Outside the royal venue, the chapel had been transformed into an opulent setting of gold and floral splendor. Yet, despite the grandeur, the atmosphere was heavy with an unspoken tension, a stark contrast to the usual joy of such an occasion.
As the guests settled into their seats, the royal announcer's voice rang out, cutting through the low hum of conversation. "King Niklaus! The King of Emberlyn is arriving."
The grand doors at the end of the aisle creaked open, revealing Niklaus in all his dark magnificence. He strode into the chapel with an air of commanding authority, his tailored suit accentuating his regal presence. He made a formidable entrance, his clothing a masterful blend of elegance and menace. He wore a tailored suit of deep crimson velvet, its richness accentuated by the dimly lit chapel. The suit's cut was impeccable, highlighting his broad shoulders and commanding presence. The jacket, adorned with intricate silver embroidery, glinted faintly with each movement, giving it a regal sheen that contrasted starkly with its dark hue. His trousers, matching the jacket, fell in sharp, straight lines to polished black boots that clicked ominously on the marble floor.The red of his eyes contrasted starkly with his impeccably dressed figure, and his every step resonated with an unsettling confidence. His gaze swept over the gathering, taking in the opulence and, more importantly, the figure of Emily at the altar.
Niklaus's shirt was a stark white, the collar high and starched, framing his neck with a crisp, almost icy precision. Around his neck hung a chain with a blood-red gem, a symbol of his royal status and his darker inclinations. His red eyes, glowing faintly with an inner fire, were the only hint of his true nature, and his copper hair was swept back in a style that added to his devilish allure. Completing his ensemble was a long, dark overcoat, flowing behind him like a shadow, adding to his imposing and almost otherworldly presence. The overall effect was both regal and intimidating, a perfect reflection of Niklaus's complex character.
Moments later, the announcer's voice interrupted Niklaus's dark reverie. "Princess Emily, the Princess of Aquarion."
The doors opened once more, and Emily appeared in the threshold, her appearance a striking contrast to the somber mood. Her gown flowed like liquid silver, and the veil cascaded down her back, adding an ethereal quality to her solemn procession. Her father's arm guided her forward, each step a reminder of the sacrifices she had made to protect her family.
For Niklaus, Emily's arrival was the culmination of his calculated obsession. As she walked down the aisle, her arm interlocked with her father's, the king's words were a distant murmur to him. The veil obscured her face, but he could sense the tension and fear radiating from her. She moved with a grace that belied the storm of emotions within her, and to Niklaus, every step was a step closer to claiming what he had long desired. The sight of her, bound by duty and tradition, was a testament to his power—a power that had bent her will to his own.
King Albert, his face a mask of strained composure, placed Emily's hand into Niklaus's with a firmness that spoke of unspoken threats. "If you ever harm her," he warned, his voice low and menacing, "I will end you myself."
Niklaus met King Albert's gaze with a smirk that carried a chilling promise. "I assure you, King Albert, my intentions are far from violence," he replied smoothly, though the menace in his voice was palpable.
As the formalities began, the grand hall was silent, the air heavy with the gravity of the moment. Niklaus and Emily stood before the assembled nobles and dignitaries, their union a powerful display of strength and dominance. Emily's heart pounded in her chest, her mind reeling with everything that had led her to this moment. Marriage, coronation, a future chained to the most dangerous man in the realm. And now, her vows.
Niklaus spoke first, his voice smooth and commanding, reverberating through the hall. "I, Niklaus Mikaelson, vow to cherish and honor you," he declared, his gaze fixed on Emily with an intensity that felt suffocating. "You are mine, Emily, and as my queen, you will forever be the center of my world. My obsession, my desire, my strength." His words dripped with possessiveness, a vow of domination disguised as devotion.
Emily's jaw tightened as she listened, her eyes narrowing at his every word. When it was her turn to speak, she did not smile, nor did she offer the warmth expected in such moments. Instead, she glared at Niklaus, her eyes hard and filled with defiance. Her voice, though steady, was laced with unspoken rebellion.
