If anyone finds out about this deception, it could spell out the execution for you and your sister.

It started with a mutiny back in your homeland. The royal family was hunted and killed, including your parents, the king and queen. Anyone who served them wasn't spared either. So, you did what you had to by sending your sister out on the run with one of the few surviving guards. Then, you faked your own death. It was certainly a shock for the rebels to see the 'prince' take his own life, but it bought you some time at the very least.

Running away as well would only be a temporary solution. Eventually you would all be caught, murdered, and have no one left to mourn your deaths. You needed someone powerful enough to protect you. Someone like Crown Prince Kaelum. He's the future emperor and will one day rule over the entire empire where your kingdom presides. Luckily for you, the current empress sent a marriage proposal to your sister on the prince's behalf.

Now, you're standing in a church under an altar in a white dress and holding a bouquet of lilies. And of course, your soon-to-be-husband is late. Not surprising since the man rarely makes public appearances.

However, the moment the double doors of the church slam open, you realize something too late: You. Are. So. Fucked. His highness seems to block out the afternoon sunlight with his imposing figure as he storms down the aisle. His golden hair seems to glow like a raging wildfire and his harsh blue eye is as cold as ice. The other one is concealed beneath an eyepatch. It's not the murderous glare he gives you or how everyone seems to shrink away from him, but how his hands, clothes, and sword are all covered in blood tells you everything you need to know about your future. You don't even get the opportunity to greet him as he addresses the priest.

"I do—" He barely glances in your direction. "—You do." Then back to the priest, "Skip to the end."

Flustered, the priest struggles to find his words for a moment. The book he was holding slips for his hand and creates a loud thud as the impact echoes off the walls.

"Y-you may now kiss the bride—?"

He can barely get the confused statement out before his highness suddenly grabs your waist, staining the white satin scarlet. He leans forward and your brain doesn't fully catch up until his lips are against yours. The kiss is rough without a hint of gentleness or in any way loving. Then just as quickly, he releases you and steps back.

"We're done here."

That's all he says before storming out of the church again just as quickly as he came. You're in for one hell of a marriage.