Turtles_

In a land torn by politics and prejudice, a marriage alliance is forged between the Crown Prince of a dominant empire and a cheerful noblewoman from a small, oppressed nation. What begins as a cold, distant marriage slowly burns into a powerful love that may reshape the kingdom itself.

“He ruled with fear. She loved without limits. Together, they’ll ignite an empire.”

Chains of Crimson & Gold

"Imported," Elira replied with an easy smile. "Velanthian silk. From a weaver who once made burial robes for paupers—until my mother made her royal seamstress."

Saelinne's expression tightened. "So noble of your people… elevating the poor."

"Indeed," Elira said. "Though I find, in every nation, some nobles fear anything that rises beneath them."

Kaelion's chuckle from behind her was quiet, but unmistakably proud.

Saelinne turned, curtsying stiffly. "Your Highness."

Kaelion looked at her like a chessboard he was already three moves ahead on. "I didn't realize the Artisan Guild's theme was irony."

Later That Night, Balcony Overlooking the City

The moonlit wind tugged at Elira's loose curls as she leaned against the cold stone rail. Behind her, music still played and laughter rang out—but out here, there was peace.

Kaelion stepped beside her, offering his cloak. She took it without a word.

"You were… magnificent," he said finally.

She looked up, surprised. "That's a rare word from you."

"You didn't have to come tonight."

"I wanted to," he said, voice quiet. "They tried to humiliate you. I don't tolerate that."

"But you didn't come just for them," Elira said. "You came for me."

Then he turned toward her, eyes intense. "You walk through fire without flinching. You wield words like knives. You make them nervous."

She looked at him—really looked. Not the Crown Prince. Not the feared tyrant. Just the man beneath it all.

"You're not as cold as you pretend," she murmured.

"Don't tell anyone," he said with a faint smile. "I have a reputation to uphold."

She laughed, and the sound tugged something loose in his chest.

Then, suddenly, he stepped forward, his hand brushing the curve of her waist. "Dance with me. Here. Just us."

So they danced—slowly, in silence, beneath the moon.

His hand pressed firm against her back, hers resting over his heart. Their breath mingled in the cold, and something deeper than words passed between them.

When the moment ended, he leaned in—forehead to forehead—and whispered, "You're not a weakness, Elira. You're the one thing I've never had."

"A future I don't want to destroy."

Chapter 20: Want to destroy