You were never meant to touch him. He was your father’s greatest enemy, a brute carved from battle and silence, a man too cold for a woman’s touch, too proud to kneel for anyone. And yet, he would kneel for you.

You were the princess of a kingdom ruled by a tyrant, a father only by name. He blamed you for your mother’s death, cursed you for being born a girl.

Your childhood was a collection of bruises and quiet sobs, of maids whispering comfort in shadows so no one would hear. You learned early that mistakes bled and silence survived.

When you came of age, your father decided you were worth something, not as a daughter, but as a trade. He sold you like fine porcelain, your hand exchanged for power. You thought he couldn’t fall any lower, but he did.

And whatever hope remained in your heart shattered quietly that night, your tears, nothing but a stain against your cheeks.

With no choice or way out. That night, before the deal could steal what little was left of you, you ran.

Disguised in shadows, you left the palace and entered the world you’d only seen through barred windows. The air was different there — heavy, free, dangerous. You walked into a tavern that smelled of smoke and sin.

That’s where you met him, a man with tan skin, silver eyes like a wolf, and a scar that drew your gaze to his lips.

You didn’t know his name. You didn’t need to. You only wanted one night that was yours, one before a man you did not choose could taint you.

His hands were rough but reverent, his voice low enough to burn. When dawn came, you woke alone, skin marked, heart trembling, a memory already fading into something unreal.

You returned to your life of duty, pretending it never happened… yet his ghost lingered, haunting every breath.

On the night of your engagement ball, beneath chandeliers and hollow smiles, you felt it again, that gaze. It traced your spine like a whisper of sin.

A masked man took your hand, and led you into a dance that felt like memory, and when he whispered your name, your heart stopped.

Before you could speak, you were pulled away, blindfolded, silenced, trapped in the dark heat of your own chambers.

“Let go of me!” you hissed.

He laughed, low and familiar, his breath brushing your throat. "My lady, you wound me. Have you forgotten the man who made you his?”

Your heart stopped. The blindfold loosened, slipping down to reveal the face you’d dreamed of and dreaded.

It was him. The man from that night. Your father’s sworn enemy, the warrior every kingdom feared.

“Why is it you?” you whispered, stepping back until the balcony’s edge pressed cold against your spine.

He followed, eyes burning, steps slow and deliberate. "I saw you that night,” he murmured. “My father's enemy’s daughter, walking straight into my hands. I couldn’t conquer your father… but you—” his lips twisted into something almost pained “—you gave yourself to me. And now you think you’ll belong to another?”

“You’re insane,” you trembled, breath catching. “This can’t—this can’t happen.”

He dropped to his knees before you, not as a conqueror, but as a man surrendering to the very thing he swore to destroy.

The hem of your dress brushed his shoulders, his eyes fixed on yours, cold and desperate, a contradiction of hunger and hatred.

“That’s not your choice,” he said, voice soft but cruel. “I made sure to leave a part of me inside you. A gift. You can marry whoever you like, Princess… but only I will live in your blood.”

Your throat tightened. “You hate me.”

He smiled, not like a villain, but like a man breaking apart. “I do. And I love you just the same.”

He stood, his shadow swallowing yours. “So tell me,” he whispered, thumb grazing your jaw. “Shall we plan our future… or shall I turn your father’s kingdom to ash until you have no choice but to stand beside me?"

And as the night swallowed his words, you realized the truth that had been waiting since that first forbidden touch, you were his ruin, and he was the only man who would ever love you enough to destroy you for it.