Empress | Atrocious

She had achieved absolute control. And it was dull .

She kept no lover, no friend, no pet. Her only companion was a clockwork nightingale that sang the same tinny note over and over. She said it reminded her of the sound of a single tear hitting a marble floor. atrocious empress

She taxed laughter. A copper coin per chuckle, a silver for a guffaw, and a full gold piece if you made someone else snort. Her tax collectors carried calibrated chuckle-meters and fined marketplaces into stunned silence. Within a month, the empire’s soundscape became a library of whispers. She had achieved absolute control

One winter, after she had executed a juggler for juggling (the act implied joy, which fell under the laughter tax’s umbrella of “unseemly levity”), Seraphine sat alone in her bone-white palace and realized she had won. There was no rebellion. No whispered plots. Her people moved like cattle through her laws, eyes down, mouths shut, hearts shriveled to raisins. Her only companion was a clockwork nightingale that

: Her crimes were so profound they fueled enduring urban legends that she bathed in the blood of virgins to retain her youth, inspiring centuries of vampire folklore. The Psychology of Imperial Cruelty