Chapter Three :The King’s Bride
1500 Words
The entire kingdom learned of the proposal before sunset.
By evening, the streets of Noctaryn buzzed with whispers sharp enough to cut through stone walls.
The king had chosen a bride.
Not a princess from a powerful empire.
Not the daughter of a noble bloodline blessed by the court.
But a strange girl from House Vale.
A silver-haired girl.
A cursed-looking girl.
A girl no one had ever heard the king speak to before.
Rumors spread like wildfire.
Some called her lucky.
Others called her doomed.
Most pitied her.
Because everyone knew one thing about King Lucien D’Arcy, nothing touched him without being consumed eventually.
And now his attention had settled upon Seraphina Vale.
.....
Inside the estate, chaos reigned.
Servants rushed endlessly through hallways carrying fabrics, jewelry, measuring tapes, perfumes, gloves, ribbons, silk stockings, and boxes overflowing with precious stones. Voices echoed from every corner of the manor while her stepmother barked orders with near manic excitement.
“Not that gown, are you blind?” she snapped at one maid. “The ivory silk! The imported one!”
“But madam, that fabric was reserved for Lady Elara...”
“And now it belongs to the future queen.”
The words still felt unreal.
Future queen.
Seraphina sat silently near the vanity while two maids brushed her hair with trembling hands.
Neither woman spoke directly to her.
But they whispered constantly when they thought she could not hear.
“The king must truly desire her.”
“Or perhaps he plans to kill her after the wedding.”
“Hush..”
“It’s true. Why else would he choose her?”
Seraphina lowered her gaze.
That same thought had haunted her all night.
Why her?
No matter how many times she replayed their encounter in her mind, she could not understand it.
Kings did not become interested in girls like her.
Especially kings surrounded by beautiful noblewomen willing to throw themselves at his feet.
And yet he had sent enough wealth to buy entire provinces.
Enough to make her family look at her differently overnight.
That hurt more than she expected.
Because suddenly, after years of cruelty, she was being treated carefully.
Not kindly.
Never kindly.
But carefully.
Like something valuable.
Something fragile.
Something profitable.
Her stomach twisted painfully.
“Lift your chin,” the older maid instructed nervously.
Seraphina obeyed immediately.
The woman stared at her reflection briefly before sighing softly.
“You truly are beautiful enough to start wars,” she whispered before realizing she had spoken aloud.
The younger maid beside her quickly muttered a prayer beneath her breath.
As though beauty itself was dangerous.
Perhaps it was.
A sudden knock sounded at the bedroom door.
Then her stepmother entered without waiting.
The woman stopped immediately upon seeing Seraphina fully prepared.
For a moment—
just a moment—
something strange crossed her expression.
Not affection.
But shock.
Because Seraphina looked ethereal tonight.
Silver hair cascading down pale silk.
Blue eyes glowing softly beneath candlelight.
She did not resemble a human girl.
She looked like a creature from old myths.
The realization clearly unsettled her stepmother because her expression hardened instantly afterward.
“The royal tailor arrives shortly,” she said briskly. “You will behave properly.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Her stepmother’s eyes narrowed slightly at the title.
Seraphina almost never called her that.
But before the woman could respond, another servant rushed into the room breathlessly.
“Madam, the ministers have arrived.”
Silence fell instantly.
Seraphina frowned faintly.
Ministers?
Why would royal ministers come personally?
Her stepmother looked equally startled.
“They’re here already?”
The servant nodded nervously.
“They said they carry orders directly from the palace.”
Something cold slid slowly down Seraphina’s spine.
...
The royal ministers arrived like a storm wrapped in silk and silver.
Four men dressed in black formal coats entered the estate with enough guards surrounding them to make the servants visibly tremble.
Even Seraphina’s father looked nervous greeting them.
But one figure immediately drew everyone’s attention.
A tall man stood slightly behind the others, dressed entirely in black.
Silver gloves.
Sharp eyes.
Cold expression.
He looked younger than the other ministers, yet somehow far more dangerous.
The air itself seemed quieter around him.
Seraphina felt uneasy the moment she saw him.
His gaze found her instantly.
And lingered.
Not with admiration.
Assessment.
Like someone studying a problem.
A faint chill spread through her chest.
“Lady Seraphina Vale,” one minister greeted politely. “We bring gifts and preparations on behalf of His Majesty.”
Her stepmother nearly glowed with pride.
