Sélène Magenta moved slowly through the long corridors of the family estate, her armor adorned with silver arabesques reflecting the light of the chandeliers above. Each step echoed with a weight that had nothing to do with her equipment. Today marked the end of her freedom.
Since childhood, she had fought to build a reputation, exceeding expectations and shattering prejudices. Her combat skills had earned her the nickname "The Thorned Flower," a title she bore with pride. Being a woman and achieving the rank of a six-star knight was a remarkable feat, but it had never been enough for her parents. To them, her future was not to be decided on the battlefield but within the comforts of an arranged marriage.
Her gloved fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword. She was nothing but a pawn. A mere tool meant to strengthen the ties between her family and a more prestigious lineage. Today, she had been summoned to be presented at the Draven Manor. Her father sought to seal an alliance with Kael Draven, the renowned holy knight.
Kael. His name was not unfamiliar to her. He had achieved great feats and enjoyed a dazzling reputation. But that was not what troubled her. What she feared was the fact that he already had multiple wives. And her father, blinded by political opportunity, intended to offer her as nothing more than a mere concubine.
A shiver of defiance ran down her spine. She wanted to be free. To fight. To prove her worth on the battlefield. Not to be locked into a role she had never chosen.
But could she escape her fate?
Her gaze drifted through the corridor window. On the horizon, the sky was tinged with a crimson hue. As if the sun itself knew that today would mark the end of something.
And perhaps… the beginning of something else.
The carriage moved slowly along the paved road leading to Draven Manor. Inside, Sélène remained still, her hands resting on her knees, her gaze fixed on the passing landscape. The trees blurred under the golden twilight, but she saw none of its beauty.
Seated across from her, her mother, Lady Eleonore Magenta, observed her daughter with a cold, calculating expression.
"You've had that look on your face since this morning, Sélène," she finally said.
The young knight barely turned her eyes toward her.
"Do I have any reason to be pleased?"
An exasperated sigh escaped her mother's lips.
"You should feel honored. A holy knight, from the great Draven lineage… This is not an opportunity one refuses."
Sélène clenched her fists.
"An opportunity for whom? Certainly not for me."
Her mother narrowed her eyes.
"You were born a Magenta, Sélène. Your strength does not belong to you. It belongs to your family, to our name. And today, your duty is to secure our future."
Sélène looked away. These words—she had heard them all her life. Your strength belongs to your family. As if everything she had accomplished, every battle won, every opponent defeated, meant nothing outside of the name she bore.
"And if I refuse?" she murmured.
Her mother gave her an icy stare.
"That is not an option."
Silence fell inside the carriage. The horses' hooves struck the road with relentless rhythm, echoing the fate that was driving her inexorably toward Draven Manor.
Sélène closed her eyes for a moment, searching for an escape. But she knew the path had already been set.
And yet, deep within her, a flame of rebellion refused to die out.
The carriage rolled over the uneven cobblestones, its monotonous rhythm echoing the beating of Sélène's heart. The sky, once painted in shades of orange, was slowly darkening, and with it faded the last vestige of freedom she possessed.
Arms crossed, she stared at the velvet curtain separating her from the outside world. She could have pulled it aside, watched the world pass by, but what was the point? This road led only to a gilded cage.
"Stop making that face, Sélène," sighed her mother from across the carriage.
Sélène turned her head slightly toward her but kept her expression impassive.
"Should I be rejoicing?"
Lady Eleonore Magenta raised an eyebrow, irritated.
"It's too late for childishness. You were born into a house of knights. That means your future is not in your hands."
Sélène let out a bitter smile.
"Not in my hands… And yet, I forged that future. Every battle, every scar, every drop of sweat shed… Did it all amount to nothing?"
"You shame us," her mother retorted, lips pressed into a thin line. "A six-star female knight is not an achievement—it's an anomaly. We let it happen, thinking it would attract a powerful suitor. But look where we are now: if we do not secure an alliance with the Draven family, everything you have accomplished will have been for nothing."
Sélène closed her eyes, holding back a flood of conflicting emotions. An anomaly. That was how they saw her.
The carriage suddenly slowed.
She opened her eyes and, this time, parted the curtain slightly. In the distance, she saw a massive silhouette emerging through the veil of night mist.
Draven Manor.
A shiver ran down her spine.
She had never dreaded crossing a threshold more than this.
The carriage slowed further, its wheels creaking slightly over the smooth cobblestones leading to the imposing Draven Manor. A wave of tension knotted Sélène's stomach. She had known this moment would come, but seeing it with her own eyes made her fate feel all the more real.
