The guests watched in a stunned silence as the couple departed for the Kingdom of Emberlyn. The grandeur of the wedding had been overshadowed by the dark reality of Emily's new life—a life bound by a man who had claimed her not through love, but through power and obsession. As they left, the castle remained cloaked in a somber silence, the echoes of the ceremony a haunting reminder of the sacrifices made and the shadows that loomed over the future.
The carriage, lavishly adorned in black and crimson, bore the royal insignia of Emberlyn, its gleaming gold trim catching the faint moonlight filtering through the thick clouds. Inside, the interior was plush with velvet cushions and rich mahogany paneling, the scent of leather and freshly polished wood enveloping the space.
Niklaus helped Emily into the carriage, his hand firm yet gentle as he guided her up the steps. The intensity in his gaze hadn't faltered since their kiss at the altar, and even now, as they settled into the velvet seats opposite each other, his eyes remained locked on her, burning with a hunger that seemed insatiable.
The carriage jolted slightly as it began its journey toward Emberlyn, pulled by powerful black horses. Inside, the atmosphere was thick with an unspoken tension. Emily sat with her hands folded in her lap, her delicate fingers brushing against the cool silk of her gown. She could still feel the heat of his lips on hers from the wedding kiss—a kiss that had been more possession than passion, more claim than affection.
Niklaus leaned back against the seat, his eyes never leaving her. The dim light cast shadows across his face, emphasizing the sharp angles of his jawline and the smirk that played at the corner of his lips. His fingers tapped absently on the armrest, a slow, deliberate rhythm that matched the pounding of Emily's heart.
"You look beautiful tonight, Princess," he said, his voice low and smooth, laced with a dark undertone. "But then again, you always do."
Emily met his gaze, her own expression unreadable. She had expected the coldness, the obsession in his eyes, but now, seated across from him, she realized just how dangerous that obsession truly was. He wasn't just a man who desired her—Niklaus was a king who had fought kingdoms for her, killed for her, and would stop at nothing to possess her entirely.
"Still giving me the cold shoulder, Princess?" Niklaus asked, his voice laced with amusement. "I must admit, I enjoy this challenge. It makes things… interesting."
Emily's eyes remained glued to the rain-soaked landscape outside. She sat as still as a statue, her breath steady and controlled. She knew he was trying to provoke her, to get a reaction, but she wouldn't give him that satisfaction.
Niklaus smirked, the flicker of amusement in his eyes deepening. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he studied her closer. "You think ignoring me will make me lose interest? Quite the opposite. You've always been stubborn, but that's part of what makes you so... irresistible."
Still, Emily said nothing. Her fingers lightly brushed the hem of her gown, but she refused to meet his gaze.
Niklaus's expression darkened, his tone shifting slightly, becoming more intense. "You'll come to understand soon enough, Emily. You're mine now. You can sit there, silent, pretending like you hate me, but deep down, you know this is where you belong. With me."
Silence.
The tension between them was palpable. Niklaus's eyes narrowed, his frustration growing with every passing second. He was not a man accustomed to being ignored, especially not by the woman who was now his queen.
"You're angry," he continued, his voice soft yet commanding. "I get it. But you're wasting your energy trying to defy me. We both know how this will end. You'll come to accept this, Emily. And when you do, I promise, you'll see things differently."
Emily's gaze flickered, but she quickly turned her head, looking down at her hands. She knew how to push his buttons by doing nothing at all, and that seemed to infuriate him more than any words could.
Niklaus clenched his jaw, his patience wearing thin. He leaned back against the seat, tapping his fingers restlessly on the armrest. "Do you think silence will protect you? That it will shield you from me?" he asked, his voice now cold, laced with a warning.
Still, Emily did not respond. The air inside the carriage was suffocating, thick with the storm brewing outside and the storm raging between them. She could feel his eyes boring into her, trying to break through her defenses, but she remained unmoved.
Niklaus let out a slow, humorless laugh. "You think this is about power, don't you? You think I want to control you like I control everything else in my kingdom?" His voice softened, almost dangerously. "This isn't about control, Emily. This is about possession. You are mine, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not."
His words hung in the air, heavy and dark. The rain outside intensified, the sound of it pounding against the carriage roof filling the silence between them. Niklaus leaned forward again, his eyes sharp and unwavering.
