turn the entire floor into a portal to an empty space swirling with coloured lights, send a gust of wind around to knock the curtains from the windows and the tapestries from the walls, wait for everything to fall through, and then close the portal and be rid of it.

He does that. He regards the newly empty room.

Illusory decor takes shape, and shifts and changes until he's satisfied with the result. A complex spiral of lights strung across the ceiling like dewdrops on an abstract spiderweb; pretty fabrics hanging on the walls; a double set of curtains on the windows, light and dark; a magnificent bed; an even more magnificent desk. She said she wanted calligraphy supplies. He doesn't know enough about calligraphy to create them for her, so he sends for some.

Then he goes off to get some work done, leaving a conjured breakfast next to his bed for whenever she wakes up.

She wakes late. Yesterday was a very tiring day.

...that's breakfast. He left her breakfast.

And -

It doesn't take a genius to figure out which room is supposed to be hers.

She goes in and stands at the window and looks out on the rest of the palace. It's... she hardly knows what to do with it. It's sweet. The Emperor is being sweet to her.

She eats her breakfast and curls up in her lovely new bed and naps for no reason except that she has nothing better to do.

The Emperor wakes her at noon by scooping her out of bed and kissing her.

"You have calligraphy supplies," he says, setting her down so she can see her newly-stocked desk.

"It's beautiful," she says, staring.

Oh, that smile. Oh, that smile is - he wants to pin her to a wall and fuck her senseless, he wants to pick her up and kiss her, he wants to make her smile like that a hundred more times, he wants -

"I'm glad you like it," he says softly.

She turns and beams at him.

He can't help smiling back.

Impulsively, she hugs him.

"Thank you, my lord."

He scoops her up and holds her in his arms and pets her hair.

"You know," he says, "I believe I planned to torture you last night."

"I think I distracted you."

He laughs.

"That you did," he agrees. "Mmmmmm." He kisses the top of her head. "And will you distract me again this time, I wonder?"

"I hope not."

"You are a treasure."

He carries her to another of the rooms in his suite. This one sees much more frequent use. It's empty, of course; otherwise it would get annoying to clean.

Elaborate patterns of tiny lights spread across the high ceiling and down the bare walls. The floor grows a layer of white marble tile. He hums thoughtfully, sets his Niamira down on her feet, pets her hair while he thinks.

"Oh," she says, staring at the suddenly-decorated room in stunned realization. "You can do - anything you can imagine."

"Yes I can."

Pet pet.

"If you've ever asked me for something you didn't really want because you thought I couldn't do it, now is the time to start having regrets."

"Regret is not the feeling I'm having."

He laughs. "Slut," he says affectionately.

"Are you going to make me say I'm a filthy slut who loves to be raped?"

He kisses her.

"You are a radiantly beautiful slut who loves to be raped."

"Flatterer."

Giggling, he kisses her again and wraps a hand around her throat.

He's so in love with her and he has no idea, none at all...

She relaxes, leaning on him. Being strangled is pleasantly thrilling. She doesn't for a moment believe he's going to kill her, but the instincts of the body don't care what she believes. It's lovely.

She's lovely.

"I liked watching them rape you," he murmurs. "I should make it public entertainment sometime. You'd hate that. I could build a stage out in the gardens. Lots of lovely toys. Everyone could come watch you beg to be fucked. I could tie you down and let anyone who wanted have a turn."

He lets go so she can breathe.

"Or better yet, I could not tie you down. You were so good yesterday. I want you to be good like that today. No fighting."