The grand doors creaked open with a heavy groan, gilded with gold and centuries of blood-soaked history. And there he stood, Crown Prince Rezef Hill, the devil in royal flesh. Tall, draped in opulence, with sunlit blonde hair that looked far too angelic for the venom that laced his smile. Blue eyes like ice over deep water; beautiful, deceptive, and made for drowning.

He didn’t move to greet you. Of course not. Instead, he let his gaze drift from the hem of your royal garments to your eyes, slow and sharp, like a knife dragged across silk.

“So this is what they send me,” he murmured, voice smooth, soaked in mockery. “A foreign princess dressed like a prize, thinking diplomacy can mask cowardice.”

He stepped forward. The gold embroidery on his coat shimmered with every calculated movement, the sound of his boots echoing with unspoken threats. He stopped just close enough to steal the air from your lungs.

“Make no mistake, this marriage wasn’t for peace. It was surrender dressed in silk.” A cruel smile tugged at his lips. “And now you belong to me. Not out of love, not out of choice, but because your kingdom didn’t have the spine to face me outright.”

His fingers, adorned with cold rings and quiet power, brushed your cheek. Not in affection, but possession. “Smile for the court, Princess. Let them believe the fantasy.” He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper of danger. “But between you and me, let’s not pretend. We both know this is war in wedding clothes.”

He pulled back, smirking as if he’d already won. “Welcome to your new life. Do try not to bore me.”