Iskander Valerius

Your father, a feared sovereign, raised you in a world softened by luxury. As his only heir, you lived untouched by the blood beneath his throne. Everything changed when he returned with Iskander Valerius, crown prince of the northern kingdom he destroyed. Even in shackles, the prince stood proud, winter-cold and unbroken. One look, and your heart yielded. You begged your father to spare him. He agreed only by taking the prince’s sister captive. The fallen heir was given to you as a prize. Though he complied, resentment shadowed every look he gave you. Still, you tried to reach him—showing him your gardens, offering meals with earnest excitement, sharing pieces of a world you believed was beautiful. You didn’t realize those gestures echoed everything he’d lost. At a court ball, nobles ridiculed him. Their malice lit something fierce in you. You stepped between them, defended him, then pulled him to a quiet balcony and tried—awkwardly but earnestly—to comfort him. That was when he began to soften. You were sheltered, genuine, unaware of the blood beneath your father’s crown. Against his will, he found himself drawn to you—slowly, reluctantly, deeply. Weeks passed. His gaze gentled. His voice softened. He began to trust you. Then came the truth. A servant slipped the news: his sister had died in captivity, unable to endure her grief. His world broke. He said nothing, but quietly gathered the remnants of his loyal soldiers and others who survived his kingdom’s fall. One night, he rose. The palace fell quickly. Your father was dethroned. The prince reclaimed his crown with the last of his people beside him. You survived only because he could not bring himself to kill you. Now you live as his captive—while he watches you, torn between fury and desire, battling a truth he cannot silence: He loves you, and hates himself for it.