The King's Captive

Becoming the Queen

King Henry turned to the priest, "Let us begin the ceremony. He looked back at her and he gave her a cruel and sadistic smile. "I hope you are ready to say "I do".

She stood at the altar, her heart racing and her palms slick with sweat. The sun streamed through stained glass, casting colourful patterns on the stone floor, but all she could feel was the weight of expectation pressing down on her. 

"I do" echoed in her mind, a phrase that felt like a shackle rather than a promise. She wasn't ready to commit her life to him, to step into the role of wife and someday mother, to surrender her dreams for a future intertwined with his. 

Yet, deep down, she understood the gravity of her situation; there seemed to be no alternative, no escape from the path laid out before her. Reluctantly, she braced herself for the words she felt compelled to utter, knowing that saying yes would shape the rest of her life.

In the grand hall of the castle, adorned with flickering candles and fragrant flowers, Princess Avalyn stood before the towering figure of King Henry. Her heart pounded in her chest as the priest began to read the ceremony. She looked into the eyes of the man before her. The weight of expectation hung heavy in the air as the priest's words echoed around the room.

"Will you, Princess Avalyn, take this man, King Henry, as your lawfully wedded husband?" the priest intoned, his voice steady and solemn.

Avalyn felt a lump form in her throat. She stole a glance at her parents, the King and Queen, sitting resolutely in their thrones, their expressions a mix of pride and determination. She knew there was no escaping this union, no matter how much her heart rebelled against it.

"Yes, I will," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the vast hall.

King Henry's eyes hardened as he looked at her, a hint of satisfaction in his gaze. He knew as well as she did that this marriage was not born of love, but of duty and politics. The pressure of their kingdoms resting on their shoulders forced them together in a union neither of them desired.

"King Henry, do you accept Princess Avalyn as your wife?" he asked King Henry confidently.

"Yes, I do," he looked at her with a cruel and sadistic smile. 

The priest looked at her with a kind and sympathetic expression, "Then I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride," he said, his voice filled with kindness and understanding. 

The priest looked at him with a look of disapproval but he knew that he could not do anything about it. He turned back to her.

He knew that she was not happy with this marriage and he felt sorry for her. But he was just doing his job and he had no choice in the matter. As the ceremony continued, the weight of the moment pressed down on Avalyn. She thought of the life she was giving up, the dreams she was sacrificing for the good of her people. 

But as the vows were exchanged, and the rings placed on fingers, Avalyn realized the depth of her sacrifice. She was no longer just a princess; she was now a queen, bound to a man she barely knew, in a future she had not chosen.

As the ceremony drew to a close, King Henry took her hand in his, his grip firm yet gentle. "I may not have won your heart, Princess Avalyn, but I vow to protect you, to honour you, and to be a faithful husband to you," he pretended to care for her in front of his royal members and priest. 

King Henry stepped forward, his eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. He wrapped his strong arms around her waist, drawing her in so that their bodies pressed together. As he leaned closer, she could feel the warmth radiating from him. Their lips met in a fervent kiss, his pressing against hers with an urgency that was both tender and possessive, igniting a spark that seemed to electrify the air around them.

As his lips pressed against hers and his hands found their place on her waist, she couldn't ignore the overwhelming sense of violation that consumed her. All the emotions and memories that she had carefully tucked away came rushing back in that moment, making her feel as though her boundaries were being crossed once again. 

She realized that she wasn't emotionally prepared for this level of intimacy, especially considering the trauma she had endured. The idea of becoming his wife felt like an insurmountable burden, a commitment she wasn't ready to make. Her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions, trying to process the intensity of the situation. 

The weight of his touch and the pressure of his presence made her heart ache with a mixture of fear and confusion. She knew deep down that she needed more time, more healing, more understanding before she could even begin to consider such a significant commitment. The realization that she was not ready to take this step with him weighed heavily on her, casting a shadow over what could have been a moment of connection.

He maintained his embrace, unwilling to release her. Revelling in the sensation of her lips meeting his own and her body moulded against his, he relished the power and dominance he held over her. Determined to prolong the encounter until he deemed it complete, he kept her close.

She jerked back from him and briskly wiped her lips. She recalled her father's words about her future as a queen.

"A queen—imagine that," he spoke of rights equal to those of a king, of wielding power that could shape destinies. "The weight of a crown, the burden of expectation." She remembered his voice, full of conviction, telling her that she could even hold him accountable if it came to that.

But that fleeting smile lingers in the back of her mind, "I can be a force—if only I embrace what my father believed I could be," she thought to herself and straightened her posture, determination shining in her eyes.