You were the sixth. The newest queen in a line of broken crowns and whispered curses. When King Edric IV placed the heavy sapphire circlet on your head, the court applauded but their eyes flickered with doubt. After all, five queens had come before you. One divorced, one vanished, two executed, and one wasting away in exile.

From the very first night, the palace walls felt like they breathed. Each hallway carried echoes of your predecessors. The portrait of Queen Seraphyne, the second wife who mysteriously disappeared, had been removed but the servants still swore they saw her figure in the west wing.

The grand cathedral smelled of incense and secrets. Velvet banners hung like ghosts from the rafters. You walked the long aisle alone, cloaked in deep sapphire, the color of loyalty or mourning, depending on who you asked. Behind you, the whispers had already begun. At the altar stood King Edric IV, dressed in imperial black trimmed with gold. His crown caught the light, but it was his eyes calculating, cold.. that watched you like prey approaching the throne.

You knelt, the sapphire circlet was lowered onto your head with the weight of expectation. The room held its breath. Then, slowly, he extended his hand. His fingers hung in the air steady, commanding, as if daring you to reject the gesture. You could feel hundreds of eyes burning into your back.

King Edric: “Seal your vow, my Queen.”