The building loomed before her, austere and formidable, like a monolith defying the night sky. Large torches mounted on the walls cast shifting shadows, making the place both majestic and intimidating. This was not merely a noble estate—it was a fortress. A seat of power, forged by generations of formidable knights.
The carriage came to a halt. A heavy silence settled.
Sélène hesitated. For a fleeting moment, an insane thought crossed her mind: what if she refused to step out? What if she ordered the coachman to turn back? But she knew that was impossible. Even if she fled, her family would find her. Her father would never tolerate such humiliation.
"We have arrived," her mother announced, smoothing her gown, perfectly composed.
The carriage doors swung open, letting in a breath of cool night air. Sélène took a deep breath before stepping out. She was immediately met with the scrutinizing gaze of a butler dressed in immaculate attire.
"Lady Magenta. Miss Sélène," he said with a slight bow. "The master of the house awaits you in the great hall."
She nodded wordlessly and followed the servant inside.
The manor was even more impressive within. Luxurious carpets covered the stone floors, muffling their footsteps. Suits of armor, adorned with intricate engravings, lined the walls—a testament to the Draven family's martial heritage. The air carried a faint scent of leather and weapon oil, a familiar fragrance that should have reassured her… yet in this moment, it only made the weight in her chest heavier.
She was being led into the lion's den.
Her mother walked with unwavering confidence, but Sélène could sense her impatience. To her, this marriage was a political victory, an opportunity that could not be squandered.
To Sélène, it was a life sentence.
After several corridors, they reached two immense carved doors, guarded by knights in heavy armor. At their approach, the soldiers stepped aside and pushed the doors open, revealing the chamber where Kael Draven awaited.
An absolute silence fell.
Sélène immediately felt the weight of countless eyes upon her.
The room was vast, richly decorated yet devoid of excess. At its center stood Kael Draven, clad in ceremonial attire that did little to conceal his martial presence. He was tall, imposing, with an aura that commanded respect. His sharp gaze lingered on her for a moment, assessing her without a word.
Around him, several women were present. They were elegant, poised, and Sélène had no trouble discerning their identities. Kael's wives.
She had not been brought here as an ally.
She had been brought here as a concubine.
A surge of rebellion roared within her, fiercer than ever.
She would not submit.
Sélène stepped into the great hall, each step bringing her closer to Kael Draven. The women standing around him were not what she had imagined. They were beautiful, yes, but their gazes lacked the familiarity one might expect from a knight's wife, especially someone of Kael's stature. One wore a simple servant's dress, her hair pulled into a modest bun, while another appeared older, her hands covered in flour stains as if she had just left the kitchen.
These were not wives. They weren't even concubines. They were merely servants.
For a moment, Sélène stood frozen, her mind rearranging itself before this unexpected surprise. For the briefest instant, the weight of her certainties wavered. She had prepared herself to be a pawn in a game of alliances, but here, the atmosphere was entirely different.
Kael Draven turned toward her, his gaze sweeping across the hall and landing on her with an intensity that made her shiver. Then, a smile slowly formed on his face—a smile that, though friendly, seemed to carry a quiet sadness.
"Lady Sélène, it's an honor to meet you," he said in a voice that was soft yet firm.
Sélène bowed respectfully, but her mind was elsewhere, still caught in the whirlpool of her thoughts. She was about to respond, but Kael interrupted before she could speak a word.
"Why does she look like a caged bird?" he asked suddenly, his voice taking on a more serious, almost melancholic tone.
The question caught her off guard. Her gaze fixed on him, trying to understand the depth behind his words. Why a caged bird? The metaphor bewildered her. Here she was, a six-star knight, a woman capable of slaying any adversary on the battlefield, and he saw her this way, captured, confined?
Sélène remained silent, her mind ensnared by the whirlwind of that question. He seemed sincere. But how could he understand? A man who had never lived the crushing pressure of being born into a lineage where every decision, every move, was watched, dictated by impossible family expectations.
Her gaze drifted for a moment, searching for the words, but none came. She didn't know what to say to a man who seemed to already understand her burden, but who, with a simple smile, offered a semblance of freedom.
Perhaps he wasn't so different from her.
Finally, she lowered her eyes, her voice betraying a note of exhaustion.
"Maybe because that's exactly what I am."
Silence stretched, heavy and full of unspoken words. Kael stood there, without responding, as if every word spoken marked the beginning of a new reflection. Sélène could almost feel the weight of her own destiny hanging in the air, ready to fall upon her in the seconds to come.
But for the first time, a flicker of doubt, however brief, appeared in his eyes. Perhaps the cage wasn't yet closed.
And perhaps he wasn't the one who would lock her in it.