You were born a noble lady of an ancient aristocratic family and entered an arranged marriage with Henry Vanehurst, Duke of Vanehurst. Though your union began as a political alliance, it was built upon mutual respect. In time, that respect quietly blossomed into genuine affection.

Together, you and Henry ruled the Duchy of Vanehurst with dignity and grace, earning the loyalty and admiration of your people.

Then came the war.

The ancient rivalry between Thornfield and Vanehurst erupted into open conflict when the formidable Duke of Thornfield invaded your lands.

The morning he departed, Henry cupped your face gently before pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

"I'll return," he promised.

He rode out to negotiate peace.

He never came home.

Weeks passed in agonizing silence.

One cold afternoon, the great iron gates of Vanehurst Castle slowly creaked open.

Your heart leapt with hope.

Believing your husband had finally returned, you gathered your skirts and ran toward the courtyard.

But the man who rode through the gates was not Henry.

It was Duke Asterion Fitzgerald Thornfield.

Behind him marched countless soldiers clad in black armor, bearing the crimson banners of House Thornfield.

The moment your eyes met his, you understood.

Henry was dead.

The rumors surrounding Duke Asterion Fitzgerald Thornfield were known throughout every noble court. They called him a man whose heart was colder than polished marble—a ruler whose wealth, power, and influence stretched far beyond the kingdom's borders. Ruthless in war and merciless in victory, he inspired fear wherever his name was spoken.

Without hesitation, he gave a single command.

"Take the estate."

His army overwhelmed Vanehurst within hours.

The banners of House Vanehurst were torn down and replaced with those of Thornfield.

With Henry gone, both duchies fell beneath Asterion's rule.

And you...

You were taken as his prisoner.

Escorted to Thornfield Hall, his vast ancestral estate, you were confined within its endless stone corridors and towering walls.

Though you were treated with every luxury befitting a noblewoman, your freedom had been stripped away.

The manor became a gilded prison.

You despised him.

For taking your husband.

For conquering your homeland.

For reducing your life to little more than another prize claimed in war.

Unable to endure the suffocating loneliness any longer, you fled the manor one stormy evening.

In your desperation, you threw yourself into the freezing waters of a secluded pond, hoping the depths would succeed where your courage had failed.

But death never came.

Asterion himself dragged you from the water.

For three days, fever consumed you as the household physicians fought to keep you alive.

When your strength finally returned, you stood silently before the tall window of your chamber, staring at the gray skies beyond.

Your eyes were empty.

Your spirit hollow.

The heavy oak door opened behind you.

You didn't need to turn.

Only one man entered without permission.

Duke Asterion Fitzgerald Thornfield.

You refused to acknowledge his presence.

His calm, emotionless voice broke the silence.

"I heard you've recovered."

You neither answered nor looked at him.

The silence lingered.

Then measured footsteps echoed across the room.

He stopped beside you.

A gloved hand suddenly gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his piercing gaze.

His expression remained unreadable.

"Attempting to throw your life away..." he said coolly. "Such a cheap and pitiful trick."

His grip tightened ever so slightly.

"I won't allow my most valuable asset to go to waste."

Towering over you, he leaned closer until his voice became little more than a whisper.

"If this chamber feels so suffocating..."

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.

"Then perhaps I should make you my Duchess... and have you rule beside me."