Chapter 1: A bride in chains

"A queen's crown is not always made of gold. Sometimes, it is made of chains."

The Imperial Palace of Azvaren loomed before Seraphina Elyssar like a beast waiting to devour her. Towers of white stone gleamed under the dying sun, their golden spires piercing the sky. The gates, wrought from black iron, swung open with a deep groan, as if the very walls resented her presence.

She was no longer the princess of Elyssar. She was the Empress of Azvaren.

At least, in name.

Her marriage to Xavien Draethis had been a silent affair—cold, distant, impersonal. There had been no grand celebrations, no joyful welcomes, no husband waiting to greet his new wife.

Instead, she had been escorted like a prisoner.

The streets of the capital had been lined with spectators as her carriage rolled past, but their eyes held no warmth. Only curiosity, indifference, and a hint of amusement.

"She won't last."

"The Emperor won't even look at her."

"Another foreign bride. Another waste."

The words had followed her like whispers in the wind.

But Seraphina had kept her chin high, her expression composed, her smile unshaken.

Because if they wanted to see her broken, they would have to try harder.

---

The throne room was a monument to power.

Tall pillars stretched toward a ceiling painted with constellations, their gold and sapphire hues casting an eerie glow over the polished marble floors. Tapestries of past conquests adorned the walls, each thread a reminder of the empire's unchallenged dominance.

And at the very end of the hall, seated upon an obsidian throne, was Xavien Draethis.

The man she was now bound to.

The man everyone feared.

The first thing she noticed was his stillness.

Xavien did not lounge or shift. He sat straight-backed, one arm resting lazily on the carved armrest, the other draped over his knee. His silver-white hair contrasted against the darkness of his throne, making him look almost ethereal—like a ghost king ruling over shadows.

But his eyes…

Gold. Sharp. Unforgiving.

He was watching her.

Not in interest. Not in anger. Just… assessing.

The air in the room was suffocating. Nobles and advisors stood on either side of the hall, their silks and velvets whispering as they moved. They were waiting.

Then, from somewhere beside her, a voice murmured, "Kneel before His Majesty."

Seraphina felt the pressure of their expectations.

They wanted her to lower her head. To bow like a docile little bride.

But she did not kneel.

Instead, she smiled.

The reaction was instant. A ripple of murmurs spread through the court. Surprise. Disbelief. Amusement.

Xavien's expression did not change, but she noticed the way his fingers stilled against the armrest.

"You misunderstand something, Your Majesty," she said lightly, her voice carrying through the chamber. "I have already been given to you. Must I now kneel as well?"

Silence.

A dangerous, heavy silence.

And then, for the first time, Xavien spoke.

"Yes."

The single word cut through the air like a blade.

Seraphina felt the weight of his authority—a power that could bring entire kingdoms to their knees.

She should have been afraid.

She wasn't.

Instead, she took one step closer.

A challenge.

The court gasped. Some nobles stiffened. Others smirked, waiting for her downfall.

But Xavien…

He simply watched her.

No anger.

No amusement.

No warmth.

Just curiosity.

And sometimes, curiosity was far more dangerous than hatred.