The Celestial Swap
The courtyard of Valyria's Palace had never held such grandeur before. Golden banners lined the palace walls, celestial silk stretched between the high towers, and holy fire flickered in braziers, filling the air with the scent of burning myrrh.
The crowd was electric with whispers and anticipation.
The marriage of a Valerian princess to the Celestial Prince—and another to the Duke of White Raven—was an event that would define history. Queen Naomi made sure of that.
But history was already being rewritten.
No one knew what was coming.
...
Ariel stood beneath the obsidian archway, the weight of the moment pressing into her skin like a brand.
She was a storm wrapped in silk, danger dressed in silver and midnight blue.
The gown clung to her curves , shifting with her every movement like liquid starlight, embroidered with diamond constellations that pulsed as if alive.
Her hair, golden as fallen sundust, cascaded in soft waves, interwoven with delicate golden chains that gleamed under the celestial lights.
Her lips—plump, glistening like polished rubies, the color of freshly spilled wine.
Her eyes—piercing, sharp, blue like the forging of ice and diamond .
She was breathtaking.
But no one saw her.
She was trapped beneath the Veil Maiden's enchantment, a shimmering silk spell that only her groom could remove.
A veil she couldn't see through until the bridegroom lifts it from her face.
He has to be the one she see first, to seal the marriage perfectly.
The world believed her to be Bianca.
And the real Bianca?
Draped in celestial white, her honey-brown hair braided with sapphires, she stood smirking beneath her veil.
This was the moment she had been waiting for.
The moment the world would see her as queen.
Or so she thought. Ariel seemed to have other plans.
The Celestial Prince's carriage had been waiting the entire time, a silver fortress, unmoving, untouched—a throne on wheels.
Unlike the Duke of White Raven, who had emerged eager to claim his bride, the Celestial Prince had not stirred.
He had waited.
Waited for fate to seal the bond.
Waited for her to walk into his world.
And only then—when she was already bound to him, past the point of no return—did he step out.
The door opened.
The Celestial Prince stepped from his carriage, and the world seemed to hold its breath.
He was tall. Too tall. Towering over the nobles, broad-shouldered, impossibly built—a walking omen.
The air thickened.
A hush spread like wildfire.
Even the wind forgot to move.
He emerged, tall, unyielding, a figure carved from divinity itself.
His robes, woven from celestial silk, shimmered like woven moonlight, shifting between silver and deep blue, embroidered with moving constellations that pulsed like a living cosmos.
A flowing cloak of white and gold billowed behind him, each step carrying the weight of the heavens.
But his face—his face was unknowable.
A silver mask, cold and unforgiving, obscured his features. Engraved with celestial sigils, it pulsed faintly, as if it had a heartbeat of its own.
It was expressionless, mercilessly smooth, yet it felt as though it was watching—seeing everything.
Ariel's breath hitched.
Then his eyes—
Twin burning flames.
Stars on the verge of collapse.
They pierced through the mask's thin slits, glowing like molten gold dipped in fire.
Not warm.
Not comforting.
Not holy.
But hungry.
Like the last light one would see before being swallowed by the void.
He was beautiful in the way that an eclipse was beautiful—the kind of beauty that warned of destruction.
And yet…
He did not speak.
He did not move with haste.
He simply stood there, watching her.
The masked prince. The faceless enigma.
The most powerful man in the Heavenly Realm… and the most dangerous.
Bound to her.
And now—she belonged to him.
Well… not yet.
The air thickened. The very sky seemed to bend and warp, and suddenly—
It descended.
A being of molten starlight, twelve vast wings unfurling like scripture torn from the heavens.
The Angel of Binding.
It had no true form, no eyes, no mouth—just power, absolute and inescapable.
The moment its weightless feet touched the ground, the entire courtyard stilled.
Ariel's lungs tightened.
It lifted a hand, and golden threads appeared—woven from fate itself.
One wrapped around her wrist, pulling toward her mysterious groom.
Another coiled around Bianca's, binding her to the Duke of White Raven.
The Angel's voice rippled through their minds.
"The marriages are witnessed. They shall be sealed."
Bianca's smirk widened.
She didn't glanced at her groom. She couldn't se him through the veil.
Didn't even notice she was bound to the wrong man.
The Angel's wings flared—then vanished.
The vow was sealed.
There was no turning back.
---
The Invisible Bridge of Fate:
A chasm of mist and shadows stretched before them.
There was no bridge.
No path forward.
Only emptiness.
This was the final test.
If a bride and groom were not truly fated, they would fall.
Ariel's stomach tightened as the truth crashed over her.
The test. She had forgotten about the test.
She clenched her fists, and bit her lower lip beneath the veil. She knew how the bridge worked—if fate truly dictated their unions, the path would appear.
But she had cheated fate.
And now it would punish her.