-𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗘𝗡𝗦𝗛𝗔 𝗠𝗢𝗛𝗔𝗕𝗕𝗔𝗧-

The fire crackled behind her, its heat pressing against her back. The weight of tradition crushed her shoulders, drowning her in terror.

Tears blurred her vision as she clutched the silk of her red bridal dress, her henna-stained hands trembling. She was only 𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏 -a widow before she could even understand what marriage meant. Her husband, an old man who died the morning after their wedding.

--𝐍𝐨𝐰,𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰. 𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧. 𝐓𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐞--

"No..." she whispered, shaking her head as the priest raised his hand.

"Step forward, child. Accept your fate."

Her knees buckled. No one spoke for her. No one moved.
And then-

A sharp gust of wind tore through the courtyard.

The massive iron doors slammed open, the torches flickering wildly as heavy boots echoed against the stone. A dark figure strode inside, his presence suffocating.

Gasps filled the air. The guards stepped back.

She blinked through her tears, heart pounding. Who...?

"This ends now," the deep, authoritative voice rang out. Cold. Commanding. Terrifying.

The high priest faltered. "R-Raja Sa 𝑨𝒂𝒑??, this is our sacred tra-"

"This?" The stranger's voice dripped with mockery. His gaze swept over the gathered nobles, sharp as a blade. "This is murder disguised as honor."

The girl flinched, gripping her hands together. She still couldn't see his face clearly-the night was too dark, and the torches cast only fractured light over his strong frame.

Then, in front of everyone, he declared-

"A widow cannot burn if she is no longer a widow." His fingers tightened around hers. "From this moment on, she is mine."

The silence was deafening. The world spun beneath her feet.

Who was this man? And why did the entire court fear him?
__

Her savior was the most feared ruler in the land.

And she? She was now his Queen.