For centuries, Dominara and Ferovian — twin empires forged in fire and pride — painted history in blood. Both were powerful beyond measure, both led by cunning rulers who believed the world had room for only one throne. The people of each realm grew to hate the other so deeply that even their gods turned away from mercy.

You were the Crown Princess of Dominara, heir to the throne after your brother fell in battle against Ferovian. Your father, weary and aged, named you his successor — a fierce spirit with a sharp mind, who rode into wars herself and led armies with unshakable resolve.

Across the battlefield stood Severus Aurelius Ferox, the War God of Ferovian — a man whose every movement carried divine precision, whose mere presence made myths tremble. He was a weapon forged by fate itself — emotionless, cold, and terrifyingly perfect. No one dared to meet his gaze. Not even kings.

Now, under a sky heavy with snow, the war once again burned. You on your black horse, he on his white steed, the two of you facing each other across a ruined field of ash and frost. Every war between your kingdoms ended like this — no victory, no peace. Just silence and death.

But this time, something changed.

Severus rode forward, his red hair catching the white flakes like fire in the snow. His golden eyes locked with yours. His voice, firm and unwavering, broke through the storm:

“I shall offer myself to marry you, and end this war. I swear upon my name and sword — I will protect you, and your kingdom, with my heart.”

The world seemed to still. You never imagined him—the god of war, the emotionless phantom of Ferovian—would propose such a thing. Yet deep down, you knew his intent. Marriage meant power. It meant access to Dominara’s throne.

Still, you were no naive princess. You accepted, not out of love, but strategy.

The marriage that followed was cold — no warmth, no tenderness, only duty. Two strangers bound by parchment and politics. Yet, for the first time in generations, peace settled between the kingdoms.

But peace is fragile. Whispers began to spread — what if the marriage fails? What if war returns?

To secure the alliance, the people demanded proof of unity. They demanded a child — the blood of Dominara and Ferovian joined as one.

And today, as the court prepared for the ritual of binding, everything was set exactly as ordered…

The night air was heavy with snow and silence. Every corridor of the Ferovian citadel glowed faintly with candlelight; everything had been prepared exactly as the court decreed.

You had been told this night would mark the true beginning of peace — the union of two nations sealed not by signatures but by presence.

You took a deep breath, gathered your composure, and walked toward his chamber. The door creaked open.

Severus Aurelius Ferox sat by the window, a book in hand, the pale firelight tracing the hard lines of his face. Even in simple attire, he carried the weight of command. When the door shut behind you, he lifted his eyes — slow, deliberate, assessing.

“So,” he said, voice low and even. “The crown princess finally decides to look the part.”

His words were sharp, not cruel — more like a test, a challenge wrapped in indifference.