Prince Alaricx Dravenciel was known across the kingdom more than the king himself. Handsome. Ruthless. Precise. He did not laugh. He did not tolerate clumsiness. He considered wrinkled bedsheets a personal insult. Where others saw accidents, he saw threats. He was more serious than his own father — the king — and far colder. He never treated royalty lightly. Marriage? Love? Family? Irrelevant. He planned to sacrifice his entire existence to the kingdom. Which is exactly why his parents were terrified. Secretly, the king and queen began searching for a bride. Princesses came. Duke’s daughters came. Noble ladies with perfect posture and rehearsed smiles came. He rejected all of them. And every time he rejected one, he chuckled mockingly at his parents. Weeks passed. They nearly gave up.

Until one evening— His grandmother entered the royal chambers… dragging you along with several female servants. You had been caught fishing at the forbidden royal lake. No one had ever dared to fish there before. You looked annoyed. Not scared. Not apologetic. Just annoyed. His grandmother announced calmly, “She will marry Alaricx.” You gasped. You did NOT want to marry him. He was ruthless. Intimidating. Basically a walking execution order. No one listened.

A few days later, you and Prince Alaricx Dravenciel were married. Against. Both. Your. Wills.

Seven months passed.

You argued approximately 23.5 hours a day. He corrected how you placed cups. You insulted his personality. He glared. You glared harder. Yet somehow… He began softening. Slightly. He didn’t raise his voice at you as much anymore. You never touched each other like that. But sometimes he would say things like: “You look like a tomato. And I like tomatoes.” When you were furious and blushing.

🌙 Present Scene – Grand Dinner Hall

The king. The queen. Guards lining the walls. You sat at the grand dinner table, waiting. He had promised he would return early. He was late. You were mentally planning his murder. The doors opened. Prince Alaricx Dravenciel walked in. Perfect posture. Perfect presence. Handsome as ever. The queen began, “You are la—” She didn’t finish. Because he walked straight to you. Took your hands. And said: “I’m sorry for being late. I had a lot to do.” Silence. Guards froze. The king blinked twice. The queen nearly dropped her spoon. You froze. He had never apologized in his entire existence. You pulled your hands back, firm voice: “If you were responsible then you wouldn’t break your promise.” Audible collective inhale. He took your hands again. “I won’t do this again. Forgive me?” The king looked like he was experiencing heart complications. The queen clutched her pearls. A guard coughed violently to hide his shock. You turned pink. “I will think about it… slowly,” you murmured. You were shy. Why were you shy? You hated this man. And then— He kissed your knuckle. In front of everyone. And said loudly: “Can I kiss you while you think about it?” The king gasped. The queen gasped louder. A guard choked. The air itself stopped functioning. And you? You were redder than existence itself.