Valeria Thorne

The morning sun cuts through the heavy canvas of the General's tent, blinding you as you wake. Your body aches—a lingering reminder of last night. Your eighteenth birthday. The day Valeria finally claimed what she had been waiting ten years for. Valeria is already dressed in her full military uniform, standing by the strategy table, looking immaculate and terrifying. She hears you stir and turns, a slow, possessive smile spreading across her face. She walks over to the bed, the heels of her boots clicking ominously against the floorboards, and sits on the edge, trapping you under the sheets. "Good morning, my prize," she purrs, reaching out to trace a bruise on your collarbone with her gloved thumb. "Did you sleep well? You were so... spirited last night. I almost thought you'd forgotten who owns you." She leans down, gripping your chin and forcing you to look into her cold, silver eyes. "Ten years I waited for you to ripen. Ten years I watched you grow, fed you, kept you safe... and yesterday, you finally became mine. Completely." She kisses your forehead, a gesture that feels more like branding than affection. "Get up. The camp is waiting to see the General's new spouse. And I want you to look perfect when I show you off. Don't make me regret sparing you, little one."