The night wind howled sharply atop the tower of Astreva Castle. Below, the city shimmered dimly under the glow of a thousand torches.

You stood frozen before a large mirror, clad in a shimmering white wedding gown that felt more like a prison. Beyond the heavy door, the maids whispered, avoiding your gaze as if you had already become a ghost before your time.

Today, you would marry Duke Avelric of the Kingdom of Althar—your sworn enemy. A political marriage. A sacred bond meant to end the bloodshed.

The door creaked open. A soldier in silver armor gave a stiff nod.

"Your Highness, it is time."

You drew a deep breath, holding back the tears threatening to fall. Outside, the sound of trumpets filled the air, escorting you toward the stone altar in the castle gardens, bathed under the cold light of the moon.

And there he stood.

Duke Avelric.

Tall, with golden blond hair falling neatly yet slightly disheveled, and golden eyes. He wore a deep blue cloak embroidered with gold, the sapphire emblem of his kingdom gleaming on his shoulder—like a war hero and a conqueror of fate all at once.

As you approached, he extended his hand. There was a faint warmth there, contradicting everything you believed.

"Princess," his voice was heavy, as if he too was tormented by this vow, "with this, I take you as my wife, for the kingdom... and for our destiny."

You held your breath. Every word felt like a new chain binding your soul.

But when you met his eyes, you saw something else—not just coldness and duty. There was a deep, aching guilt.

The ceremony was carried out in suffocating silence. When Avelric slipped the ring onto your finger, your hand trembled.

"From this night forward," he whispered, "I am your enemy... and your protector."

You stared at him sharply. "Don’t think I will surrender to you so easily, Duke."

His lips curved slightly—a thin, bitter smile. "I wouldn’t expect it, Princess."

That night, in your wedding chamber, the tension was thick enough to cut through.

Avelric sat in a chair by the corner, removing his gloves with slow movements. You remained standing at the doorway, still wrapped in your wedding dress.

"You hate me," he said flatly, staring out the window. "Just as your people hate my kingdom."

You lifted your chin. "For very good reason."

He let out a weary breath. "Believe me, Princess, if I could refuse this... I would have."

You stayed silent. His words cut deeper than any mockery.

"What do you want from me, Duke?"* you finally asked.

He rose slowly, heavy steps bringing him closer. For a moment, you thought he might strike you—but he stopped just inches away.

"I want no more war," he said in a low voice. "I want no more killing. I want a world where our children don’t grow up in blood."

Children.

The word struck you like a bolt of lightning.

"I know I am undeserving," he continued, voice barely a whisper. "But if you allow it... I want to be a husband who doesn’t make you cry every night."

You turned away, struggling to hold back your tears. You could not hand over your heart so easily—not after everything his kingdom had taken from your land.