[Lior's POV—On the Road to Skeldryn—Before Sunrise]
WHOOSH—
The wind struck my face like it had a personal grudge.
Cold bit into my cheeks, sharp and merciless, as if the North itself were mocking my situation. And I—unfortunate, unimportant me—was wrapped like a cocoon in a monster's arms, bound by fur, iron strength, and the steady rise and fall of a chest that did not tremble the way mine did.
My heart thundered like colliding storm clouds, loud and chaotic in my ears.
I wasn't just shaking from fear; I was freezing. Which felt unfair, considering I was wrapped in enough fur to clothe a small bear.
Unfortunately, none of that padding did anything for my dignity—or my backside, because my butt hurts...like hell.
But I wasn't about to complain about saddle pain while being actively kidnapped by the Monster of the North. I valued my life just enough not to test fate that much, and yet I couldn't stop crying.
"Sniff… sniff… sniff…"
The sound escaped me before I could stop it.
I hated it.
I hated that I was crying. Quietly. Pathetically. Like the world had finally taken a hammer to the last thing holding me together.
I had never imagined this—being dragged away like this, in the dark, from my own home, even if that place had never truly been home.
It was still… where I lived.
"If you continue crying," a voice said calmly above me, "I will feed you to the red wolves."
I flinched violently and disappeared further into the fur, muffling my face as if that could erase the sound.
"I—am not—crying," I mumbled thickly.
Silence followed, heavy and deliberate. I peeked out just enough to see him glance down at me—not irritated, not amused.
Assessing.
Then he spoke again.
"I will say this once," he said, voice low and even, each word measured as if carved from stone. "So make sure you understand it. Whether you like it or not is irrelevant."
My breath caught.
I nodded quickly, barely daring to look at him. Up close, in the thin light before dawn, he looked even more monstrous—not because of scars or deformity, but because of the complete absence of doubt in him.
"…Yes...sir...," I whispered.
The horses continued forward, hooves crunching against frozen earth, breath steaming in pale clouds. The world felt empty—no birds, no morning sounds. Just cold and motion and inevitability.
"From this moment onward," he continued, "you will exist as the next Grand Duchess of House Morvael."
The words hit harder than the wind.
I stiffened.
"Even though you are a man," he added without pause, "I do not care for such distinctions. I do not rule by tradition. I rule by will."
He glanced at me then—really looked; his silver eyes were dark, intimidating, and wholly unyielding.
"And...you must have realized by now, your breath," he said calmly. "Your lips, your eyes, and...your entire life will belong to me."
My fingers clenched into the fur.
"If you attempt to flee," he went on, tone unchanged, "I will hunt you, chain you, and even if you try to flee again and again...I will end your life because I cannot allow what is mine to be taken."
My stomach dropped.
"So obey," he said softly. "It will keep you alive."
And at that time, our gazes locked. Silver met blue, but it more felt like ice spreading across water—slow, inevitable, claiming the surface inch by inch while everything beneath it went still.
I could not fight it.
I could only exist beneath it.
My throat tightened. My eyes burned. I lowered my gaze, fingers curling into the fur as though it were the only thing keeping me from shattering.
"…Yes," I whispered.
The north wind howled around us, sharp and relentless, carrying with it the scent of frost and iron. The road stretched onward, swallowing the last traces of familiarity behind me, pulling me farther and farther away from the only place that had ever pretended to want me—straight into the arms of a monster who had decided I was worth keeping.
"We have reached," he said.
The words were simple and final. I lifted my head despite myself and froze.
The sun was rising.
Pale gold light spilled across the horizon, cutting through the gray of dawn—and there, rising from the snow-covered mountains like something carved from the land itself, stood Morvael Castle.
My breath caught.
Its towers pierced the sky, dark stone veined with frost, banners heavy with the red wolf crest stirring slowly in the wind. Snow blanketed its walls and battlements, yet the sight of it—looming, immovable—felt strangely… warmer than the road behind us.
Not gentle warmth.
Protective warmth.
