The days following her first meeting with Azrael felt like a blur to Hazel. Every moment since then seemed to be steeped in tension, the air thick with the weight of what was to come. She had spent years preparing for a marriage, but never had she imagined that it would be to a man as dangerous and mysterious as Azrael. Her thoughts spiraled as the wedding day approached, the gravity of her situation sinking deeper into her chest with each passing hour.
The palace was already buzzing with preparations. Servants hurried through the halls, attending to the smallest details, while nobles and royalty gathered in the palace to witness the union of the Seventh Prince, rumored to be the Devil's son, and the princess of the Kingdom. For the first time in her life, Hazel felt like a mere object—a pawn in a twisted game where no one cared what she wanted or what she felt.
As the morning of the wedding arrived, Hazel was led to her chambers to begin the preparations. Her attendants fussed over her, pulling and tugging at her gown, adjusting her hair, and applying delicate touches of makeup that only served to accentuate her beauty. But as the final touches were made, Hazel couldn't shake the sense of dread that settled in her stomach. Her reflection in the mirror was foreign to her—she was no longer just the princess of the kingdom, but a bride to a man she didn't even know.
She had never wanted this life. She had never asked for it. Hazel had always dreamed of freedom—of walking outside the palace walls, of speaking her mind, of choosing her own destiny. But now, those dreams were as distant as the stars.
The moment the bridal gown was fastened, the reality of what was happening hit her with full force. The dress, a beautiful creation of white satin and silver thread, seemed almost too pure for the dark fate that awaited her. It was an intricate design, one that clung to her body and cascaded in layers down to the floor, its train a long, heavy reminder of the weight she carried.
As she gazed at herself in the mirror, Hazel felt as though she was looking at someone else entirely. She hardly recognized the woman staring back at her. A woman who was about to marry a prince so shrouded in mystery and danger that even the most seasoned courtiers trembled at the mention of his name.
The doors to her chamber opened, and her father, King Gaius, entered. His face was set in a stern, unreadable expression, his eyes dark with the weight of his own thoughts. Hazel barely registered his presence as he stepped closer, his gaze briefly flicking over her appearance.
"You look… beautiful," he said in a voice that was almost mechanical, as if the words were forced out. Hazel didn't respond. The king had never been a man of warmth or affection, and today was no different. To him, this marriage was just another political alliance, a transaction to solidify his power.
"You are about to make history today, Hazel," the king continued, his voice betraying a hint of pride. "This union will elevate our kingdom to heights we have never seen before. You should be proud."
Hazel's heart twisted at his words. She wanted to scream that she didn't want this—that she didn't want to be used as a pawn in his game of power. But there was no room for defiance in this life, not now. Not with everything that was at stake.
The king's expression softened slightly as he gave a slight nod. "It is time," he said, his eyes finally meeting hers. "Your future begins today."
Hazel's heart sank as she followed him down the long corridor, her steps heavy as they echoed in the silence. The halls of the palace, once filled with light and laughter, now seemed dark and oppressive. Every step she took brought her closer to the altar, closer to the moment where she would bind herself to a man who embodied all that she feared.
The wedding chamber was grand, filled with noble guests, all dressed in their finest attire, murmuring among themselves in hushed tones. At the far end of the room, on a raised platform, stood a large altar, adorned with dark, velvety red roses. The atmosphere was thick with tension—no one spoke of it aloud, but everyone knew that this was no ordinary wedding.
At the altar stood Azrael, tall and imposing, dressed in dark ceremonial robes that seemed to absorb the light. His eyes were locked on Hazel the moment she entered the room, and she felt a chill run down her spine. There was no warmth in his gaze, no comfort in the way he looked at her. He was a man who didn't care about love or affection. His gaze was calculating, like a predator watching its prey.
Hazel's heart pounded in her chest as she approached the altar. She was barely aware of the murmur of voices or the soft music playing in the background. All she could hear was the sound of her own breath, quick and shallow. She barely noticed the priest who stood before them, reciting the ancient vows of marriage, his voice a distant echo in her mind.
Azrael's hand was extended, and when she took it, his fingers felt cold—unnervingly cold, like the touch of death itself. He didn't speak as he led her to stand beside him, but Hazel could feel the weight of his presence, pressing down on her. The air between them was thick with tension, thick with the dark history they shared, though neither of them spoke of it.
The vows were spoken—words that felt empty, hollow. There was no love between them, only duty, only the binding of fates neither of them could escape. When it came time for the kiss, Hazel braced herself, her heart hammering in her chest. Azrael leaned forward, his lips brushing hers in a cold, almost mechanical kiss. The moment his lips touched hers, a shiver ran through her, like a bolt of lightning. His kiss was everything she feared—a taste of darkness, a promise of a future she couldn't control.
As he pulled away, the room erupted into applause, but Hazel couldn't hear the cheers. All she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat, racing, frantic. She was married now, bound to Azrael, the son of the Devil, a prince who would never love her. A man who would never let her go.
The wedding was over, but the real test had only just begun. The darkness that surrounded Azrael, that seemed to pulse in the very air they breathed, would be with her forever now.
And Hazel knew—there was no turning back.