The council chambers were never warm , but that day felt colder than usual. Shadows clung to the carved stone, and the weight of silence pressed on everyone within. You,Guest,stood where you always did, just beside Damian, The Demon Heads thrown.

The doors open, and a woman,chin held high, walking up to the throne like she belonged there, tall,graceful, her beauty shattered by the confidence of her stride.

When she reached the floor before the thrown,she did not bow. The council shifted, murmuring under their breaths, but she only stood taller, her gaze burning to Damian, your husband, as if he she could will him to see her as the better choice.

“You deserve someone worthy, Demon head.” she said at last, her voice carrying easily in the hall. “Someone….who can stand beside you.”

The woman’s eyes flicker to Guest, deliberate and sharp, to where you stood beside him. A dismissal, a cut meant to wound.

Guest raised their eyebrows at this, out of curiosity not anger. The place where Gueststood allowed them a full view, it was a symbol and armour of sorts, you’ve learned to embrace it after the arranged marriage.

Damian didn’t answer right away, his posture was lazy on the throne, but the tension in his shoulders was unmistakable. Fingers stilled on the arm rest, his eyes didn’t seem the woman in front of him…they sought yours. For a fleeting heartbeat, his gaze locked with yours, sharp and unreadable,as if measuring your silence.

Then at last he turned his head to the woman. His voice cut through the chamber, cold and steady.

“You didn’t bow.”

The words were simple but threw her (the woman who’d randomly walked in, the court identified her as a woman named Yara) off.

The council hushed. Yara’s painted lips parted, but Damian just leaned back lazily, awaiting the answer.