I Got Married to a Yandere Queen

The air in the chamber grew thick and heavy, saturated with the mingling scents of sweat and rose oil that clung to their heated skin. Short, ragged breaths punctuated the silence as Ashtoria slowly withdrew her glistening fingers from Riven's mouth. A thin strand of saliva stretched between his parted lips and her fingertips before finally breaking with a soft, wet sound that seemed unnaturally loud in the charged atmosphere.

"Riven..."

Her voice flowed like warm honey, sweet yet laced with something darker beneath the surface. Her damp palm slid along the column of his throat, fingers tracing the prominent veins that pulsed beneath flushed skin. Deliberately, she dragged the sharp edges of her nails across the sensitive flesh, leaving faint pink trails that bloomed across his neck like delicate brushstrokes.

Riven's breath hitched sharply when Ashtoria suddenly pulled back, only to immediately redirect her attention downward. Her hand pressed firmly against the hard outline visible through the fabric of his trousers, the unexpected contact making his entire body jerk.

His teeth clenched as a strangled sound escaped his throat. The normally composed expression on Ashtoria's face had transformed into something disturbingly curious—her ruby eyes alight with keen interest as she studied each involuntary twitch of his muscles, each rapid flutter of his pulse.

"A-Asha..." His voice cracked slightly, edged with both panic and something else. "Why... how did you learn to...?"

Ashtoria tilted her head slightly, then smiled - a deceptively sweet expression that somehow made his heart pound harder. "I just want you to like me," she murmured, as casually as discussing the weather. "To never want to leave me."

The simple statement hung between them as Riven's mind raced with unanswered questions. How could she be so certain? Did she not care about his origins? His flaws? His weaknesses? The thoughts swirled like a storm as he fought against both the physical restraints and his own traitorous body.

"Asha," he managed, voice strained. "Please... these chains..."

For a brief moment, she seemed to consider. Then, with quiet finality:

"No."

The refusal came swift and absolute.

"I won't."

She leaned closer, her warm breath ghosting across his fevered skin. "What would happen if I did?" she whispered, the sweetness of her tone belying the steel beneath. "Would you stay?" Her fingers applied deliberate pressure, drawing another choked sound from him. "Or would you run?"

The words hung in the air like a double-edged sword—a threat disguised as a confession. Riven was stunned, not just by the sharpness of her words, but by the subtle tremor in Ashtoria's voice, a voice that was usually colder than frost.

Suddenly, a rough, broken laugh escaped his throat. It was a strange sound—half a laugh, half a choke. He was laughing at himself, at how pathetic he had become. Normally, he was a man who never cared what others thought of him, someone who never questioned his place in the world.

But in front of Ashtoria...

In front of a woman with eyes red like fresh blood, hair that flared like living fire, a presence powerful enough to bring down stone fortresses with a flick of her hand—before someone so beautiful, so formidable, and so devastatingly strong, all of his confidence crumbled into dust. Riven became someone else. Someone who constantly questioned whether he was worthy.

"You really are driving me insane, Asha."

Riven's voice cracked. It was deeper than usual, more honest than anything he'd ever allowed himself to say.

Ashtoria looked at him, and though her face remained as perfect and still as porcelain—no wrinkles, no twitch of muscle—her heart pounded so hard she could hear its echo in her ears. Every time he said that name, "Asha," it struck her spine like lightning.

Riven leaned forward. The chains above him creaked as the cold metal scraped against his reddened skin.

"Set me free, Asha. I would never run from you."

"How can I trust your words?"

Ashtoria's voice trembled ever so slightly, like a thin sheet of ice beginning to crack under the warmth of spring. There was something fragile behind her usual firm tone.

Riven drew a deep breath, filling his lungs with the room's cold air. He could smell her—roses, mixed with something sharper, like lightning before a storm.

"Because I love you."

In that moment, time stopped for Ashtoria.

She froze, every sense dulling except for the roar of her heartbeat, now pounding so fiercely it felt painful. She had imagined this moment many times—in dreams she never admitted, not even to herself. She thought she'd leap with joy, maybe even destroy half the castle in the chaos of her emotions.

But reality...

She couldn't move.

And then, without warning, something warm slid down her cheek. Tears. Something so unfamiliar, so foreign she didn't even recognize it at first.

After revealing the feelings he had kept hidden for so long, Riven turned his gaze to the side. He kept speaking, his voice rough and dry.

"I'll never run from you. If I do… you can catch me, lock me up. I won't resist—"

His words cut off as he glanced back at Ashtoria's face.

In front of him, she was smiling.

But tears still streamed down her pale cheeks, soaking the fine black fabric of her dress. Her expression was a complex blend—a small, genuine smile that looked fragile, eyes usually brimming with certainty now glistening with tears, and her brows slightly furrowed as if trying to grasp something too vast to comprehend.

Without thinking, Riven reached out to wipe her tears away, but the chains reminded him of his limits, clattering with a harsh metallic noise.

Then—

CLANG!

In a flash too fast for the human eye to follow, Ashtoria shattered the restraints binding Riven's wrists. The metal burst apart like glass, fragments scattering across the floor in a rain of sharp silver.

Her hands, usually cold and smooth like marble, were now pressed against her own chest. Her slender fingers clutched the fabric of her gown just above her pounding heart.

Riven slowly rose to a sitting position. Their faces were now so close. Ashtoria was still sitting in his lap, but the fire from before had softened—transformed into something deeper, more tender.

Now free, his fingers moved gently to touch the tears on her cheek. His touch was featherlight, as if afraid she might shatter.

"Why are you crying?"

Ashtoria shook her head slightly. Her lips, usually so fluent and commanding, could not form a single word. Even she didn't understand what was happening inside her.

Riven leaned in until their foreheads touched, their noses brushing softly. At this distance, her crimson eyes reflected his brown ones—like mirrors revealing the depths of each other's souls, incapable of hiding anything.

The air between them felt hot, but it was no longer the searing heat of desire. It was something warmer, gentler. Like the slow-burning fire of a hearth, offering comfort rather than consuming flame.