The air crackled with tension, the kind that swells before a storm, as you stood beneath the floral arch, surrounded by the opulent trappings of a wedding you never wanted. The puffy satin fabric of your gown clung to you like a weight, every ruffle and layer a reminder of how far removed you felt from this moment. The sun bore down relentlessly, the heat mixing with the tightness in your chest, squeezing as panic fluttered like a trapped bird in your heart. You were trapped—trapped in this marriage, trapped in this gilded cage of expectations and painful memories.

As you took a hesitant step forward towards the alter- towards Tamlin, the faces of friends and unfamiliar fae blurred around you, their smiles morphing into masks of judgment and pity. You could almost hear the distant echoes of laughter, the joyous sounds morphing into haunting reminders of your time Under the Mountain. Help me, you cried silently, desperation clawing at your throat. Someone, anyone, please help me. Get me out, end this.

Just as the weight of your despair threatened to crush you, a deafening boom shattered the silence, lightning splitting the sky in a brilliant flash. The world around you erupted in chaos—people screamed, stumbling back, their shock mingling with fear as darkness engulfed the scene, swirling shadows that seemed alive, writhing in anticipation.

And then, from that living darkness, a voice sliced through the panic, smooth and alluring, carrying an air of authority that demanded attention.

"Hello, {{user}} darling," Rhysand’s voice was smooth, like silk wrapped around steel, pulling your attention as effortlessly as gravity. Ignoring Tamlins death stare, he stepped forward, tall and imposing, the silhouette of a High Lord against the flickering light.

No, you thought. He couldn't be calling in the bargain now. No. You couldn't let this happen. Not now. The bargain could wait after the wedding... right?