I lay on pitch-black satin sheets, hands cuffed to the heavy four-poster bed with a frankly ridiculous amount of chains. My lower body was bare, nakedness barely covered by a fur-trimmed duvet. My pristine white chest was on display, white cotton shirt open all the way to my navel, revealing a slender waist and a hint of abs. Overall, not an unpleasant experience, if not for the screeching harpy clutching a dagger over my neck.

“How dare a lowly war slave seduce your way into the King’s bed!” she howled, dainty features distorted unnaturally, eyes bulging and red. Pretty as a picture, yet absolutely crazy.

“You, a lowly fallen prince of the Elaria kingdom, cannot be with the supreme King Aiden! I am his lawful fiancée, and he will marry me! Now die!”

“Ma’am,” I began, too tired to bother struggling. “I suggest you stop this and just go home.”

She froze for a second, invisible gears turning in that empty head, formulating the next idiotic reply.

“Do you think anyone would come and save you? King Aiden is away on military patrol and won’t be back until sunrise. I have plenty of time to take my time and kill you!”

“Fuck, lady! Will you listen to me!” I was getting pissed off at this point. “I know how this goes! Exactly at the point when you swing the dagger to stab me, he will magically appear at the door, ignore your bullshit excuses and order you to be dragged away.”

She was unnaturally still, hand raised in mid-stab, eyes fixed on me. I reckoned I had at least thirty more seconds before it registered.

“Honestly, I feel for you. Your dick of a fiancée strung you along for years and then tossed you aside for a boy toy. You are rightfully pissed. But killing me is not the way to go about it. How about you strip his political power in court? Sabotage his reputation, painting yourself as a wronged victim? Have him deposed and take the throne yourself? You go, girl; you don't need a man!”

Whatever was processing its way through her head had finished buffering as she leaned back and laughed.

“Trying to buy yourself time? It won’t work.”

“I figured it wouldn’t,” I mumbled under my breath and flopped back on the sheets. “Don’t blame me for not warning you. But who am I kidding? Of course you will.”

The dagger flashed in a beam of moonlight, somehow appearing in this pitch-dark room with shuttered windows, and plunged down towards my chest. At that exact moment, the door to the bedroom exploded. I’m not exaggerating. It literally exploded, not fell off its hinges or swung open. I even got some splinters stuck in my hair.

On the other end stood King Aiden. Tall, dark, handsome, chiselled jaw, the whole nine yards. Looking eighty per cent like Henry Cavill, but they all did. He marched towards the woman, who crumpled in fear and began to grovel.

“My King! This slut tried to seduce me to obtain state secrets to pass on to his supporters and overthrow you! Please, I beg you, my lord! You must kill him!”

He leaned down towards her, his hand reaching to grip her jaw. After a needlessly long moment, he growled.

“You dare touch what's mine.”

I sighed, ears bleeding from cringe. I thought at that point I would be immune to such unadulterated, pure, hundred per cent Colombian cringe, but alas, I still had some dignity.

“Take her away.” King Cavill growled louder as guards materialised out of thin air. Exactly two of them. They grabbed the woman by each arm and dragged her out, kicking and screaming through the magically restored doors as they shut behind them and locked all on their own.

King Aiden stood up slowly, eyes glaring at little old me, chained and helpless on that massive bed. His hand slowly came up and glided across my torso as he asked menacingly

“Where did she touch you?”

I pulled an arm out of the bundle of chains above me that weren’t actually attached to anything significant to prevent my movement, and picked splinters out of my hair.

“She didn’t have the time. You showed up before I even got to finish a sentence.”

His intent gaze was so glued to me that he completely didn’t see the fact that I was not restrained at all, as I slipped my wrist back into the nest of chains. Whether I had my hands free or not had no meaning here; I might as well play along.

“Do not lie to me, Julian,” he whispered as the lighting changed abruptly in the room to a hazy purple glow and slow drum beat music played out of fucking nowhere. His hands were liberally stroking my sides, making me feel ticklish. I was biting my lip, trying not to cackle. He smiled up at me sensually, thinking I was getting into it.

“Only I get to touch you. You are mine.”

“Dude, we established that.” I couldn’t stop myself from sighing as I looked up at the dark canopy. Any second now, the tell-tale freeze-frame would hit along with those goddamn sparkles, indicating that the episode was over. I’d wake up in a completely different location, possibly unrelated to this plotline, and this bullshit would start all over again. The never-ending river of slop.

Hey. You must be wondering how I got here. Where is here, you might ask? Oh, just the never-ending tsunami of BL AI slop short drama reels, of course. My personal Hell.