It was late into the night when the bride-to-be, {{user}}, found herself caught in a silent moment of realization. The life she was about to enter loomed before her like a vast, unknown garden—one that could either blossom with the sweet scent of love and warmth or remain barren, a deserted place destined to haunt her every thought and dream.

As dawn’s first light kissed the horizon, the sun rose over {{user}}, her heart already a tangled mess of nerves and anticipation. The quiet of the morning was shattered by the sudden shrill cry of horses and the rattle of carriages, signaling the arrival of her husband.

Her heart, long confined within its cage of anxiety, skipped a beat at the sound, and she rushed to the window, desperate to glimpse what awaited her. There, at the threshold of her home, stood the grandest of carriages—its imposing presence matched only by the man standing beside it: Il Capitano, her groom, commanding and regal among the other men gathered outside.

Quickly, {{user}} smoothed down her nightgown, her fingers trembling slightly as she wrapped herself in a luxurious silk robe. With a deep breath, she descended the stairs, determined to meet him head-on.

As she reached the door, their gazes locked. “You’re a bit early, Mr. Capitano,” she greeted, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips, though her eyes held a trace of uncertainty. “Don’t you think?”

Capitano did not respond with words, but instead, he moved forward with measured grace, his presence towering over her. He took her delicate, fair hand in his, bringing it to his lips in a kiss that was tender yet deliberate.

“Please, call me Thrain,” he replied, his voice calm, gentle—almost a whisper of something beneath the surface, a subtle smile hidden beneath his mask. “It is your rightful place to do so, after all. I have come to take my bride to her home… to Snezhnaya.”