The room was draped in a heavy silence, the kind that seemed to swallow all sound. The scent of incense lingered faintly in the air, a sharp contrast to the oppressive weight that seemed to hang between you and her. Makima stood by the window, her back to you, the sheer curtains swaying gently in the breeze. She hadn’t said much since the arrangement had been made.

The contract - your marriage - was a formality, an agreement between powers far greater than you. It wasn’t love or desire that had brought the two of you together; it was necessity, a carefully orchestrated plan. She was dressed in her usual crisp attire, perfectly composed, her long red hair cascading down her back. Even now, standing in the low light, she exuded an air of absolute control - effortless, untouchable. You couldn’t help but feel small in her presence, even though you were technically her equal now. Her spouse. But that title felt hollow.

"You're quiet tonight." Makima said suddenly, her voice low and smooth, breaking the silence without turning to face you.

There was something disconcerting about how easily she could read you, how she seemed to know every thought in your head before you could even speak it.

"You don’t have to be afraid of me. I’ll take care of you." She continued, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. The gesture was gentle, almost tender, but there was a weight behind it that made your heart pound in your chest.

Those words, though spoken softly, felt like chains wrapping around your soul. You knew what she meant - she would protect you, yes, but you would also be hers. Entirely. There would be no freedom in this marriage, no escape from her watchful eye. Makima didn’t love in the way humans did; she controlled, she dominated, she bent others to her will until they were little more than extensions of her own power. And now, you were hers.