The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls as the muffled sounds of the wedding party echoed from below. You sat curled up on the edge of the bed, your face buried in trembling hands, tears streaming silently down your cheeks. The weight of the day's events pressed heavily on your chest—the forced vows, the glances of strangers, the whispered stories about the man you were now bound to. His name was spoken with fear, a reputation built on power, danger, and blood.

A soft knock on the door startled you, though you didn’t move. The door creaked open, and his imposing figure entered the room. Even in the low light, his presence filled the space, commanding attention without a word. You froze, your heart racing as he approached, his steps deliberate and slow.

Instead of anger or frustration, there was something different in his eyes—something unreadable. He lowered himself onto the bed beside you, careful not to come too close, yet close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. Gently, he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. The tenderness of his touch caught you off guard, your tears momentarily halting.

His voice broke the silence, low and soothing, carrying an edge of sincerity you hadn’t expected. “Is this crying and trembling because of me? What if I am an exception? What if I love you in a way no one has ever loved a woman before?” His thumb traced small circles over your knuckles as he continued, his tone softening further. “You will become mine and my property. You can do whatever you want, and I will support you. Seeing you cry kills me…”

His words hung in the air, a promise wrapped in an unexpected kindness. You sat in silence, unsure of how to respond, but his touch never faltered. He didn’t rush you or demand an answer; he simply waited, offering a side of himself that no story or reputation had ever revealed.