A Forced Fate

"A letter arrived from the Duke of Everwyn," Count Alaric said, though his tone remained cold. "He's proposing marriage."

The mention of the Duke's name extinguished whatever hope she had felt. The Duke of Everwyn.

His name alone sent a chill down her spine. The Duke was powerful, yes, but he was also feared. People spoke of him in hushed whispers, and his reputation was far from comforting.

Whatever his reasons for proposing, they were unlikely to be for love or companionship. There had to be something else behind it.

"The Duke of Everwyn?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

She looked up at her father, shaking her head in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. Not THAT Duke.

"I must have heard wrong," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "You don't mean THAT Duke, do you?"

But her father's expression remained as hard as ever. There was no mistake.

"Yes, Seraphina," he said, his tone final. "I mean THAT Duke."

...

The count's quick and unwavering response left Seraphina feeling trapped. The Everwyn family. A family shrouded in dark rumors and ominous whispers.

The gossip about Seraphina herself was nothing compared to the vile stories surrounding the Everwyns.

People spoke in hushed tones, spreading rumors that were enough to make anyone uneasy.

Although the Duke of Everwyn was a duke now, his lineage was said to be tainted. The stories painted him as something far from noble. And despite holding such a high title, he rarely appeared in public, which only added fuel to the fire.

Some said the duke had demon blood running through his veins; others claimed he took pleasure in killing and was haunted by the smell of blood that clung to him no matter how much he washed it off.

The current Duke of Everwyn had already gained a terrifying reputation on the battlefield.

Known as a warrior drenched in blood, even his own allies were afraid of him. The sight of him brought fear to anyone who crossed his path, and the mere mention of his name sent shivers down their spines.

To marry into such a family was like sending Seraphina to her death. How could someone as delicate and frail as she survives in a world that thrives on violence and death?

"I can't marry him!" Seraphina blurted out, her voice trembling with fear.

"You can't? Do you think you have a choice?" Count Alaric's voice boomed through the room, his face turning red with anger.

"Do you think there's a future for you if you reject this match? Do you want to be thrown out, left without money to pay for the medicine that keeps you alive?"

"No. No, it's just…" Seraphina's voice faltered, her resolve crumbling under the weight of her father's fury.

She wanted to argue, to say that perhaps another proposal might come in time. But standing there, facing her father's wrath, she couldn't find the courage to speak those words. Instead, she bit her lip, holding back her protest.

"What then? Are you going to ruin the House of Alaric?" the count demanded, his voice sharp with impatience.

"No…" Seraphina whispered. "I'll get married."

With only one proposal before her, Seraphina knew she had no real choice. Marriage was no longer an option—it was a necessity. The bleak reality of her situation hit her hard.

She could either remain a prisoner in her own room or face death in the arms of a man whose reputation was built on blood and terror.

The count cleared his throat, eyeing his daughter's defeated expression. "Very well. If you succeed in marrying the duke, the prestige of our family will be restored."

His words were cold, devoid of any concern for her well-being. For Count Alaric, it was all about the family's status, and Seraphina was simply the means to an end.

She sighed softly, realizing that her father's ambitions were all that mattered to him. Her feelings, her fears—none of that had any place in his plans.

With that, the preparations for the marriage began, moving forward with swift efficiency. The wedding was arranged hastily, and the date loomed closer with every passing day. A week before the wedding, Seraphina was sent to attend what would be her last banquet as an unmarried woman.

Normally, she would have turned down the invitation, citing her health as an excuse. But this time, things were different. She was being sent as the duke's fiancée, a symbol of the family's rising prestige. It wasn't a choice; it was a duty.

As expected, no one at the banquet approached Seraphina. Even those who were curious about her upcoming marriage to the fearsome Duke of Everwyn kept their distance.

They preferred to gossip from afar, whispering among themselves, rather than engage with her directly. As the night wore on, people danced and laughed, paying her no attention at all.

"Huh," Seraphina sighed quietly, standing alone amid the revelry. Her entire life had been dictated by others, from her birth to her marriage. Every decision had been made for her, and it was painfully clear that this pattern would continue. She didn't even have the right to choose her own future, let alone her own husband.

With another sigh, she excused herself from the bustling hall and slipped out onto a quiet terrace. The cool night air was a welcome relief from the suffocating atmosphere inside. She leaned against the railing, shivering slightly as the cold marble floor sent a chill through her thin shoes.

After tonight, her life would be consumed by wedding preparations once again. She was already tired of it all—tired of the endless gifts piling up in her room, tired of the expectations weighing on her shoulders.

'I wish I had just one thing I could decide,' Seraphina thought, her heart heavy with the burden of her fate.

As if in answer to her unspoken wish, a heavy coat was suddenly draped over her shoulders, shielding her from the cold breeze. Startled by the unexpected warmth, she looked up to see a man standing beside her.