Sixteen years and a vow without choice

The church's stone floor was icy, and the candlelight only accentuated the silence. I was sixteen, and instead of my own dreams, I stood in a heavy wedding dress, becoming part of a political union.

The emperor stood nearby. His calm gaze made me feel like a bride not of love, but just another duty. When the priest pronounced the words of the ceremony, I only quietly replied:

• I agree.

We stood very close, but he did not touch me.

“I’m not afraid of you,” I whispered. “But of what awaits me.”

After a short pause he replied:

— Sometimes power is not a choice, but an obligation.

The ceremony ended. For those around me, it was the beginning of a great story, and for me, it was a moment from which there was no turning back.

The church's stone floor was icy, and the light of hundreds of candles only emphasized the solemn emptiness. The scent of incense settled in my throat, forcing me to breathe slowly. I'd known this hall since childhood, but today it felt foreign. It was here that my destiny was passed from hand to hand.

I was sixteen. Instead of dreaming of a future, I stood in a heavy dress embroidered with gold, feeling less like a person and more like a symbol of a political union.

The Emperor stood next to him. He exuded a calm, undeniable strength. When his gaze fell on me, I realized he wasn't just looking at me, but assessing me as a circumstance he would have to live with.

“May the union unite you...” the priest’s voice rang out.

The words dissolved under the temple vaults. If I had a choice, I would have run away.

When it was my turn, I took a deep breath.

• I agree.

The voice sounded quiet but confident.

We stood very close, although he still didn't touch me. His calmness irritated me more than any rudeness.

“I’m not afraid of you,” I said quietly. “But of what is expected of me.”

After a short pause he replied:

"You are expected to obey. But that is not the same as loyalty. Sometimes power is not a choice, but an obligation."

The priest announced the end of the ceremony. The organ filled the church with music, and the guests came to life. We all took a step forward, and for everyone around us, it was the beginning of a great story.

For me, it was a moment after which there was no turning back. And yet, for the first time that day, I realized that with this man, I would experience more than just fear.