The kind that promises survival but never kindness. My eyes brightened despite the fear coiled tight in my chest.
'So this was Skeldryn, the North.'
As we approached the border gates, armored guards snapped to attention. The moment they recognized him, they moved without hesitation—chains rattling as the gates were thrown open wide, the massive doors groaning as if bowing under his authority.
No questions, no delay.
Only obedience.
The horse's hooves echoed as we crossed the threshold, stone giving way beneath us. Inside the walls, the air felt heavier, charged with something ancient and watchful.
Voices rose as one.
"Welcome back, Lord Morvael."
I stiffened at the sound.
Dozens of knights knelt, fists pressed to their chests, heads bowed deeply as he passed. Their armor gleamed darkly in the morning light, red wolves emblazoned proudly over their hearts.
No one looked at me, not directly, but I felt their awareness all the same—sharp, curious, and restrained.
The monster did not slow, did not acknowledge the greeting beyond a slight incline of his head, and with that single, subtle gesture, the fortress of Skeldryn accepted him—accepted us.
As the gates closed behind us with a deep, resonant boom, the sound echoed through my bones.
The road back was gone. I clutched the fur tighter around myself, heart pounding as realization settled in, heavy and undeniable.
I had crossed the border, and there would be no leaving Skeldryn the same person who entered it.
Not now.
Not ever.
***
[Later—Morvael Castle]
The moment the horse came to a halt, the monster dismounted, and before my feet could even think of touching the ground, his arms were already around me.
Strong and Certain.
He lifted me effortlessly, as if I weighed nothing at all. I stiffened instinctively, my hands clutching the fur as the world tilted. Snow crunched beneath his boots, but I never felt it. I was carried instead—high, secure, and utterly powerless.
"Prepare the hot bath," he ordered.
His voice echoed through the courtyard like a decree.
The attendants bowed instantly and scattered, moving with practiced urgency, heads lowered, eyes carefully averted. No one questioned him. No one even hesitated.
I was being carried into the castle, like a bride. The thought struck me suddenly—sharp and wrong.
Except I wasn't a bride; I was stolen. A thing taken, wrapped, and delivered. I felt like a doll—fragile, decorative, and owned.
I glanced up at him, nerves tightening my throat. "Um… sir… I—I can walk."
He didn't look at me, didn't slow, and just said, "Stay still."
Two words. Flat and absolute.
I froze at once, my mouth snapping shut before another sound could escape. My body obeyed before my mind caught up, fear settling deep in my bones.
The castle doors opened. Warm air rushed out, heavy with the scent of burning wood and stone—but it did nothing to ease the chill inside me. If anything, the contrast made it worse.
I didn't know where he was taking me, and that terrified me more than the cold ever had. I pressed my cheek briefly against the fur, eyes stinging.
'This isn't real,' I told myself weakly. 'This can't be real.'
No one gets kidnapped over a kiss, a reckless and meaningless kiss.
And yet—Father, Elara, the knights, and the servants.
Gone.
The house emptied overnight, as though it had never truly existed. Something had happened while I was locked away.
Something terrible, and somehow… I had been the solution, or worse—the offering.
The corridor stretched long and silent as he carried me deeper into the castle. The stone beneath the rugs radiated cold, the walls were tall and unadorned, swallowing sound. No laughter. No warmth. Just echoes and obedience.
Every step took me farther from anything familiar.
Farther from myself.
At last, he stopped; a door loomed before us. Heavy and dark. He pushed it open, and then—THUD.
The door shut behind us with a final, bone-deep sound.
The lock slid home; the room was cold and dim. Empty, save for shadows clinging to the corners like watchful things. I stood there in his arms, breath shallow, heart aching with a pain that felt older than fear.
This was it.
The cage.
I didn't know how I would be treated here. Kindly or cruelly, gently or harshly. I didn't know what he expected of me.
I didn't know what my future held—because when I looked ahead, there was nothing.
No path.No choice.No shape.
Just darkness.
And the terrible certainty that whatever I was becoming—it was no longer mine to decide.