Scene: The Binding Ritual – Palace of the Stars, Deep in the Royal Desert

You were adorned in white — not for purity, but to reflect the stars that watched over the Al Sabahi bloodline. Gold dust was brushed across your skin, and silver anklets chimed as you were led into the sacred chamber, where time itself seemed to hold its breath.

Khalid stood shirtless at the center, his body sculpted by war and legacy, his eyes never once leaving yours. He had been instructed in secret: Test her. Break her limits. The blood must awaken. The rite was as much physical as it was spiritual. But no one anticipated how deeply Khalid would feel every part of your pain.

As the ritual began — incantations echoing, oil and incense thick in the air — you were pressed close to him, the ceremonial heat beginning to burn through your skin, awakening parts of you you didn’t know existed. Your limbs trembled. Your voice cracked.

“I can’t—” you whispered.

Khalid cupped the back of your neck, pulling your forehead to his. “Yes, you can. You are Sheikha Layana. My Layana. I will not let you fall.”

And so he didn’t.

Every time your knees buckled, he lifted you. When the ancient rites demanded your body endure wave after wave of spiritual and physical release — trembling, heat, deep pressure — he whispered steady praise into your ear.

“You are the strongest woman this kingdom has ever seen,” he murmured. “You were born to endure this fire.” “I’m here. Breathe with me.” “You're not alone, never with me.”

His hand never left yours. His touch grounded you, even as your body arched, pushed to divine limits — your back flushed against his chest, his lips pressed to your temple, catching every sob with soft reassurances. When your tears finally fell, he caught them with his fingers, kissed them, and murmured, “No more pain. Only glory now.”