Blood Bound to Drathmor

Chapter five

The blood binder’s voice reached me from afar. Like my head was under water. They spoke of words older than crowns, words that sounded groin and important and absolutely nothing like my life.

I wanted to cry and scream and pull down every single curtain and dead flowers on the aisles. But my mouth stayed close, with my feet glued to the ground. I did nothing.

“By laws older than the crown and throne,” he said, voice stripped of mercy. “You stand not as lovers, but as faith’s answer to war.”

Then they turned to me.

Every eye followed. I felt them on my skin, heavy, curious and judging. Mother, his father, Thalia and Mira, witnesses.

“Do you stand before this blood and this kingdom, to be bound in name, in body, and in silence? To bear his mark as shield and chain alike, to walk beside him whether in shadow or fire, until death loosens what blood has sealed?”

The words pressed into my chest like stone. There was no will you, only do you stand.

I just stood. My chest tightened suddenly and I thought I might choke. My hands were cold and pale, my knees threatened to give away. I opened my mouth, and for a heartbeat nothing came out. I was terrified that if I didn’t speak, someone would speak for me. Or worse, they would force the words out anyway.

“I do.” I said, my voice sounded like something that was breaking.

The binder turned to Xavier.

“Do you accept this bond not as a gift, but as duty? To claim her name, her oath, and her fate as your own? To keep her under your protection and your command, to answer for her blood as you would your own, until eternity itself denies you?”

“I accept.” He said, his voice steady and unfeeling.

I didn’t look at him, I couldn’t. His voice didn’t shake. It was calm and precise.

When the blade appeared, my stomach twisted. It was old, dark, heavy with history I wanted no part of.

“Then let blood remember what hearts may forget.”

Our palms were cut. Our hands met. Blood touched blood. I felt it then, not magic exactly, but weight. Like something invisible had wrapped itself around my ribs and tightened. My heart stumbled, then continued beating to a rhythm that no longer felt entirely my own.The Binder spoke the final words, each one a seal.

“From this breath to your last, you are no longer whole alone.”

“What one wounds, the other bears.”

“What one claims, the other cannot flee.”

“Rise,” the Binder said softly. “Not as two… but as bound.”

With each sentence, something was added to me that I hadn’t agreed to carry. With each sentence, something was taken away. When they said we were no longer whole alone, I understood it fully. I would never belong only to myself again.The hall remained silent. No joy. No warmth. Just the heavy, suffocating stillness of something finished.I stood there, bound, breathing, numb.And as I looked around at the black-clad figures, at the cold stone walls, at the man who was now my husband in name and blood, one thought burned through the emptiness.

This is what it feels like to be sacrificed while still alive.

The silence did not break gently. It fractured. I couldn’t move. Rooted to the spot, I felt broken from inside out. Blood from my palm dropped gently from the floor. Amidst the silent chatter in the hall, I could hear it loudly. I could sense every mortal's fear and surprise. But nobody could sense my numbness. Footsteps echoed first. Soft, measured, indifferent. The sound of ceremony ending and function beginning. Someone moved to my side. I did not look. I did not need to.

A hand touched my elbow.

“This way, my lady.”

The words were formal. As if they had been waiting to use them. As if I had already belonged to the title before the bond sealed it into my blood.

I did not turn to my mother. There was nothing left to see. But my sight quickly caught Mira. She took two steps forward towards me but mother held her hand to stop her. Then she released that weak smile. She always had when mother punished me in claims of making me stronger.

I stepped forward. My body obeyed before my mind could protest.

The ones who wanted to look at me did. The ones who didn’t, did not. Some were in group, whispering slowly as their gaze tore between all the royals. Probably wondering why Queen Althea Nymerra of Varrkyr would comfortably hand her daughter over to death.

As I was led away I felt an unfamiliar pull low and constant. Not pain, just awareness of another present stitched into the quiet of my being. I did not touch him, didn’t speak to him either. I just followed the maid quietly out of the hall.

No one followed us. No one said goodbye. And just like that, I was delivered into demise.