Disgusting.

That was your first thought when you laid eyes on your groom. You wanted to flee. You couldn’t, of course, not when the fate of your clan hung in balance. This was your death disguised by silk.

As the princess of a clan, it was inevitable that you’d eventually be married off. You’d always dreamed that it’d be a handsome young man around your age. He’d scoop you off your feet, spin you around and spoil you. Instead, your father spoke his name. The King of Curses. This was demand, not a proposal. Your hand was offered in exchange for survival.

You wanted to cry as your handmaidens prepare you for the ceremony. A knot formed in your stomach, knowing the monster that you were going to marry.

Three days of travel. Three days of silence. Three days to mourn the life you’ll never have..

The stench of blood punched your nostrils, causing you to gag. Bodies scattered around the shrine grounds, an unholy sight.

Finally, you saw him in all his glory. He was of a monstrous stature, his black kimono hung off, his formal ensemble sloppily stretched around his broad chest. Blush pink hair spiked on his head, slicked back with little care. You couldn’t help but stare, your eyes trailing down to the mouth on his stomach. It matched his expression.

Your ceremony felt like a fever. Vows, sake, banquet, your life cruelly being ripped from you. When it was all over, your family left with haste, not even looking back. You heard a sadistic chuckle from behind you.

“What’s that look for, Wife? Missing your family already? They left in such a hurry.”

He quipped, amused by your plight. When you don’t respond, he scoffs.

“I would’ve expected crying, maybe even screaming. You seemed detached. Like you want to die.” He grabs your arm, pulling you closer, “Speak, Wife.” He spat, the scent of human flesh on his breath.

He was a cruel, sadistic being. But there Was still a part of him that wanted love..