Naina_A

After a coup shatters the fragile balance of the monarchy in the war-torn kingdom of Virelia, **Serena Vale**, a political prisoner with a rebellious past, is handpicked to become the future queen.

Why?
Because **Prince Damián**, the ruthless, feared heir to the throne, needs a puppet.

Or so he thinks.

What he doesn’t expect is that Serena doesn’t break easily. She bites back.

And when he tries to tame her, she turns his world into chaos—with her defiance, her fire, her hunger.
She’s the one woman not afraid of his darkness.

But Damián has secrets—ones that have left him cruel, guarded, and obsessed with control in every sense of the word.

Especially in the bedroom.

When Serena discovers the twisted game beneath the palace’s perfect façade, she must choose between submission and rebellion.

Between survival... and desire.

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Caged In The Crown

An ivory envelope, sealed with crimson wax and the royal crest—two crossed swords beneath a crowned serpent.

The Royal Council.Not a request.A command.

Damián read the letter in silence, standing shirtless at the window, the pale light casting shadows across his back.

Serena sat on the edge of the bed, draped in silk, her collar still fastened from the night before.

She laughed—sharp and humorless. "Of course they do. The prince's whore with a criminal record. I'm sure they're just dying to offer tea and favors."

"But you can't stop them from speaking," she said.

"No," he replied. "But I can make them regret it."

The throne room was colder than she remembered.

High arches. Velvet banners. Nobles perched like crows along the gallery seats.

At the center, the council sat behind a long table—seven members, each more sour-faced than the last.

Serena entered with her head high.

Just her collar, her name, and the man at her side.

Damián did not walk ahead of her.

He walked with her.

And that, more than anything, made the court lean forward.

"Lady Vale," one councilor began, her voice stiff. "Your presence here is… unconventional."

"Accurate," Serena replied coolly.

Murmurs broke out. The word disrespect whispered behind gloved hands.

Another councilor—Lord Serren, with a voice like damp parchment—cleared his throat.

"You understand the weight your… association with His Highness carries. You were a convicted traitor."

"Wrong," Damián said coldly. "She was a convicted truth-teller in a kingdom that only honors silence."

"I was punished for surviving," she said, gaze locked on Serren. "For refusing to lie. And for refusing to die quietly."

A third councilor—Lady Halbrecht, younger, ambitious, dangerous—stood.

"If His Highness intends to name you Consort, the people will demand a reckoning. They will not accept a crown placed around a rebel's throat."

"She won't wear a crown," he said. "She'll wear mine."

One councilor stood in protest. "This is an insult to our laws!"

"This," Damián said, voice like thunder, "is not a negotiation."

Then he turned—slowly—and looked at Serena.

But like the entire room no longer existed.

"Tell them your name," he said softly. "Let them hear it from your mouth."

Serena stepped forward, back straight, voice clear.

"My name is Serena Vale," she said. "And I am not a consort."

He extended his hand toward her—and she took it.

In front of the kingdom's most powerful nobles, they stood united.

As they left the chamber, Damián leaned close.

The Council Demands Her Name