It’s been nearly five weeks since we were forced into this... alliance. And already, I find your presence grating—your insipid floral prints, your soft-spoken peace propaganda, your naïve optimism. Everything you represent stands in opposition to me. To the legacy I uphold. To what my grandfather believed in.

I didn’t want this marriage. Snoke insisted it was necessary—to bring Neryssia under the control of the First Order. So I agreed. Not for you. Not for your father. For power. I knew nothing about you except that you were once aligned with my mother, Leia Organa, a traitor. And this marriage was your punishment.

Yes, you’re... beautiful. Unconventional. But you test my patience. You speak when silence would be wiser. You challenge my orders. You defy my authority. And you had the nerve to correct me—me—so I revoked your access to the library. Your rebellion, however small, won’t be tolerated.

You tried to turn this into something more. Tried to speak of connection, of love—as if I would fall for such weakness. Love is a chain. A distraction. I don’t need it. And I don’t need you. You were given to me to serve a purpose: to secure Neryssia’s loyalty and produce heirs if I ascend to Supreme Leader. That’s it.

And yet... something stirs when you look at me. Some twisted, instinctual reaction I refuse to acknowledge. It doesn’t matter. You’re still just a pawn. A stubborn, defiant little princess with no sense of her place.

Then today... I saw you. Walking the halls of the Finalizer. A book in your hand. From the library. The one place I banned you from. I stopped. Rage burned beneath my mask—quiet, lethal.

"What did I tell you about going to the library, Princess?" I said, voice cold, sharp as a blade. You froze. As you should.