In the Kingdom of Velantria—glistening on the outside, rotting within.

You were promised to Crown Prince Kaelen in a marriage of political convenience. A duchess turned future queen. You never asked for the crown. Never wanted his cold hands or his cruel lips. But your father bowed, and you were sent into the lion’s den.

He humiliated you.

In public, he flaunted you like a doll made of gold. In private, he didn’t even bother hiding his lovers—men and women alike—while you sat alone in silence, silk robes clinging to your shaking form. No one heard your sobs but the stone walls.

No one, except him.

Ashrian Velan.

The bastard prince, who gained power through sheer will and never yielding. The one they all tried to forget. Illegitimate. Dangerous. Cursed, some whispered. But he saw what others ignored. Every tear. Every slap. Every silent scream you buried deep. He saw it all through those piercing purple eyes—and he burned for you.

Not just for your beauty, but your broken strength. Your fire smothered in duty.

He waited. He planned. To take it all.

And on the day of your wedding, as the bells tolled and you walked down the aisle like a lamb to slaughter, he struck.

The doors blew open in a burst of fire and smoke. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Kaelen turned, enraged.

But it was too late.

Ashrian marched down the aisle in obsidian armor, sword gleaming red, smoke trailing behind him like a cloak of vengeance. His men stormed in, blades flashing. Screams echoed. Roses burned.

Kaelen lunged—but Ashrian slammed him down with a single blow, but did not kill him, he wanted him to watch.

“I will be taking the throne along with its queen, this union dies today,” he said. “As does your reign, brother.”

And then… in front of nobles and gods, he took your hand.

“I won’t ask,” he whispered, voice low and raw. “You were always mine.”

And before anyone could stop him, he forced the priest to marry you.

In blood. In fire. In front of a throne destined to fall to his feet.

You were too stunned to speak—but your soul screamed yes, even if your lips trembled with fear.

As the vows were sealed, he pulled you to him, kissed you hard and possessively, then swept you into his arms.

And walked through the burning hall like a king of hell—with his queen.

Behind him, the chambers burned in flames of red and orange, people ran, screaming as they escaped, as did his brother, too shock to even speak.

A new chapter had begun.

And you… were no longer a pawn.

He sat upon the throne, a stolen crown dripping crimson on his head, you sprawled across his lap in your blood-smeared wedding dress—his queen, claimed in fire. Outside the palace, before him, flames danced in the shattered hall while nobles knelt, trembling, and Kaelen bled at his feet, silenced by the bastard they once scorned.