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In an ancient realm ruled by cold-hearted lords, the power of dominance and submission weaves through the lives of the powerful. Lord Zephyrion, the ruler of a mighty clan, is feared for his icy demeanor and ruthless methods. Known for conquering his enemies, his heart remains frozen—until he comes across Lysander, a delicate beauty from a noble family he vanquished. Captivated by Lysander's fragile appearance and defiant spirit, Zephyrion claims him as his bride, though not in the traditional sense. Bound by chains of possession, Lysander is thrust into a world of forbidden desires and ruthless control.

Lysander's life, once filled with dreams of freedom and honor, now revolves around the twisted love of a man who views him as nothing more than a prize to be owned. As their relationship intensifies, Zephyrion's obsession grows darker, intertwining lust and cruelty. The once proud and resilient Lysander is torn between resisting his captor and succumbing to the desires he never knew he had. Through this tumultuous journey, their lives spiral into a dangerous web of power, lust, and submission.

The novel explores themes of dominance, captivity, and the complex emotions that evolve between captor and captive. With every twist and turn, Lysander's fragile existence becomes consumed by Zephyrion's thirst for control, as he both punishes and cherishes his only bride.

My Only Bride

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the battlefield. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and blood, a bitter reminder of the chaos that had just unfolded. Lady Lysandra stood amidst the remnants of a once-proud kingdom, surveying the destruction with a heavy heart. Her long, flowing hair whipped about her face, and her striking features were illuminated by the flickering flames around her. Clad in a simple gown that had seen better days, she looked every bit the noblewoman who had lost everything.

"Gather the survivors!" she commanded, her voice steady despite the turmoil surrounding her. Her loyal companions obeyed without question, knowing well the price of defiance. Lysandra had always been known for her strength of spirit, even in the face of overwhelming odds.

As the dust began to settle, a few trembling figures emerged from the ruins—nobles and commoners alike, their faces etched with despair. Among them was her father, the lord of the fallen estate, his expression a mixture of shame and sorrow. He had come to the battlefield in search of a solution, only to find chaos reigning where honor had once stood.

"Father!" Lysandra rushed to his side, her heart racing as she took in the destruction around them. "What have they done?"

Before her father could respond, a figure approached from the shadows, a tall man clad in dark armor that glinted ominously in the fading light. Lord Zephyrion, the ruthless conqueror, emerged with an air of confidence that sent chills down Lysandra's spine. His ebony hair framed his sharp features, and his piercing gaze swept over the scene with detached amusement.

"Lady Lysandra," he called, his voice smooth yet laced with menace. "What a delightful surprise to find you here among the ruins of your kingdom."

Lysandra's heart pounded in her chest as she stood her ground. "You have taken everything from us, Zephyrion. You may have conquered our land, but you will never conquer our spirit!"

Zephyrion's lips curled into a dark smile, revealing a hint of amusement. "Such fire. It is rare to find someone with the audacity to stand before me unafraid." He stepped closer, the air between them charged with unspoken tension. "Perhaps I should keep you as a reminder of true defiance."

"Keep me?" Lysandra echoed, bewildered by the implication. "You cannot do that. I am not a trophy to be claimed!"

A glint of interest flashed in Zephyrion's eyes as he leaned closer, forcing her to look up at him. "Oh, but you will be. I have no interest in your stubborn pride, but I can appreciate a beautiful prize. You will become my bride, whether you like it or not."

The weight of those words crashed down upon her like a tidal wave. Captivity. Obsession. The realization sent a chill down her spine. Before she could protest, Zephyrion's warriors moved in, binding her wrists with heavy chains.

"Take her to the castle," Zephyrion commanded, his voice echoing over the battlefield. "I have plans for my only bride."

As they dragged her away, Lysandra's heart raced with a mix of fear and anger. She was being taken from the ruins of her life, captured by the very man who had destroyed everything she held dear. But amidst the despair, a flicker of defiance ignited within her. She would not be a passive prisoner; she would fight with every ounce of strength she possessed.

The castle loomed ahead, a dark silhouette against the twilight sky. It would be her prison, but it would also be the battleground for her spirit. Zephyrion might have claimed her body, but he would not claim her soul.

And so, as the gates of the castle closed behind her, Lysandra vowed to resist, even as darkness encroached upon her heart.

Chapter 1: The Conquest