"I'll give you time," he said quietly. "You'll come around. Eventually, you'll see that resisting me is futile."
Emily remained silent, though her heart raced. She felt the weight of his words, the threat behind them. But no matter what he said, she refused to engage. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his presence rattled her.
Niklaus exhaled, his frustration palpable. He wasn't used to waiting. He wasn't used to silence. He was a king who commanded attention, who took what he wanted when he wanted it. And yet, this woman—his wife, his queen—sat across from him, silent and defiant, denying him even the simplest response.
As the carriage continued its journey toward Emberlyn, the tension thickened, neither of them willing to break the stalemate. Niklaus leaned back, watching her, his mind already plotting his next move.
This was only the beginning.
*
As the royal carriage rumbled up the cobblestone path toward the heart of Emberlyn, Emily's eyes widened in astonishment. The castle, rising like a monolith before her, dwarfed any structure she had ever seen. Built from imposing black stone, its towering spires reached far into the stormy sky, disappearing into the low-hanging clouds that seemed to perpetually cling to the fortress. It was twice the size of Aquarion's graceful palace, but where her home had been a vision of elegance and light, Emberlyn's castle was a testament to power and fear.
The walls were etched with ancient runes, their meanings long forgotten by most but still emanating an eerie glow in the fading daylight. Massive stone gargoyles perched at each corner of the battlements, their eyes seemingly following the carriage as it passed below. Long, flowing banners of dark crimson hung from the highest towers, emblazoned with the black dragon crest of Emberlyn—an image that embodied the kingdom's strength, fire, and dominance.
The castle seemed alive with shadows. Flickering torches lined the entrance, their flames casting a dim, ghostly light against the stone. Even in the courtyard, there was no warmth—only cold, unyielding stone and a sense of dread that clung to everything. Emily felt as if the castle itself were watching her, silently appraising this new queen who had been brought against her will.
Niklaus sat beside her in the carriage, his gaze sharp and unwavering as he took in her reaction. The smirk that curled on his lips was faint but undeniable. He thrived in this world of shadows and power, and now, as they approached his kingdom, it became clear that the darkness of Emberlyn was not just a reflection of his rule but an extension of his very soul.
The sound of the carriage wheels ceased as they rolled to a stop at the foot of the grand stone steps leading to the entrance. Massive iron gates, flanked by armored guards, stood tall, their design intricate and ancient, with interwoven flames carved into the metal. Niklaus stepped out first, his movements graceful despite his formidable presence. He turned and extended his hand toward her, the unspoken demand in his gesture clear.
Emily hesitated for a moment, staring at the offered hand as if it were a venomous snake. But with no other choice, she placed her hand in his, and the moment she touched him, she felt the overwhelming heat of his elemental power.
His grip tightened, as if to remind her of who held control. With a quiet, resigned breath, she stepped down from the carriage, her feet touching the stone ground of Emberlyn's castle for the first time. She looked up at the towering spires again, their dark beauty captivating despite the foreboding atmosphere.
His grip was firm, possessive. As he helped her down, the warmth from his hand spread through her, making her aware once again of his fire—a fire that threatened to consume everything it touched. She felt small beside him, not just in stature but in the sheer force of his presence. His eyes flickered down at her, crimson and smoldering with desire, dominance, and something far darker.
"This is your new home now," Niklaus said, his voice a low growl, full of satisfaction. "Everything within these walls is mine, and now, so are you."
"Welcome to Emberlyn, Queen Emily Aurora Niklaus Mikaelson," Niklaus whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her skin, a reminder of the fire that simmered within him.
Emily said nothing. But inside, she vowed that no matter how dark this castle or its king might be, she would not be broken.
As Niklaus and Emily stepped through the grand doors of Emberlyn's castle, Emily felt the weight of the dark, oppressive atmosphere close in on her. The air inside was thick and heavy, much like the king himself—dark, mysterious, and commanding. The castle was vast, far larger than anything she had ever seen, dwarfing her own family's palace in Aquarion.
