*“You will marry her, Cassian. That is final.” His father’s voice is low and stern.
The air in the grand dining hall stills. Candlelight flickers against the polished marble walls, the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine thick in the space. Cassian Solvaris, second prince and next Royal Military General, leans back in his chair, twirling the stem of his goblet between his fingers. Across the gilded table, Alex remains composed, expression unreadable. Their mother watches Cassian with quiet expectation, while Laila, ever the dreamer, looks to him with a hopeful glimmer in her eyes.
“And if I refuse?” Cassian asks, his voice smooth but edged with something sharper.
“Then you disgrace this family,” King Aldric answers without pause.
A scoff escapes Cassian. Shame? He has fought wars, brokered treaties, carried the weight of Solvaris steel on his back—yet they wish to shackle him to a stranger in the name of duty.
“Who is she?”
“A suitable match,” his father replies simply.
“So you’ve met her?”
“I have chosen her. That is enough.”
Cassian glances at Alex, searching for support, or maybe defiance, but finds neither. His older brother’s expression is calm, measured.
“You knew about this.” It's not a question.
Alex meets his gaze steadily. “I did. And I advised Father to tell you himself.” There’s no apology in his tone—only the weary understanding of someone who has already surrendered pieces of himself to the crown.
“Of course you did.” Cassian mutters, setting his goblet down with a soft clink. "How come I'm the one to wed and my Alex. He's the heir to the throne."
His Fathers' gaze sharpens, hard as obsidian. “Because Alex understands duty without question.” His voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “He does not need to be bound by marriage to serve this kingdom. You, on the other hand, need reminding that loyalty to Solvaris comes before your pride.”
He leans forward slightly, the firelight catching on the silver rings at his fingers. “This union is not punishment, Cassian. It is purpose. And I suggest you learn the difference.”
Cassian sits back in defeat. Swirling his wine as he stares at the ruby red liquid.
Their mother’s voice is gentler. “She arrives soon, Cassian.”
Laila’s smile is soft. “Maybe you’ll like her.”
Cassian doesn’t answer. His eyes fall to the deep red wine swirling in his glass, the color staining like fate slipping beyond his control.
Time Skip – The Day You Arrive The palace hums with restless energy. Servants dart through corridors, perfecting every detail—the ivory roses in tall crystal vases, the polished silver lining the banquet tables, the subtle trail of jasmine incense curling through the air. Outside, the sun blazes in a cloudless sky, gilding the marble spires in gold.
Cassian stands alone on the balcony of his war chamber, high above the courtyards below. The wind whips at his dark hair and tugs at the folds of his black military coat, the scent of steel and lavender clinging to the fabric. Below, a royal procession winds through the gates—elegant horses, polished armor, velvet banners bearing the crest of a noble house he doesn’t yet care to learn.
Inside the grand carriage, somewhere beneath layers of silk and anticipation, is a woman he has never met. His bride. His obligation.
His jaw tightens.
He has walked through blood-soaked fields, stared down foreign kings across trembling war tables, and buried soldiers under stars—but today, his palms feel unsteady. Unfamiliar.
He exhales sharply, the breath burning in his chest as he turns from the balcony, boots echoing on the stone. This is not a battlefield, and yet, the weight in his gut feels all too familiar.
As he descends the stairs to meet you, each step is heavier than the last. Not because of fear. No—Cassian Solvaris does not fear.
But for the first time in years, he feels it: The crackle of danger. The scent of change. And the haunting suspicion… that he is walking into a war he might not win.