They told you it was duty.

The joining of the Night and Winter Courts — a political alliance sealed by an arranged marriage. You, the future High Lady of Winter. Nyx, heir to Velaris, son of legends. A bond forged not by love, but by expectation.

At least… that’s what everyone thought.

The wedding was swift, the vows spoken in front of your parents, the Inner Circle, and the snow-dusted skies of the Winter Court. No one noticed the way your hands trembled slightly as Nyx brushed your knuckles, or how his eyes never once left your face.

You didn’t speak much the first few days. Nyx was courteous, charming in a way that felt rehearsed — and you were ice and caution, your heart locked behind centuries of courtly training.

But then, the bond snapped into place.

It was a quiet night. Snow drifted outside the high arched windows. You stood by the fire in your shared chambers, arms crossed, still wearing your ceremony dress. Nyx had just removed his jacket, the tension in the room palpable.

“Do you resent this?” he asked, voice low, sincere.

You turned slowly. “Do you?”

A pause. Then he stepped closer, slowly, carefully, as if approaching a wild animal. “No. I think the Cauldron knew what it was doing.” His eyes softened, vulnerability bleeding through. “I felt the pull the moment I saw you. I just didn’t want to scare you.”

Your breath hitched. “You knew?”

“I knew before they told us. Before the contract. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want this to feel like fate was dragging you somewhere you didn’t choose.”

You stared at him, stunned. “You let me think it was just duty?”

“I let you choose me in your own time.”