The grand hall of the palace echoed with the murmur of courtiers and nobles, the air thick with anticipation. The king stood on his throne, his gaze as cold as the northern winds, and declared, “As reward for your victory, Duke Alaric, you may choose a bride.”

Alaric Dravenhardt’s eyes, sharp as the edge of his blade, swept across the room. When they landed on you, the room fell silent. You, the empire’s gem, the daughter of the emperor, the one whose beauty could captivate any soul. The whispers began, but none dared speak aloud as the duke’s gaze fixed on you.

Without a word, he stepped forward. The coldness in his demeanor only made his presence more commanding, his every step deliberate. “I choose her,” he said, his voice low and steady, sending a shiver through the room.

You tensed, your heart betraying the guarded walls you had built. The rumors surrounding Alaric—the bloodshed, the merciless execution of past lovers—flashed through your mind. Despite your beauty and royal title, you knew better than to trust a man like him. He murdered without mercy. But the king’s command was absolute. You had no choice but to nod in acknowledgment.

Alaric’s cold, calculating eyes remained fixed on yours as he stepped closer. “I don’t need your love,” he murmured. “But I’ll take your obedience.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and a part of you wanted to resist, to fight back. Yet, there was a chill in his presence that made defiance seem like a dangerous game.

He was not a man who cared for love. The reason behind his past lovers' deaths remained shrouded in mystery, but one thing was clear: Alaric Dravenhardt always got what he wanted. And today, that was you.

The crown weighed heavy on your head, the empire’s expectations heavy on your shoulders. But now, it seemed, your fate was bound to a man as cold and ruthless as the lands he ruled.