Meanwhile Seraphina could barely breathe beneath the weight of the silver-eyed stranger’s stare.
“You may call me Alistair Crowe,” he said finally.
His voice was smooth.
Controlled.
Dangerously unreadable.
“The king’s advisor.”
Something in the room shifted subtly after those words.
Even her father straightened immediately.
Everyone knew that name.
Alistair Crowe.
The man closest to the king.
The only man rumored to have seen the king’s true face.
Some even whispered he was more terrifying than Lucien himself.
Seraphina lowered her gaze instinctively.
“It is an honor.”
Alistair studied her carefully.
Too carefully.
Then quietly.
“The king has excellent taste.”
Her stepmother laughed nervously.
But Seraphina felt strangely unsettled by the statement.
Not because of the compliment.
Because Alistair sounded concerned.
As though the king’s interest in her troubled him deeply.
Servants soon filled the hall carrying even more gifts behind the ministers.
Jewelry cases overflowing with diamonds.
Hand-embroidered gowns stitched with silver thread.
Rare perfumes from southern kingdoms.
Shoes lined with pearls.
Silks softer than clouds.
There were even cages containing exotic white birds with shimmering feathers.
Seraphina stared at everything in disbelief.
It was too much.
Far too much.
Her family looked equally overwhelmed.
Her father had never seen this kind of wealth in his entire life.
Neither had her stepmother.
Greed radiated from them both now.
Openly.
Hungrily.
“His Majesty wishes Lady Seraphina to want for nothing,” one minister explained proudly.
Seraphina’s chest tightened painfully.
Nobody had ever cared whether she lacked things before.
Nobody had ever looked at her and thought:
She deserves comfort.
The realization almost hurt.
A servant suddenly entered carrying another object carefully wrapped in black velvet.
The entire room quieted instantly.
Even Alistair looked toward it.
“What is that?” her stepmother asked breathlessly.
The servant approached Seraphina directly before kneeling.
“A personal gift from His Majesty.”
Seraphina hesitated before slowly pulling back the velvet cloth.
And immediately the room filled with silver light.
A necklace rested inside.
No.
Not merely a necklace.
It looked ancient.
Delicate silver chains wrapped around a moonstone unlike anything Seraphina had ever seen. The gem glowed faintly beneath the candlelight, almost alive within its intricate setting.
Beautiful.
Terrifyingly beautiful.
The moment her fingers brushed it, something sharp pulsed through her chest.
Seraphina inhaled suddenly.
The room blurred for half a second.
And somewhere deep inside her mind, she heard whispers.
Soft.
Ancient.
Unfamiliar.
She jerked her hand back instantly.
The light vanished.
Nobody else seemed to notice.
Except Alistair.
His expression darkened immediately.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
“You should wear it,” he said quietly.
Seraphina looked at him uneasily.
“It feels… strange.”
The room went silent.
Her stepmother quickly forced a laugh.
“She is overwhelmed, of course.”
But Alistair did not look away from Seraphina.
And for the first time since arriving he looked worried.
...
That night, far away within the palace, Lucien sat alone in the throne room.
Darkness wrapped around him like a living thing.
The kingdom slept beneath his feet while candlelight flickered weakly against towering black pillars.
Yet his thoughts remained fixed on one person.
Seraphina.
He had spent the entire day pretending indifference while the bond between them slowly tightened.
Every hour she grew closer to the palace he felt it.
Faintly.
Like moonlight pressing against shadow.
A dangerous ache spread quietly through his chest.
He hated how much he wanted to see her again.
Wanted to hear her voice again.
Wanted to know whether she was frightened.
Whether she had smiled.
Whether anyone there had hurt her.
The shadows beneath the throne twisted violently.
Possessive.
Lucien exhaled slowly.
“This is becoming a problem.”
A soft laugh echoed suddenly from the darkness.
Not mocking.
Amused.
Lucien’s gaze sharpened instantly.
A figure slowly emerged near the throne room entrance.
Tall.
Elegant.
Wrapped in pale robes.
Silver eyes glowing faintly beneath candlelight.
Unlike Lucien’s shadows, this presence felt cold and ancient.
Dangerous in a completely different way.
“Well,” the stranger murmured softly. “It seems the prophecy has finally begun.”
Lucien’s expression darkened instantly.
“You should not be here.”
“Neither should she,” the man replied calmly.
Silence fell heavily between them.
Then the stranger smiled faintly.
And somehow, that smile felt like the beginning of disaster.
- Writer
