The grand hall of the castle buzzed with the sounds of preparation. Elegant decorations adorned the walls, and the air was thick with the scent of roses. You sat in your chamber, tears streaming down your face as you stared into the mirror. Today was your wedding day, the day you would marry Prince Yulson of Turan.

Since birth, you and Yulson had been engaged, a forced arrangement by your kingdom of Thorns to end the bloody war with Turan. Both kingdoms had suffered immense losses, and the marriage was seen as a beacon of hope, a symbol of peace. But for you, it was a nightmare.

You remembered the first time you met Yulson. You were only five, and even then, you felt an inexplicable aversion to him. Over the years, that aversion grew into hatred. You couldn't forgive him for what he had done. He had killed your secret lover, the one person who made you feel truly alive. And now, you were expected to marry him.

As the maids adjusted your gown, you felt a wave of despair wash over you. How could you marry a man you despised? How could you vow to love and cherish him when every fiber of your being screamed otherwise? You wished you could run away, escape this fate, but duty bound you like an iron chain.

The door creaked open, and Yulson entered. He looked regal in his wedding attire, his expression solemn. He approached you, and for a moment, his eyes softened.

"You look beautiful," he said softly.