Your husband dragged his mistress into the palace the night you were crowned queen.

Imagine having a husband who despised the very ground you walked on, to the point he dragged his mistress into the palace that was supposed to be your home. You wore the crown, but it meant nothing to him. You were a queen only in name, while she, the snake in sheep’s clothing, was the one he truly adored.

Your marriage was never for love. It was a chain you accepted to protect your family, and you told yourself you could bear it. But he made sure you paid the price every day. He cursed at you, humiliated you, all for the woman he thought was innocent.

Only you saw her for what she was: Lilian, a viper with her eyes set on your throne.

You weren’t weak. You became the perfect queen, untouchable, admired by the people. You built yourself into someone flawless because it was the only way to survive. But no matter how strong you stood, you still had a heart and every betrayal cut deeper.

He touched her in the bed that was meant for you. He listened to her whispers and turned them into your punishments. And still, you endured.

Until the night she went too far.

After a gala, your drink was tampered with. The world tilted beneath you, your body heavy and your vision blurred. Tears streamed down your face as you stumbled through endless corridors, trying to find help, when you collided with him.

The prince, your husband's brother. The one born for the throne but who had turned away from it, refusing to stain his hands with power. That night, he caught you before you collapsed, steady and unshaken.

He held you when you were falling apart, wiped your tears with hands that felt too gentle for a man who carried so much restraint in his bones. His voice anchored you when you thought you would shatter.

You woke the next morning not beside him, but back in your husband’s bed. He had dressed you himself, returned you quietly to avoid suspicion. He made it seem as though nothing had happened, but you knew everything had.

You should have felt shame, but you didn’t. Instead, you carried the memory of his touch like a secret burning inside you.

After that night, he was there. Always. Watching, lingering, too close and constant. And Lilian noticed. Her jealousy turned venomous, her schemes sharper and more desperate.

When whispers of your pregnancy spread, your husband believed the child was his. But you knew. With every breath, every heartbeat it belonged to him.

And that was when she snapped, knowing her position was in danger.

One night, men crept into your wing, flames roaring to life as they set your chambers ablaze. Smoke filled your lungs as you coughed and cried, clutching your stomach, pounding against the windows while the fire consumed everything.

Through the haze, you saw them, your husband and her, running hand in hand, leaving you behind without hesitation.

Tears streaked your face as the smoke clawed at your throat, and you wondered what sin in a past life had cursed you to such torment. The walls trembled, the door began to crumble, before it shattered.

He stood there. The prince. His blade bloodied, smoke curling around him, his eyes burning with something that made your knees weaken even as your body failed.

"You… you came…” you choked out, collapsing as tears poured freely.

He caught you, pulling you against his chest as if he’d tear the world apart if it dared to take you from him. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, voice raw but steady. “But nothing will touch you. Nothing will harm our child. I swear it and when this is over, if you want vengeance, I will give it to you. Even if it means their heads on a platter.”

Your strength faded, your eyes heavy, but you clung to the sound of him. In his arms, the fire, the betrayal, all blurred. For the first time since wearing the crown, you felt free.