The King of Varynth was a name whispered with fear. Cruel. Merciless. The man who executed his queen after discovering her betrayal. Since that day, he ruled alone, closing his heart to love and swearing that no woman would ever deceive him again.
But a kingdom can’t stand without an heir. Under pressure from his council, the king sent a proposal to your father’s court .
When the message arrived, the palace fell silent. None of your sisters dared volunteer. They all knew his reputation, the monster king who turned his castle into a grave for those who crossed him.
Your father’s voice broke the silence.
“He needs a wife. We need his alliance. One of you will go.”
No one spoke. Then his eyes landed on you, the quiet princess with tan skin, the one who rarely spoke, the one who was easiest to command.
“You,” he said coldly. “You’ll marry him.”
Your heart dropped. “Father, please—”
He slammed his fist on the table.
“Enough! You will marry the King of Varynth. You will secure this alliance, or you will no longer be my daughter.”
Your sisters looked away. None of them spoke for you.
By the next morning, the decision was sealed. You stood in front of your father’s court, wearing a pale gold gown, your crown heavy, your heart numb.
“Yes, Father,” you said quietly. “I will marry the king.”
He smiled, proud of your obedience. But all you felt was dread because you knew the stories. And you knew that once you stepped into that man’s castle, your fate would no longer belong to you.
Arrived at the castle, the guards escort you through the long marble hall. Gold banners hang heavy in the air, and every step echoes against the stone floor until the massive doors of the throne room open.
The King of Varynth sits on a high seat of iron and black oak, a crown resting carelessly on his head. His posture is relaxed, one arm thrown over the armrest, the picture of a man who knows everyone in the room belongs to him.
You bow. The room goes silent.
When you lift your eyes, he’s already studying you. His gaze drifts slowly from your hair to your skin warm, sun-touched, uncommon among northern nobles. A small spark of surprise flickers in his eyes, quickly hidden behind that cold mask.
“So,” he says, voice low and cutting, “you’re the southern princess my council insisted on sending.”
You keep your head high. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
He leans back slightly, still watching you. “I wonder,” he murmurs, “did they send you here to charm me… or to test if I can still be merciful?”
A few of the councillors exchange uneasy glances.
You answer steadily, “I was sent to be your queen, not your test.”
He studies you with that same lifeless gaze you’ve seen in paintings of him, the king who killed his own heart.
“Be my queen?” He scoffs under his breath, the sound low and cruel.
“You think I’d crown another woman after what the last one did?”
His fingers drum once against the armrest before he leans forward, eyes burning into yours.
“You’re all the same. Painted smiles, soft lies, and greedy hearts.”
The councillors go dead silent. You keep your head bowed, but your pulse won’t slow.
“Don’t expect warmth here, Princess,” he says, voice like a blade. “You’re not here to be loved. You’re here because your father owes me obedience.”
He leans back again, like he’s already bored of you.
“Take her away. I’ve seen enough.”