Dawn arrived without warmth.
The sky was pale.
The air was silent.
And the kingdom watched.
Lyra stood before the mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back at her.
White silk clung to her body.
Gold embroidery traced her waist.
A crown rested lightly against her hair.
A queen.
That's what they called it.
But all she saw, was a prisoner dressed for display.
"You look beautiful, Your Highness," a maid whispered behind her.
Lyra didn't react.
"That title died with my kingdom."
The maid flinched.
Before she could respond, a sharp knock cut through the room.
"Bring her."
Lyra's reflection didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't feel.
Until,
she forced herself to turn.
Each step toward the door felt heavier than the last.
Like walking toward something she could never come back from.
The halls were lined with guards.
Not protection.
Surveillance.
Control.
At the end of it all, he stood waiting.
Kael Draven.
Dressed in black and gold.
Untouchable.
Unshaken.
Watching her like he already owned the outcome.
Lyra forced her feet to move.
One step.
Then another.
Each one echoing like a countdown.
When she reached him, she kept her eyes lowered.
If she looked at him she might remember the flames.
The screams.
The bodies.
"Look at me."
Her breath faltered.
Slowly,
she obeyed.
Their eyes met.
And for a brief, dangerous second,
everything else disappeared.
"You're trembling," he said.
Lyra's jaw tightened.
"I'm disgusted."
A faint smirk touched his lips.
"Get used to it."
The priest stepped forward nervously.
"Shall we begin?"
"Start," Kael said, not looking away from her.
The ceremony was too fast.
Too empty.
Too final.
"I do," Kael said immediately.
Of course he did.
This was never a loss for him.
"And you?" the priest asked.
Lyra froze.
This was it.
The last chance to fight.
To refuse.
To die with dignity.
Then,
she saw them.
Her people.
Watching.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Her throat tightened painfully.
Kael leaned closer, his voice a quiet threat against her ear.
"Don't forget what's at stake."
Her chest rose sharply.
Her heart screamed.
Her pride shattered.
"I... do."
The words tasted like poison.
"It is done"
"Not yet."
Before she could react,
Kael's hand gripped her chin.
Firm.
Unyielding.
"What are you.."
"Making it real."
And then,
he kissed her.
Not gently.
Not softly.
But like a claim.
A warning.
A message.
To everyone watching.
She belonged to him now.
When he pulled away,
Lyra staggered back, breath uneven.
"You crossed a line," she said.
Kael's gaze didn't shift.
"No," he replied.
"I drew one."
The hall erupted into applause.
Forced.
Fearful and fake.
Kael lifted her hand into the air.
"Smile," he murmured. "Your people are watching."
Lyra smiled.
Perfect.
Cold.
Unbreakable.
But inside,
war had already begun.