POV: Christiana Blackwood —
I stood before the massive windows in the royal palace, my gaze fixed on the horizon. The city sprawled beneath me, the empire I had helped shape, but also the empire I was being forced to command under the iron fist of a man who seemed more myth than reality. Chris Blackwood, the king, the father, the God of the Blackwood Empire.
But today, I wasn't the dutiful daughter, obedient to his every whim. No, today, I was confronting him as an equal, as a ruler who had earned her place.
I turned, the long cloak I wore swishing behind me. My steps were measured, purposeful, echoing on the polished marble floor as I walked toward the throne room. The air felt charged, heavy with unspoken words. My guards remained outside, knowing this was a conversation for the king and his daughter, no one else.
When I entered the throne room, I saw him. My father, sitting upon the throne, his posture stiff, his face as unreadable as ever. His eyes were sharp, but there was a flicker of something in them—a depth that I knew all too well. The power he commanded was like an unspoken threat, his very presence a suffocating force.
But I would not bend. Not today.
"You summoned me?" I asked, my voice steady, unwavering.
Chris didn't move, didn't react. He only stared, his gaze cold as always. "Christiana," he said, his voice low, as if testing the air, weighing my worth. "I did. You've been... too quiet for my liking."
I took a step forward, feeling the weight of his words press on me, but I refused to flinch. "You've been too silent for my liking. Always behind the scenes, always pulling the strings without consulting anyone. Not even me, your daughter, who has a claim to this throne, who has helped build this empire."
His eyes narrowed. "You think I don't consult you? You think I don't give you tasks? You have your place, Christiana."
"My place?" I repeated, my tone sharp. "Do you truly believe you've been fair, Father? You gave me the title of Dictator, yet you continue to rule as if I'm still just your daughter. You sideline me when it suits you. And now, you want to impose taxes on the people, but you want my opinion on what parts of the empire? I don't need your permission to speak, Father. I've earned the right to make decisions, not just follow orders."
There was silence between us, thick and uncomfortable. I could feel his presence, but I refused to let it break me. I had spent years building my strength, honing my resolve, watching as my father dictated every aspect of our empire. I had helped raise this empire with my own hands, not as his daughter, but as a leader in my own right.
Chris finally spoke, his voice quieter, almost a growl. "And you think I don't know that? You've earned your place. But you forget that I am the one who built this empire. I'm the one who gave you the power you wield. I can take it back whenever I choose."
I stepped closer to him, my heart racing, but my mind steady. "You may have built this empire, Father, but I've helped build it into something greater. Your control over everything, your god-like power—it's wearing thin. You can't keep pretending that everything is just fine. You can't keep using me like a pawn in your games. I am not just your daughter. I am the Dictator of the Blackwood Empire, and it's time you recognize that."
The room felt colder, the air thicker. The tension between us was palpable, like a storm waiting to break. Chris rose from his throne, towering over me. But despite the difference in height, I stood my ground.
"You dare challenge me?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"I don't challenge you, Father," I replied, my voice steady, though my blood was boiling. "I stand beside you. But if you think I will simply sit here in the shadows while you make decisions without consulting me, then you are mistaken. I won't allow it."
There was a long silence. My father's face was unreadable, but his eyes were intense, calculating. For a moment, I thought he would snap, that he would remind me who I was. But instead, he just stood there, his gaze never leaving mine.
"You're right," he finally said, his voice softer than before. "You've earned the right to lead. But never forget, Christiana—I am still the king. I am still the one who has the final say."
"And I will remind you of that," I shot back, my voice firm. "But don't forget, Father, that even kings must answer to their people. And I am their Dictator."
The room was thick with tension as Chris stared at me for what felt like an eternity. But then, to my surprise, he nodded once, slowly.
"You may have earned your place, Christiana," he said, his voice cold but almost resigned. "But remember one thing."
"What's that?" I asked, my voice quieter now.
"You're not alone in this. You never will be."
I didn't answer him. There was nothing more to say. I turned and walked out of the throne room, leaving my father behind. This wasn't over—not by a long shot.
But one thing was clear: the Blackwood Empire would no longer be ruled by just one king. It would be ruled by both of us, whether he liked it or not.