"You may kiss the bride."

The words echoed through the grand hall of Dradevows Castle. Alexander leaned in, but instead of a kiss on her lips, his lips brushed lightly against Valkyrie's forehead. The gesture was symbolic—cold, formal, and distant. The crowd, a mixture of nobles and military officials, erupted in applause, though there was an air of uncertainty hanging over the celebration.

Princess Valkyrie of Narva stood motionless, her face a mask of control. Her expression gave nothing away as she faced the reality of her marriage. She had no choice but to wear the mask of docility, even though her mind burned with memories of bloodshed and grief. The destruction of her kingdom, Narva, at the hands of Dradevows, and the murder of her family replayed in her thoughts like a nightmare she couldn’t wake from.

Despite these grim thoughts, the crowd in Dradevows supported the union. There were murmurs of optimism among the court, though some voices of doubt persisted, hidden in hushed whispers between those present.

“I think she’ll do a great job. She was the crown princess, after all,” a courtier whispered to another.

“But don’t you think she might seek revenge?” another voice retorted, laced with suspicion.

“I’ve heard rumors that she still mourns for her family. How could she forget the bloodshed? It was our doing after all.”

Yet, many held the belief that Valkyrie would eventually align herself with their kingdom’s needs and lead them with grace. What they didn’t know was that deep within Valkyrie's heart, every breath she took was fueled by vengeance.

After the Narva Kingdom fell, Alexander had announced that he would marry its crown princess. It was a political move, a show of dominance to consolidate power and ensure no uprising could grow out of Narva’s ashes. The marriage was meant to unite two fractured kingdoms, but for Valkyrie, it was a trap—a gilded cage with an iron fist around her neck.

After the ceremony ended, the guests slowly dispersed, and the once vibrant hall became silent. Valkyrie stood beside Alexander as they received congratulations from various dignitaries and members of the royal family.

“Congratulations on your wedding, sister-in-law,” Alexander’s older sister said with a sweet smile before leaning in close. As she embraced Valkyrie, she whispered in her ear, “Just because you’re part of the family now doesn’t mean I trust you, outsider.”

Valkyrie didn’t flinch. She was used to venom in words and daggers hidden in smiles. “Thank you, your highness,” she responded with a forced smile.

“Oh, please, call me Avaloone,” Alexander's sister replied, though her tone was frosty. As she walked away, Valkyrie watched her go, her own smile fading into a steely expression.

Nightfall came quickly, and the atmosphere in Dradevows Castle shifted to one of eerie stillness. Inside their new chambers, Alexander and Valkyrie were left alone for the first time since their wedding.

The room was decorated extravagantly with red and gold drapes, fitting for royalty, but it felt cold and distant—just like their relationship. Alexander moved toward the window, gazing out at the moonlit courtyard, while Valkyrie remained near the door, her hand still gripping the frame, unwilling to move further inside.

“Listen,” she began, her voice sharp, “just because I agreed to this marriage doesn’t mean we can develop romantic feelings for each other.”

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Alexander turned to face her, his gaze indifferent as it met hers. “That’s fine with me,” he replied. “To be clear, marrying you wasn’t my idea.”

Valkyrie scoffed softly, her eyes narrowing. “I’m glad to hear that,” she said, glaring at him. She didn’t need affection from the man who had led the attack on her home. All she needed was a means to survive and exact her revenge when the time was right.

As the tension between them simmered, Valkyrie’s mind drifted back to the day of her capture. It was a moment that had sealed her fate.

The streets of Narva had been reduced to rubble, smoke billowing in the air as cries of anguish echoed through the kingdom. She had been dragged from the castle in chains, forced to watch as her family was slaughtered before her eyes. The people of Dradevows, soldiers and citizens alike, demanded her execution alongside them.

"Kill her, your highness!" they had shouted, their voices filled with bloodlust.

Alexander had stood before her, his eyes cold as steel. He could have given the order then and there, and her life would have ended. But instead, he had untied her hands and raised her before the crowd.

“Today, I am making an announcement,” Alexander had declared, his voice ringing with authority. “Princess Valkyrie of Narva will soon be my wife and will rule the kingdom alongside me.”

The crowd had been stunned into silence, unsure of what to make of this sudden twist. Valkyrie, however, had remained calm, her mind already calculating the possibilities. Marriage to her enemy was a chance to stay alive, a chance to regain control—even if it meant playing along for now.

In the present, Valkyrie refocused on the man in front of her.

“Anyway,” she said coolly, her eyes never leaving him, “I don’t want your people as my personal knights.”

“Oh?” Alexander replied, raising an eyebrow. “Is that a favor you’re asking?”

“No,” she said sharply. “I still don’t trust you or your people.”

Alexander smirked at her, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you even have any of your people left here?”

She met his gaze evenly. “I know the Narva knights are imprisoned in this castle. Release them.”

Alexander let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “I can’t do that.”

Valkyrie narrowed her eyes. “I’ll tell you the location of our secret mine if you do.”

“Don’t act like you know everything,” Alexander said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “We’ve already found all the mines in your country. They’re all in the east.”

Valkyrie chuckled bitterly, her laugh hollow and cold. “No wonder the Dradevows people are ignorant,” she said, her voice laced with contempt. “That’s why you attacked us—you were on the verge of collapse. All you do is wage endless wars while your people grow poorer and poorer. Your people are nothing but blind sheep, following the king’s orders until they’re dead—"

Before she could finish, Alexander was suddenly upon her, his hand wrapped around her throat. His grip was firm, but not tight enough to choke her.

“Insult my father all you want,” he growled, his face inches from hers, “but don’t speak ill of my people. I could snap your neck right now, but you’re lucky I convinced everyone—including my sister—that I love this pitiful princess.”

Valkyrie stared back at him, her expression unyielding. “Fine,” she said quietly. “I’ll stop insulting your beloved people. In return, I want my knights.”

Alexander’s grip loosened, and he stepped back. “Where’s the secret mine?” he asked, his voice calmer but still tense.

She didn’t answer immediately, and he could see the fire in her eyes. She was playing him, and she knew it.

“Fine,” he finally relented. “You can have your pathetic soldiers. Now, tell me where the mine is.”

Valkyrie hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Take me back to my palace, and I’ll show you,” she said.

“Is that a trap?” he asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Are you afraid?” Valkyrie responded, a smirk playing on her lips.

Alexander clenched his fists, his patience running thin. “Don’t play with me, princess. You know you’re in my territory, right?”

She rolled her eyes, her smirk never faltering. “I’m not afraid if you kill me right now.”

“You’re getting on my nerves,” Alexander growled, stepping closer again. “Just tell me where it is!”

But Valkyrie remained silent, knowing she had the upper hand. She could feel his frustration building, and it was exactly what she wanted. His desperation for the mine made him vulnerable, and she wasn’t about to let that go.

“Fine,” Alexander snapped, storming toward the door. “I’ll take you there. Are you happy now?”

Valkyrie watched as he left the room in a fury, her smirk fading into a cold, calculating expression. This game was far from over. If anything, it had just begun.