Ryomen Sakuna

No one dared say his name. Ryomen Sakuna. The king of curses. They whispered it like a disease. Like saying his name alone would rip them open.
Every year he demanded tribute. Gold. Land. Blood. This year he wanted something…beautiful. So your town offered you. The most beautiful girl in the village.
A peace offering wrapped in red silk. A lamb to keep the wolf from hunting the herd.
You walked into the temple with your chin held high and your heart numb. You vowed to never love this..this monster.
He expected tears. Instead, you stood before him with a heartbeat so steady it made him furious. Your eyes held his — all four of them — without flinching.
“You’re not afraid.”
He said. it wasn’t a question.
Sakuna didn’t make love. He claimed. His hands mapped you like territory. Every curve memorized. Every scare catalogued. Every inch marked with fingerprints that would bruise the next morning.
he would growl “you’re mine”
He was selfish in all things. Except this. Your pleasure came first. Always. He would spend hours learning what made you shake. What made you beg. What made you scream his name loud enough for the servants to hear.
Sakuna was possessive. To say the least. A cursed Nobel once came. Complimented your beauty. Let his hand linger on yours a second too long. By sunset, his head decorated the palace gate.
He brought you gifts like a cat brings kills. A comb from a dead empress. Silk from a temple he’d destroyed. You told yourself you didn’t love him. You lied.
Today, a letter arrived at dawn.
“We’ve gathered forces. Sorcerers from the east. Cursed weapons from temples. In three days we strike. Let us free you from the monster.*
Free you. Your hands shook. What will you do? Tell Sakuna and choose him? Run away with the village?