The Tyrant’s Warrior Bride

The battlefield was chaos.

Flames licked at the broken siege towers, turning the sky into a swirling mass of smoke and ash. Seraphina Varelis stood in the midst of it all, sword in hand, her armor slick with blood—some of it hers, most of it not. The cries of the wounded echoed around her, but she had long since learned to tune them out.

All that mattered was victory.

A Draeven soldier lunged at her from the side, his blade arcing toward her ribs. She twisted, parrying the strike with practiced ease before driving her sword into his chest. The man let out a choked gasp before collapsing, his blood seeping into the mud. Seraphina didn't spare him a second glance.

"Push forward!" she roared, her voice cutting through the battlefield like a whip.

Her soldiers obeyed, their banners slicing through the smoke as they surged toward the enemy line. The Draeven forces were crumbling, their defense faltering under the weight of her relentless assault. One more push, and this war—the war that had claimed too many lives—would finally be over.

Then, the horn sounded.

A deep, resonating note that sent a chill through her bones. It was not the call of victory.

It was a ceasefire.

For a moment, the battle continued, blades clashing, men falling. Then the sound of another horn echoed from the Draeven side. Slowly, like a beast reluctant to rest, the war stilled.

Seraphina's breathing was ragged as she turned, disbelief twisting through her like a blade. From the ridge above, a rider approached—one of her father's royal messengers, his horse foaming at the mouth from the speed of his journey. He reined in beside her, his expression grim.

"Lady Seraphina, the King commands you to withdraw your forces immediately."

"Withdraw?" she repeated, her mind struggling to make sense of the word. They were on the verge of victory. Why stop now?

"The war is over." The messenger swallowed, his face pale beneath his helmet. "A peace treaty has been signed."

Seraphina stared at him, her blood roaring in her ears. Peace? After years of war? After everything they had fought for? It was unthinkable.

"How?" Her voice was sharp with anger. "Draeven would never surrender."

The messenger hesitated, then delivered the final blow. "A marriage alliance has been arranged. Between you… and Prince Kael Draeven."

For the first time in her life, Seraphina felt her sword slip from her fingers.

It landed in the dirt with a dull, final thud.

Seraphina had always thought she'd return home as a conqueror—not as a bargaining chip.

The grand hall of Castle Varelis was filled with nobles, ministers, and foreign envoys. But Seraphina only had eyes for the man standing beside her father—Prince Kael Draeven.

The enemy.

She had fought his soldiers, had driven her blade through the men who swore fealty to him. Now she was expected to stand beside him as his wife?

Her rage burned hotter than any battlefield fire.

"You expect me to marry him?" Seraphina's voice echoed through the hall, sharp as a dagger.

Her father's gaze was firm. "This is the only way to ensure lasting peace, Seraphina."

"Lasting peace?" She let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "After years of war, after everything we've sacrificed, you think a marriage will erase the blood on our hands?"

Her father's expression remained unreadable. "The treaty has been signed. This is not a debate."

Seraphina turned to Kael, her fury cutting through her like a blade.

"And you? You agreed to this?"

Kael Draeven met her gaze with an unsettling calm. His face was unreadable, his silver-gray eyes devoid of warmth. Where she was fire and fury, he was ice and control.

"I do what is necessary." His voice was low, smooth—devoid of emotion.

Seraphina's hands curled into fists. "I will never be your wife."

Kael didn't flinch. If anything, he looked almost bored. "That is not your choice to make."

The weight of those words crushed down on her. She turned to her father, searching for any sign of hesitation, or regret. But the royal decree had already been signed. The decision had been made.

She had no way out.

As Seraphina stormed out of the throne room, her mind raced with thoughts of escape.

"I would rather die than call that man my husband."

Behind her, Kael watched her leave, his expression was unreadable.

"Let her fight it," he thought, the faintest flicker of interest in his gaze. "It will make her surrender all the more satisfying."