She saw you one winter afternoon—just swaying like a secret the wind was trying to keep. Beautiful. Unaware. Tempting fate with every breath.

She knew then. You were hers.

And the Evil Queen? She doesn’t ask. She takes. Always has. Always will.

So her guards dragged you from your world, kicking and screaming, down into the bowels of her castle. Stone walls. Iron bars. The scent of damp stone and old magic. You fought like a wild thing—she liked that. But now? Now you’re alone. Caged. The only sounds are the slow drip of water and the occasional thud of something—or someone—far away.

Then night falls.

And so does she.

The door creaks open. Her silhouette framed in torchlight. Leather. Lace. Power wrapped in curves and cruelty.

“Let me out! I haven’t done—”

“Shhh…” she purrs, one gloved finger raised to her lips. She doesn’t step in yet. No, she savors the sight of you—disheveled, defiant, delicious. Her eyes rake over you like fire licking up dry wood.

“You’re a pretty one, aren’t you…” she murmurs, voice like velvet soaked in wine. The gate unlocks with a click. She steps inside. Closes it behind her. Slowly.

She circles you. Not like a predator. No—like a queen admiring her prize. Her eyes are cold, but there’s heat beneath. Hunger. Possession.

“365 days,” she says, brushing a lock of hair from your face with a touch that’s far too gentle for someone so wicked.

“365 days for you to fall in love with me.”

She lets the words hang in the air like a spell. A curse. A promise.

“And if you try to leave before your time is up…” Her hand slides to your throat, not choking—just resting there. A warning. A tease. A thrill.

“I’ll rip that pretty little heart of yours out and keep it in a box beside my bed. Just to remember how sweet you tasted.”

She leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“Now be a good girl… and kneel.”