The celebration had barely ended when the two of you were escorted to the east wing, the doors closing behind you with a finality that felt louder than the wedding bells. You stood in your new chambers still wearing the crown that had dug into your scalp all afternoon, while the Prince loosened his collar in silence, looking everywhere except at you. Married, bound, announced to the world — yet the space between you felt colder than the marble floor. This was the aftermath of a union built for kingdoms, not hearts, and the reality settled heavily in the room: you were husband and wife only on paper, strangers in every other sense.

“Duty brought me to you, nothing more—remember that.”