Chapter 4 – A Doomed Wedding
1168 Words
The morning sun rose with a cruel brilliance, as though mocking Seraphina on the day her life would no longer belong to her. Outside, bells tolled in slow, ominous peals that drifted through the air, announcing the wedding of the year—or perhaps the century. But for Seraphina, each sound was a knell, tolling for the death of her freedom.
Her chamber bustled with attendants draping her in silk and pearls, but every layer felt like chains tightening around her body. The gown was exquisite—white satin embroidered with silver thread, heavy with jewels that sparkled like captured stars. Any other woman might have sighed with joy at such beauty, but Seraphina only felt suffocated.
“Lift your chin, my lady,” one of the maids urged softly, adjusting the delicate crown of flowers that adorned her hair.
Her chin did rise, but her heart sank lower still. The mirror reflected an image she could hardly recognize: a bride, radiant and regal, yet with eyes wide with unspoken dread.
Her mother’s voice cut through the flurry of motion. “You will endure, Seraphina. Our family’s survival depends on this union. Remember that.”
Endure. As if that single word could anchor her against the storm that awaited.
The doors to the grand hall opened, and the world’s eyes fell upon her. Guests had gathered from near and far, nobles and dignitaries dressed in their finest, their whispers filling the air like a thousand rustling leaves. Seraphina felt every gaze pierce her, some heavy with pity, others sharp with curiosity, but most glinting with cruel anticipation.
“There she is—the lamb to the s*******r,” a voice hissed from the crowd.
“Poor girl. She won’t last long in the Beast’s den,” another murmured.
She wanted to turn and flee, to rip the gown from her body and run barefoot into the forest beyond the castle walls. But the weight of her family’s debts pressed upon her shoulders. This wedding was not for love, not even for herself. It was payment. Her sacrifice to cover the sins of others.
The aisle stretched endlessly before her, carpeted in crimson velvet, each step dragging her closer to her fate. At the end stood Kael.
He was dressed in black, a stark contrast to her glowing white, his presence commanding even without a word. His broad shoulders carried a mantle of power, and his face—handsome in its sharpness, yet cold as carved stone—gave nothing away. Only his eyes betrayed him: dark, unyielding, and watchful. They locked onto hers, and Seraphina nearly stumbled.
It was as if the whole hall disappeared, leaving only the two of them—bride and groom, prey and predator.
She forced her steps forward until she reached him, her trembling hand placed in his. His grip was firm, unrelenting, as though sealing her fate with that single touch.
The priest began to speak, his voice echoing through the vaulted chamber, solemn and ancient. The words washed over Seraphina, each vow a chain tightening around her wrists, her heart.
“Do you, Lady Seraphina Varun, take Lord Kael Darvesh to be your husband, bound in loyalty and duty, till death parts you?”
The hall held its breath. Whispers fluttered like moths in the silence.
Her lips parted, dry and trembling. She wanted to scream No, to tear away from him, but then she saw her father’s face in the crowd—stern, unyielding, warning. Behind him, her mother’s pale features carried both fear and fragile hope. The debt. The shame. The ruin that would follow if she dared to refuse.
Her voice came out faint, yet clear. “I… do.”
A wave of murmurs swept through the hall. Some pitied her courage. Others sneered at her surrender.
“And do you, Lord Kael Darvesh, take Lady Seraphina Varun to be your wife, bound in loyalty and duty, till death parts you?”
The priest turned to Kael, and the hall leaned forward.
Kael’s gaze never left her. His voice, deep and commanding, rolled through the chamber. “I do.”
No hesitation. No falter. Only certainty, like a sentence passed.
The priest lifted his hands. “Then, by vow and witness, let this marriage be sealed.”
Applause erupted, though half-hearted in places, as though the crowd itself questioned whether they had just witnessed a wedding or a funeral.
Kael leaned down, brushing his lips against her cheek in the faintest of gestures. His breath ghosted her ear. “You are mine now.”
Seraphina’s heart pounded so violently she feared it would burst. His words were not tender, nor romantic—they were a claim, a possession, a declaration of dominance.
The feast that followed blurred before her eyes. Laughter and clinking goblets filled the air, but every sound seemed distant, muffled. She felt the weight of the guests’ stares, their hushed speculation.
“How long before she breaks?”
“Do you think he’ll treat her kindly?”
“Kindness? The Beast has no kindness.”
Seraphina kept her smile painted on like fragile porcelain, though her hands trembled beneath the table. Beside her, Kael ate and drank in silence, unmoved by the spectacle, his very presence enough to keep even the boldest of nobles at bay.
At last, the hour grew late, and the final toasts were given. The guests dispersed, leaving the grand hall empty, save for the two of them.
Kael rose, extending his hand toward her. “Come.”
Her breath caught. She hesitated, every instinct screaming to resist. But resistance was useless. Slowly, she placed her hand in his once more.
He led her through the echoing halls of his estate, each step taking her deeper into the unknown. Torches flickered along the walls, casting long shadows that seemed to swallow her whole.
When they reached the grand doors of his chamber, Seraphina’s chest tightened. This was it—the end of her old life, the beginning of something she could not yet name.
Kael turned, his eyes locking onto hers once again. For a heartbeat, she saw something flicker there—something raw, something human—but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
“You wear fear like a crown,” he said softly, though the edge in his tone made it feel like a warning. “But fear will not serve you here. Strength will.”
Her lips parted, but no words came. She could only stare at him, torn between terror and a strange, unbidden fascination.
The whispers of doom she had heard all day echoed in her mind, but she realized then that her tragic future was not set in stone. It was tied to the man before her—beastly, merciless, yet bound to her now by vows that neither of them could escape.
And as the chamber doors closed behind them, Seraphina knew that whatever fate awaited, there would be no turning back.
- Writer
