Forced to marry the powerful Lycan

Chapter Two _The wedding.

I always knew this day would come the day I would be married off to a Lycan. And not just any Lycan, but the crown prince himself.

My green eyes stared back at me from the towering mirror, its frame carved with golden roses. Dolled up for my wedding, I looked more beautiful than usual, yet I could hardly believe this was actually happening. I wore the traditional attire of my kingdom: a heavy, sweeping white gown adorned with a intricate dragon made of diamonds. Jewels draped across my forehead and hands, sparkling under the candlelight, and my crown sat atop my head. It felt heavier today, as if carrying the true weight of my responsibility.

My fingers coiled into the fabric of my dress, clenching tight. I didn't care if I wrinkled it. I didn’t want to be here, but I didn’t have a choice. Out of everyone, my father had chosen me and he was probably glad to finally be rid of me.

A quiet knock echoed against the heavy wood of the door, making me tense. The hinges creaked as it swung open, and Gloria, my personal maid, stepped inside. Slim, red-haired, and covered in light freckles, she offered me a gentle smile.

"They are ready for you, Your Highness."

I nodded, drying my sweaty palms against the heavy fabric of my skirt. The gown felt like armor as I stood up.

"You look beautiful, milady," Gloria offered softly.

I took a step toward her...

Ripp

I flinched and froze, snapping my gaze downward. The hem of my gown had caught beneath the leg of my chair, tearing cleanly open as I moved.

A sharp gasp escaped my throat.

Gloria rushed over, giving me a reassuring smile. "Nothing a little magic can't fix," she said, raising a hand.

Ah, yes. Magic.

I had almost forgotten. It was a gift every single human in Valen possessed everyone except me. I was the only one born without a single spark.

She waved her hand over the fabric, weaving the threads back together until the tear completely vanished.

"There," Gloria said, looking up with a warm smile. "As good as new".

I nodded at her and took a shaky breath, stepping out of my chambers with Gloria falling in step right behind me. As I walked down the grand corridor toward the stairs, the royal guards snapped to attention, bowing low on either side of me. My stomach churned with nerves. My heart beat so hard against my ribs I was sure they could hear it.

Today’s ceremony was only the first of two weddings. Tradition dictated that the first ceremony take place here, in my home kingdom, while the second would be held in the Lycan realm.

When I reached the towering mahogany wedding doors, my feet felt like lead. Gloria smiled at me and bowed encouraging me foward.

The guards took their positions on both sides, their heavy brass spears echoing against the marble floor as they called out to the room beyond.

"Presenting Her Royal Highness, Princess Ariella of Valen!"

The doors swung open.

Instantly, hundreds of eyes locked onto me. A heavy, stifling silence fell over the cathedral. I could feel the weight of their judgment in the air stares dripping with pity, sharp glints of envy, and cold, unhidden disgust.

To my left, near the front pews, my brothers and sisters were whispering behind their hands, barely hiding their snickers. They looked at me in utter mockery, delighted by my misfortune. Only two of them my younger sister and one brother caught my eye, offering me gentle, encouraging smiles. I drew in a quiet breath, anchored myself to their warmth, and kept walking.

Then, my eyes found him.

My chest tightened. The breath stole right out of my lungs. I had seen a painted portrait of the Lycan Prince before, but it hadn't done him an ounce of justice. He was breathtaking. His long, silver hair fell smoothly past his shoulders, reaching all the way to his waist. His eyes were a deep, shadowy dark, swimming with flecks of molten gold. His face was carved of cold marble, locked in an unreadable expression.

Beside him stood five men his royal guard. Each was equally striking, standing with stone-cold poker faces. Except for one. A red-haired man with bright blue eyes gave me a mischievous, knowing grin as I approached.

On the other side of the altar sat my parents. My mother wore a sad, heartbroken smile, while my father merely sat with a dark frown, looking at me like an investment finally being cashed in.

I reached the altar and automatically lowered myself to bow to my parents the duty ingrained in me since childhood. But before I could kneel, a stern voice cut through the air. One of the men standing beside the prince stepped forward, his tone sharp and unwavering.

"The future Queen of Eldoria bows to no one."

I froze mid-motion, my blood running cold. My father quickly waved it off, trying to save face, but my eyes were drawn back to the prince.

A broad, calloused hand appeared in front of me.

I looked up, meeting his gaze. Looking into his eyes was like staring into a dark, stormy sea, mysterious and suffocating, yet I found myself completely unable to look away.

A quiet clearing of a throat beside us snapped me out of the trance. I blinked, pulling myself together, and placed my hand in his. His palm was shockingly warm against my freezing skin.

Without uttering a single word, he led me up the altar steps to stand beside him. But the moment I was close, his brow furrowed. He let go of my hand, his hand briefly traveling to his nose as if a foul scent had suddenly hit him.

Beside him, his guards noticed the gesture instantly.

We were supposed to kneel together to receive the kingdom's blessing, but my future husband didn't move. Instead, he shot a icy, lethal glare at the high priest. The priest turned pale, immediately taking the hint. Skipping the kneeling ritual entirely, he scrambled to begin the marriage vows.

The ceremony blurred past in a haze of anxiety until the priest finally reached the dreaded words: "You may kiss your bride."

My heart hammered against my ribs. I waited.

The prince merely stood there, staring down at me with cold detachment. He didn't lean in. He didn't touch me. He did nothing

An agonizing, suffocating awkwardness stretched across the hall. Murmurs began to ripple through the crowd. Left with no choice, the priest cleared his throat nervously and raised his hands.

"I now proclaim you husband and wife."

The words had barely left his mouth when my new husband turned on his heel and walked away.

He didn't look back. His five guards fell into line behind him, though the red-haired one lingered just long enough to throw me another small smile.

I stood entirely alone at the altar, the quiet murmurs of the court swelling into hushed laughter and cruel whispers. Heat flooded my cheeks, a deep, burning humiliation washing over me as my husband left me stranded on our wedding aisle.