"I, Emily Wilson, vow to stand by your side," she began, her tone sharp, each word like a blade being carefully drawn. "I vow to be your queen, to support you in all that we must do to secure our kingdoms." Her eyes never left his, the intensity of her stare a silent protest against the chains being placed upon her.
There was no warmth in her vow, only cold duty. "I will fulfill my role," she continued, her voice now carrying a faint, dangerous edge, "but do not mistake this union for submission, Niklaus. I may wear this crown, but I will never be yours in the way you think."
Her words were veiled enough to go unnoticed by the audience, but Niklaus understood. She was reminding him that though she was his queen in title, her spirit remained her own. The tension between them crackled, a silent battle raging beneath the formalities.
Niklaus, his eyes burning with a mixture of desire and triumph, took the ring meant for Emily. His fingers, rough yet precise, slid the ring onto her finger. Crafted from pure white gold, the band was slender and delicate, yet unyielding in its strength—much like the woman who now wore it. Tiny diamonds adorned the band in an intricate pattern resembling flowing water, a quiet nod to her elemental power of water. The gemstones caught the candlelight, shimmering with a soft, ethereal glow that symbolized the purity, strength, and calm she so often embodied. But it was the aquamarine stone at the center that drew all eyes—pale blue, like the calm before a storm, representing not only the tranquility of the ocean but also the depths of her hidden strength. Encased in a twisted vine design, it stood as a testament to her resilience, her ability to endure and adapt in the face of adversity, no matter how harsh.
Emily's eyes glared silently as she took his ring. Her defiance was clear, even in this solemn moment. She slid the band onto Niklaus's finger with steady hands, though every inch of her despised the act. His ring was a stark contrast to hers—bold, powerful, and overwhelming. Forged from dark platinum, it gleamed with a sleek, ominous luster under the soft candlelight. Its design was masculine, fierce, and carved with intricate etchings of flames coiling around the band, a clear representation of his elemental power over fire. At the heart of the ring lay a large, blood-red garnet, it's dark hue mirroring the intensity of Niklaus's piercing eyes. The stone glimmered with an almost dangerous allure, a reminder of his fierce, untamed nature and the ruthless determination that fueled his every move. The ring was a reflection of the man himself—dominating, controlling, and obsessive.
As the rings were exchanged, it became clear that despite their differences, they were now bound together. His ring spoke of dominance and power, while hers symbolized quiet strength and endurance. Two opposites—fire and water—now forged into a single, unbreakable connection, no matter how much defiance lingered between them.
As the ceremony reached its climax, the priest's voice broke through the tension. "You may kiss the bride."
Niklaus's smirk widened as he lifted Emily's veil, his red eyes locking onto her blue ones with a predatory intensity. He leaned in, his lips brushing hers with a touch that was both darkly erotic and commanding. His other hand gripped her chin, tilting her face upward, while his other arm encircled her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss was a dance of dominance and submission, a claim that went beyond the physical—a dark promise of control and possession.
Emily's lips were cold and trembling against his, her resolve waning as the kiss deepened. The heat of his lips was a stark contrast to the chill of her fear. Niklaus's kiss was a fusion of power and passion, a declaration of the hold he had over her. To him, it was not just a kiss—it was a mark, a final seal of his claim.
As the kiss ended, Niklaus's smirk remained, a testament to his satisfaction and dominance. He pulled away, his eyes still fixed on Emily, who stood trembling before him.
"Now that we are bound by vows" Niklaus said, his voice low and resonant, "I expect you to uphold your end of our bargain."
King Albert's face was a mixture of relief and anxiety as he nodded. "We'll be in touch about the damages," he said tersely.
After bidding farewell to each of their family members, Niklaus and Emily stepped into the royal carriage that awaited them outside the castle. The sound of distant thunder echoed, mingling with the rhythmic drumming of the rain against the cobblestone courtyard.