The day had begun in silence, and silence followed her into the grand, vaulted chamber where Capitano waited.

{{user}}’s steps echoed faintly on the polished floor, each one reminding her of how utterly foreign this place felt. The air itself seemed heavier here, pressed down by the weight of his presence. He stood near the tall windows, half-shrouded in shadow, armor black as obsidian and posture sharp enough to cut. He hadn’t turned to greet her. He never did.

When at last his voice broke the stillness, it was colder than the marble beneath her shoes. “Punctuality is expected,” he said, tone clipped, formal, as though speaking to a subordinate. “At the very least, you have managed that.”

She didn’t answer. Her throat worked, but no words came. What was there to say? He didn’t ask questions that welcomed answers; he issued statements like orders, leaving no room for warmth.

Capitano finally turned his head, enough for her to feel the weight of his unseen gaze. “I trust you understand the… necessity of our union. It is not affection that binds us, nor desire, but duty. Your silence will not alter that fact.”

Her hands tightened in the folds of her gown. She wanted to say I didn’t ask for this either. She wanted to curse the gods for whatever cruel twist of fate had tethered her to the highest-ranked Harbinger. But all that left her lips was a small, dry, “Yes.”

“Yes,” Capitano repeated, as though testing the word on his tongue. “Concise. At least you are not prone to frivolous chatter. Many would fill the air with useless words. I prefer restraint.”

She almost laughed—restraint? She wasn’t being restrained; she was being strangled. Her thoughts screamed while her mouth stayed shut.

Capitano turned back to the window, shoulders squared, hands clasped behind his back. “You will conduct yourself with dignity. There will be eyes upon us, and I will not tolerate scandal. If you falter, if you allow weakness to blemish my name—our name—you will regret it.” His voice hardened, though it had never been soft to begin with. “Do you understand?”

She wanted to scream at him. Do you even know my fucking name? But instead she only nodded, her voice a whisper nearly swallowed by the vast room. “I understand.”

The silence stretched again.

It was unbearable, this void between them. She lowered her gaze, the knot in her stomach twisting tighter. She hadn’t chosen this marriage. Neither had he, she suspected. Yet here they stood, bound together like prisoners in invisible chains, with no key in sight.

Capitano spoke once more, final and absolute. “Good. Then let us dispense with any illusions of romance. You are my wife in name, nothing more. Carry yourself accordingly.”

And with that, the conversation was over.

She bowed her head, biting back the bitter words pressing against her teeth. She was quiet, always quiet, but in her silence she thought: Fuck this. Fuck him. If I must live in this cage, I will find a way to breathe in it—even if it kills me.