Serpent Emperor's Bride-Chapter 137: A Sister’s Sin

[Imperial Palace — Guest Chamber — Earlier That Night]

The corridors were quieter here, far from the music, far from the laughter. Only the faint echo of distant celebration lingered—dulled by stone and swallowed by distance.

Zeramet walked ahead, unhurried, yet every step carried weight; behind him were Sharukh and Captain Varesh. They followed him, silent and watchful.

"Is everything prepared?" Zeramet asked, his voice low, effortless, yet absolute.

Varesh bowed his head slightly. "Yes, Malik. Everything has been arranged. We depart at first light."

Zeramet gave a faint nod, no more. The doors to the guest chamber opened, and he entered. The room dimmed to his preference—lamps burning low, their golden light pooling rather than spreading, leaving the corners untouched...claimed by shadow.

Zeramet took his seat upon the couch, one leg crossing over the other. His posture was relaxed but never careless.

From the low table beside him, he lifted the pipe, took a slow inhale, and then he exhaled. Smoke slipped from his lips like something alive, coiling upward, dissolving into the stillness.

Sharukh and Varesh remained standing at a distance. They knew better than to disturb silence when their Malik chose it.

"What of Lady Samhira’s body?" Zeramet asked after a moment, his gaze unfocused—yet listening.

Sharukh stepped forward slightly. "It has been sent to Zahryssar, Malik. By now... she would have been laid to rest."

"Good."

Silence returned, heavy and measured. And then—"I greet the Malik of Zahryssar."

The voice entered before the presence; all three turned. At the entrance—Aelira. She stood poised, head lowered in a deliberate bow...yet the angle of it revealed more than it concealed.

Not respect but a display.

Varesh’s expression hardened instantly.

’What is she doing here...?’

He stepped forward as his tone sharpened, controlled but firm. "Lady Aelira, the Malik is resting. You should not be here, so please leave."

She did not look at him, not even once. Her gaze slid past him as though he did not exist. As though he were beneath notice.

Then she stepped inside, and she began with her voice soft—too soft—her smile perfectly placed. "I apologize, Malik..."

Zeramet did not move; he smoked and watched with a cold, expressionless face.

"It has been long since we last met," she continued, drawing closer, each step measured. "So I thought... it would be appropriate to greet you properly."

The pipe paused between Zeramet’s fingers.

"And..." she added, her tone lowering, "to apologize."

Zeramet’s gaze lifted fully now.

"And when," he asked, voice calm—too calm, "did I express any desire to see you, Lady Aelira?"

The words landed harshly and straightforwardly. Aelira flinched only slightly, but she recovered quickly.

"I know you must be displeased," she said, stepping closer still. "For coming to Zahryssar... unannounced, but I am here now... to correct that mistake."

She stepped closer, her voice softened further, "So please, Malik...forgive me."

Zeramet inhaled once more and exhaled, then, "...Very well. I forgive you."

Aelira’s face lit instantly bright and radiant.

Too bright.

"I knew it," she said, almost breathless as she closed the distance completely, sitting beside him without permission. "I knew you would not remain angry with me."

Sharukh and Varesh moved instantly to drag her away from Zeramet, but Zeramet lifted his hand, and they froze.

Aelira smiled wider and encouraged her.

"I knew," she continued softly, leaning closer, "that someone like you would never truly ignore me...not for long."

Her eyes traced him, bold and unhidden.

Silence.

Zeramet took another slow drag from the pipe, then—

"...Lady Aelira." Her name rolled from his tongue, low and measured. "Do you know...what becomes of those who mistake indulgence for permission?"

Aelira tilted her head slightly, confused. Zeramet turned and looked at her fully. Not as a man looks, but as something else entirely.

Cold, ancient, and unforgiving. A faint smile touched his lips, dangerous as he leaned very close to her.

And then—GRAB!

His hand closed around her throat, instant and violent. Aelira’s breath shattered. Her body jerked, fingers clawing at his wrist as her eyes widened in shock.

"W—what—"

Zeramet did not rise; he remained seated, and still, he held her as though she weighed nothing and he continued saying, "They die."

The words were quiet but absolute. His grip tightened, and Aelira choked. Her breath hitched, and her body trembled violently as panic overtook her.

"You presume," Zeramet continued, his voice lowering further, "that your presence holds value here."

Her nails dug into his skin, desperate.

"Leave. Leave me. You should not do—" Her voice broke.

Zeramet’s eyes darkened, and then—THROW—!!

Her body was hurled across the room, and she hit the ground hard—air knocked from her lungs as she coughed violently, struggling to breathe.

Sharukh stiffened. Varesh stepped forward instinctively.

Zeramet rose slowly, and with that single movement the room changed.The warmth died, the shadows deepened, and something far more oppressive began to seep into the air. Not fully unleashed, not yet, but enough to suffocate and enough to remind. He stepped toward her, each step deliberate and measured. Until he stood above her, looking down.

Not as a man but as judgment.

"The ones," Zeramet began, his voice low—dragging something ancient behind it, "who forget their place...and begin to believe they are owed something from me they all...die. That is the only punishment for daring to cross me."

The word settled final. Aelira’s body trembled beneath him, her breath uneven, her fingers curled weakly against the floor.

Zeramet continued, his tone shifting—not softer, not kinder, but colder, "But you are spared."

A faint tilt of his head.

"Not because you hold value. But because... my consort does."

Silence.

"If not for him..." Zeramet’s voice lowered further, "your head would have fallen the moment you set foot in Zahryssar alone."

Aelira’s breathing hitched, for a moment—Just a moment—Fear touched her, and then, It twisted Into something else, something broken and something delusional.

