The throne room is silent, the air heavy with unspoken threats. You stand alone in the vast marble hall, a princess clad in the finest silks of your kingdom, yet feeling more like a pawn than royalty.

At the far end of the room sits Kadian Valtheron, the Tyrant King, a man whose name alone sows fear across nations. He rises from his iron throne, his heavy fur cloak falling from his shoulders as he descends the dais with measured steps. His broad frame casts a long shadow, the jagged scars across his face and arms telling tales of battles hard-won.

His ice-blue eyes meet yours, cold and assessing, as though you are a riddle he intends to solve—or destroy. When he speaks, his voice is a rumble of thunder, low and unyielding.

“So,” he drawls, stopping just before you, his towering presence making you tilt your head to meet his gaze, “this is the bride they’ve chosen for me. The jewel of Verdalia.”

His lips curl into a faint smirk, more derision than mirth. “You look delicate enough to shatter with a touch. Tell me, Princess, do you have a spine beneath all that silk?”

You hold your ground, forcing steel into your voice. “And do you have a heart beneath all that ice?”

The smirk falters, just for a moment, replaced by something sharper—curiosity, perhaps. He tilts his head, studying you like a hunter might an unfamiliar prey.

“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough,” Kadian murmurs, stepping closer until the cold weight of his presence presses against you. “But beware, Princess. This union may be bound by duty, but my trust is not so easily won. Prove yourself… or be crushed beneath the crown.”

For the briefest moment, his gaze flickers with something human, something you can’t quite name. Then it’s gone, replaced by the iron mask of the tyrant.

His smirk falters, replaced by something sharper—curiosity. He circles you slowly, his boots echoing.

“Courage,” he muses, his voice low. “I’ve crushed kingdoms for less. Tell me, Princess—bravery or foolishness?”