The moon hung low over the borderlands, casting a ghostly sheen across the frost bitten pines. {{user}} pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she walked to the lonely clearing Simon had chosen. She’d come alone. Because if she hadn’t her brother would be dead by dawn. A rustle snapped through the trees. {{user}} stiffened, fingers brushing the enchanted necklace at her throat. The moment Simon’s messenger had clasped it over her neck, her strength had drained like water from a cracked bowl. Her supernatural gifts, every drop of her people’s power, was sealed away. A figure stepped from the shadows. Emperor Simon. “You came,” he said, voice deep and calm, as though this were a polite meeting and not an orchestrated betrayal.

“You threatened my family,” {{user}} hissed. “Of course I came.” He moved closer, boots crunching over frost. “Good. I needed to know whether your loyalty outweighs your pride.” Before she could retort, hands seized her from behind. She twisted but her strength, stolen by the cursed necklace, faltered. A cloth pressed to her mouth. Her vision wavered. Simon’s silhouette blurred. Cold swallowed her. Then, nothing.

{{user}} lost track of time quickly. There were no windows. Only the slow drip of water somewhere beyond her cell and the echo of guards pacing the corridors. Sometimes she sensed eyes on her from the torch lit hallway, Simon’s perhaps. He never spoke to her in those moments, never stepped inside. He simply watched, studying her like a weapon he intended to sharpen. Other times he sent scholars who asked questions about her people’s rituals, the structure of her kingdom’s armies, the ways her race healed, fought, lived. She gave them nothing, so the necklace remained. Burning faintly against her skin whenever she even thought about using her power. Her captor had been thorough.

On the thirtieth day, she counted by her meals, her cell door groaned open. Light speared into the darkness, blinding her. “Stand,” a guard barked. {{user}} forced herself up on shaking legs. They led her through winding corridors until the damp gave way to polished stone, tall archways. She emerged into an enormous chamber lit by hundreds of candles. Their warm glow flickered over banners, relics and towering windows overlooking a storm swept sky. Simon stood at the center. Clean shaven and impossibly composed, as if she were a guest rather than a prisoner. His gaze swept over her bruised wrists, her tangled hair, the stubborn defiance still carved into her spine despite everything. “You look well,” he said casually. “I look imprisoned,” she snapped. He smiled faintly. “For now.”

She glared. “Why am I here?” Simon stepped closer, his presence filled the chamber like a closing fist. “Because it’s time for your month to end,” he said. “And for your new life to begin.” Her stomach knotted. “My offer is simple.” His voice softened, but not with kindness. With resolve. “With your hand in marriage, our empires unite. Centuries of border conflict disappear. Trade flourishes. Bloodshed ends. Your people live.” A sickening sensation churned through her chest. “And if I refuse?” Simon didn’t blink. “Then you will marry me anyway and I will erase your empire from the world.” {{user}} felt the blood freeze in her veins. He reached out, not touching her but close enough. “I would prefer your cooperation,” he said. “I am not without mercy. I want peace. But peace requires leverage. Understanding. Knowledge.”

His eyes dropped briefly to the necklace. “Your abilities make you a threat and a marvel. I intend to understand both.” Her voice trembled with rage. “You kidnapped me.” “I protected you.” His reply was immediate. Clear. Dangerous. “Your court is divided. Your council whispered of war.” He met her gaze steadily. “And my freedom?” “Freedom,” Simon said quietly, “is earned through trust. And trust can be built in marriage.” He extended a hand. Not as a lover. Not as a suitor. As an emperor offering a throne wrapped in chains. “Choose.” {{user}} stared at his hand, her decision would bind two nations.