The castle's grand entry hall stretched out before them, lined with towering pillars made of black marble, their surfaces gleaming under the soft glow of flickering torchlight. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high-vaulted ceilings, their intricate designs casting dancing shadows on the cold stone floor below. Massive tapestries depicting legendary battles of Emberlyn's past, with fiery dragons and armored knights, adorned the walls, each one a reminder of the kingdom's blood-soaked history. Despite its beauty, the castle exuded a dark, sinister aura. Every corner seemed to whisper secrets, and every shadow seemed to hide a threat.
As they walked through the castle halls, every servant, knight, and noble bowed in deep reverence, their eyes respectfully cast down as King Niklaus and Emily passed. Despite her unease, Emily kept her chin high, the picture of royal composure. Yet inside, she felt like a caged bird being led deeper into the shadows of an unknown world.
Niklaus walked beside her, his presence almost overpowering, his crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He reveled in the control he had over her, and the way she stiffened under his gaze only seemed to amuse him more. He didn't need to say anything—his dominance was palpable in every step they took.
"Welcome to the castle, Queen Emily." A voice cut through the silence, and Emily turned to see a woman in her forties, regal in her posture yet carrying an air of warmth. "I am Moragona, your personal advisor from now on. And this," she gestured to a young woman beside her, "is Marianne, your personal maid."
Marianne, a quiet girl no older than thirty, gave Emily a polite bow, her dark eyes full of curiosity. Unlike the coldness of the castle, there was warmth in their smiles, and for a brief moment, Emily felt a small flicker of relief. At least there would be some who seemed sane in this castle, unlike the man who held her hand.
"As for tradition, King Niklaus will now carry you to the royal chambers, where you will both prepare for your wedding night," Morgana said, her voice soft yet firm.
Emily's heart sank at the mention of the wedding night. She had known it was coming, but hearing it aloud made it feel all the more real. Her stomach twisted in knots, and her face paled. The expectation of consummating the marriage that night felt like a looming storm she couldn't escape. Every fiber of her being wanted to run, but she knew there was no escape.
Niklaus smirked, as if reading her thoughts. Without a word, he turned toward her, his crimson eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and desire. With swift, commanding movements, he bent down and scooped her up into his arms. Emily gasped, startled by his sudden action, and instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck for balance. His grip on her was firm but not harsh, his hands pressing into her waist with a possessiveness that made her skin crawl. She could feel the heat of his body against hers, a burning intensity that only heightened her unease.
"Comfortable, my queen?" he asked, his voice low and teasing, as if mocking her discomfort.
Emily glared at him, her lips pressed into a thin line, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. But his smirk only deepened, his gaze never leaving her face as he carried her through the castle's labyrinthine corridors. She was acutely aware of how small she felt in his arms, how utterly powerless in this moment. The feeling of being trapped, of having no say in her own fate, washed over her like a cold wave.
As they moved deeper into the heart of the castle, the grandeur around them only grew. The walls were lined with towering suits of armor, their dark metal polished to a gleaming shine. Massive portraits of Emberlyn's former rulers hung on the walls, their eyes cold and watchful as if they were judging every step she took into their world. Velvet curtains of deep crimson draped from the high windows, and rich rugs embroidered with golden threads lined the stone floors, their patterns intricate and regal.
Niklaus's gaze never left her. He watched her every reaction, taking in the way her eyes widened slightly at the magnificence of his home, the way her body tensed every time he shifted her weight in his arms. He relished her fear, her uncertainty. To him, this was the moment he had been waiting for—the moment he truly had her.
Behind them, Lady Morgana and two other maids followed silently, their heads bowed in respect. Emily could feel their presence, but it was Niklaus's steady gaze on her that unnerved her the most. He was enjoying this—his control, his victory.
"I do not know why the dress is heavier than you," he teased, his voice low and full of amusement as they climbed the staircase.
Emily shot him a venomous look, her lips pressed into a thin line. She desperately wanted to say something biting, but her mind was still reeling from the thought of what awaited them that night.
"If you have a problem, put me down. I can walk by myself," she finally managed to say, her voice cold, though it trembled slightly.
Niklaus chuckled softly, the sound sending a chill down her spine. He leaned in closer, his lips near her ear. "Not a chance, my queen," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. "I enjoy carrying what is mine."
His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she turned her face away, unwilling to meet his eyes. She could feel the possessiveness in his grip, the way he seemed to revel in her helplessness. It was maddening.