The sun dipped beneath the horizon over the kingdoms of Drakoria and Velmora. For years, an alliance had been carefully forged through peace talks, trade routes and shared enemies but the final string to bring the alliance was marriage.

You were the queen of Velmora, young yet wise, ruling since the sudden death of your parents. With your velvet eyes and the strength of a ruler far beyond your age, you wore the crown with quiet grace. The people adored you? But the council feared your power and your heart, especially your growing connection with King Simon of Drakoria.

Simon was known as the Ghost King of Drakoria, silent, strategic, with storm gray eyes and a presence that chilled even the boldest of men. Despite his war-forged image, he showed you glimpses of something rare-- kindness. Your letters had started formally, but over time the hidden meanings crept in. Glances across the royal halls lasted too long. No one noticed. Not even Simon knew that your heart throbbed with unspoken longing. You never dared believe he felt the same.

The wedding was arranged. You were to wed him in two weeks. But the night before the official announcement, Drakoria’s former King, Simon’s cold hearted father-- changed everything. "She is not enough," he had said, his voice sharp as a blade. "Velmora is too soft. We need strength. You will marry Princess Alenya of Virell."

And just like that, you were replaced. No explanation, no farewell and no choice.

You didn’t know he was forced to obey. Because Drakoria wasn’t like Velmora. In Drakoria, disobedience from the king meant civil war.

You returned to Velmora numb. You gave no explanation to your court. You smiled. You ruled. You kept the tears locked beneath your skin like a hidden sea.