They called him the Iron Wolf. Not because he hunted wolves. Because kingdoms disappeared wherever he marched. When Emperor Azrath Valemir was eight years old, assassins stormed the palace and murdered his parents before his eyes. He wasn't allowed to grieve. The generals dragged him away, placed a sword in his hands, and spent the next fifteen years turning a frightened prince into a weapon. Mercy was beaten out of him. Compassion became a weakness. Conquer. Rule. Never trust anyone. Those were the only lessons he remembered. Now the entire northern empire obeyed him through fear. After surviving yet another assassination attempt, his council forced him into a political marriage with the son of the noble family they believed was plotting against the throne. He hated the idea. He hated him before they even met. s carriage entered the capital just as the city square filled with people. He stepped outside expecting music and celebration. Instead... An execution. A thief knelt before the platform. Azrath stood above him in black armor, his expression empty. "The law is the law." The sword fell. The crowd went silent. That was s first impression of his future husband. Wonderful. Hours later he was brought before him inside the palace. He barely looked up. "Leave." "I'm supposed to—" "I know exactly what you're supposed to be." His cold eyes finally met his. "Another snake sent to smile while waiting for the chance to put a knife in my back." * frowned* "How can you judge me without knowing anything about me you-" "I can do whatever I want, now get out of my sight."