A faint laugh escaped her, breathless and unstable.

"No..." she whispered, shaking her head slowly, even as her body trembled beneath his presence. "No... that is not possible..."

Her eyes lifted wide and too bright.

"There is no world," she said, her voice rising, "where someone like you... would love someone like him."

Varesh and Sharukh exchanged a glance, because they understood, his was crossing beyond reason.

"An average Alpha..." Aelira continued, her lips curling faintly, "What could he possibly give you?"

Her hand lifted slightly reaching to him.

"Look at me..." she said, almost pleading now, almost desperate. "I have everything. Beauty. Position. Power...I am the one who should stand beside you, not him."

An heavy silence.

Zeramet did not move, but something shifted.

"Take her out." The command came low and final. "I won’t hold back from seperating her head from that worthless body of hers."

Varesh stepped forward, but Aelira moved faster grabbing his leg, clinging and desperate.

"No—! Malik—you cannot—!" Her voice broke. "You cannot cast me aside!"

Her grip tightened.

"I was chosen for you—!" she cried. "Father chose me first—not him!"

The words spiraled now uncontrolled.

"Brother was never meant for you, it was me. Always me, but...but he always takes everything from me!" she continued, her voice cracking, unraveling. "The heir position—Mother’s love—everything—!"

Her breath hitched violently.

"He should have been the one to die—!"

The room went still.

Too still. Even the shadows seemed to stop moving. Zeramet’s eyes darkened.

Sharukh felt it first that shift, that edge, and then—Aelira spoke again.

"I am telling you, Malik—" her voice trembled, but she forced it out, "you should kill him. He is lying—about everything—"

A breath.

"...even about being pregnant."

Varesh froze. Sharukh’s head snapped toward her. Aelira’s lips trembled into something that resembled a smile.

"How could he be?" she continued, faster now, desperate to prove herself right. "How could an Alpha who claims carrying children fight assassins alone?"

A pause, and then—Zeramet did not move.

"...What did you say?"

His voice was no longer human. It was cold. Colder than death. Aelira swallowed, but nodded.

"Yes..." she said, quieter now. "The serpents who came to kill him... I allowed them through."

A breath.

"Even though they failed, it proves that he is not carrying any child. But that is not the point. The Point is—"

That was it when the world broke, not loudly but absolutely and then....A force—Invisible force struck her hard.

STRUCK.

STAB—!!!

Aelira’s body arched violently. A silent scream tore from her throat real and raw. Her back bent unnaturally her breath shattered—as if something had pierced straight through her.

Not steel but will of power, dominance and Pheronmones.

Varesh dropped to his knees. Sharukh followed instantly—Their bodies unable to withstand what flooded the room.

THUD!!!!

Because Zeramet was no longer holding back his form shifted, bones, scale and power expanding and unfolding.

A massive silver serpent erupted into the chamber, coils spreading scales gleaming like blades beneath dying light golden eyes blazing with something beyond fury.

Something ancient and something absolute. The black lotus pheromones exploded outward—Violent, crushing and unforgiving.

Aelira collapsed fully, her body trembling uncontrollably, her breath no longer her own.

Zeramet’s voice rose like a monster.

"YOU—" The chamber shook, the walls trembled and the air itself felt like screamed, "DARED TO HARM MY CONSORT AND MY CHILDREN."

The pressure increased enough to break bone, Enough to crush life—

"HOW DARE YOU" His voice dropped lower and more dangerous. "a mere human creature...touch what belongs to me."

Aelira could not respond, she could not breathe, she could only tremble, because now she understood too late. She had not challenged a man, she had awakened—a king.

No a monster.

***

[The Present Time — Continuation]

The chamber trembled in silence, glass lay shattered across the floor. The tall windows—broken, a mark of his tail.

Of his fury.

Levin stepped inside fully and the air hit him like a wall, heavy and crushing. Even for him, as his mate—It was too much. His breath faltered Just slightly.

’...This is too much...’

But he did not stop, he moved forward, past Varesh and past Sharukh and past Aelira who still trembled on the ground, her body barely holding itself together.

Levin did not look at her for long.

Then he stepped forward, toward him, toward the storm.Zeramet towered above all—massive, coiled, his silver form filling the chamber like something carved from myth and wrath.

His golden eyes still locked on Aelira, still burning and still ready to kill. Levin stopped beneath him and looked up.

And for a moment he said nothing.

Then slowly his hand lifted, and rested against cold silver scales. The contact was gentle, but it did not go unnoticed.

"Zer..." His voice was soft, calling him.

Zeramet did not respond, the fury remained, unmoved and unbroken. Levin’s fingers pressed slightly, a slow, grounding touch.

"Zer...you need to calm down." A soft stroke across the curve of his scales, steady and certain. "You do not wish to harm them...do you?"

Silence.

Then something shifted. Zeramet’s pupils narrowed, slowly his gaze broke from Aelira and lowered to Levin and then he glanced at his stomach.

Their eyes met. Gold and blue.

Fury and anchor.

Zeramet did not change form, he did not shrink, he did not soften either, but the storm faltered. The black lotus pheromones receded.

Not gone just restrained and held back for his family.

Now the room could breathe again and behind them Aelira gasped. Air rushed back into her lungs, violent and desperate.

"B-Brother—" Her voice broke, "...Brother—!"

Levin did not turn immediately but when he did his expression had changed into cold, sharp and unforgiving.

Aelira reached toward him shaking.

"...Brother—" her voice trembled, fragile now, as though nothing had happened, as though she had not spoken those words, done those things, "Brother-in-law... he...he is trying to kill me."

The Silence fell heavy and absolute.