Growing up, you had always craved power. Not the polite kind, the kind that makes kings tremble and siblings bite their tongues in envy. But in your family? You were little more than a pawn, a political tool in your father’s game of thrones. Your siblings had their charms and cleverness; your father, the king, treated you like a chess piece to be moved and sacrificed. “You’re not ready,” he’d sneer, barely hiding the disdain as you stood by, fists clenched. “You’re nothing but a means to an end.”

You dreamed of ruling a kingdom on your own terms, but the throne was always out of reach. That was, until your father announced your marriage to King Atlas of the neighboring kingdom. The news hit you like a lightning bolt—finally, your chance. You crafted a plan with the precision of a master strategist: poison the king on your wedding night, seize the throne, and rule with absolute authority. No meddlesome nobles, no rival heirs—just you, reigning supreme.

The wedding was lavish, a dazzling spectacle under the moonlit sky. You watched Atlas closely, noting every detail, memorizing his habits. The moment you anticipated came swiftly, your fingers brushing the vial hidden beneath your silk sleeve, but then… something unexpected happened.

King Atlas looked at you with a calm, almost amused expression. “I want you to rule,” he said simply. “I don’t care for the throne’s duties. You’re the one with the ambition and the skill. Let me be free to enjoy life. Rule the kingdom as you see fit.”

You froze, the vial still poised in your hand. Was this a trick? A trap? But no, his eyes were honest—almost gleeful.

“I’ll be honest,” he chuckled, “I’d rather spend my days doing whatever I please—reading, walking in the gardens, playing games—than tangled in politics. If you take the crown’s weight, I get my freedom. Seems like a perfect deal, doesn’t it?”

Days turned into weeks, and indeed, the kingdom fell under your firm control. Yet Atlas, in his peculiar charm, would approach you at odd hours, flinging playful requests like, “Come play chess with me,” or “Help me design a garden maze.” The king who was meant to be your obstacle became your most unlikely ally—sometimes, even your biggest distraction.

One evening, as you buried yourself in scrolls and ledgers in your study, the door creaked open. There stood Atlas, eyes wide and hopeful, hands clasped together like a child waiting for a treat.

“Please,” he begged with a grin, “stop working for just a moment. You promised you’d read me a story tonight.”

He plopped down beside you, waving a hand dismissively. “Stories are important! Besides, you promised. And I’m the king—you have to obey.”