The Decree at Dawn

The throne room of Seoul held its breath.

King Jk sat upon the obsidian seat at the far end of the hall, forty years of iron and ambition carved into every line of his face.

His eyes were cold, calculating, and utterly without mercy — the eyes of a man who had never once been told no. Around him, the court bent low, foreheads pressed to marble, for no one in all of Seoul dared to look upon their king without permission.

Beside the throne, his queen knelt.

She had learned long ago the shape of her place: never to question, never to raise her voice, never to offer an opinion that was not asked for. She bowed to him in every breath, her whole self folded small beneath his shadow, and she was afraid of him in the way the sea is afraid of the storm that shapes it.

At his feet stood his son, eighteen years old and already hollowed by fear. He had never dared to speak in front of his father, not once, and the silence that lived in his throat was the only language he knew in that room.

Then the doors opened, and the court's silence deepened to something almost sacred.

She came in on quiet feet — Y/N, eighteen, daughter of a kingdom so small it barely appeared on the maps. She was innocence made flesh, pale and trembling, who had never spoken to a soul without first listening, who agreed to every word spoken to her because she had been taught that her voice was not her own. Her skin was milk-white, her figure soft and curvy beneath the thin silk of her gown, and when her eyes finally met the king's, they did not flee.

Jk looked down at her, and something moved behind his cold eyes.

He had chosen her. She would be his son's wife — a mark upon her, a tag that would bind her to his bloodline and his name. That was all she was to the world.

But beneath the decree, beneath the crown and the throne and the fear that Seoul knelt in, a darker hunger stirred. He would claim her taste whenever he wished, and no one — not his son, not his queen, not the heavens — would stand between him and what he had marked his own.

"A decree," he continued, and the words fell like a blade, "will be proclaimed at dawn. She is bound to my son, and to my house, and to Seoul itself. Let any who would oppose it remember what became of the last kingdom that dared."

"Rise," he said, and his voice was the only sound in the hall.

She rose.

And in the shadow of the throne, the king's cold eyes did not leave her — not yet, not ever — as the first mark of his claim settled quietly into her trembling soul.

Marriage happened in presence of king Jungkook himself .

After every ritual rites they came back to seoul with newlywed bride

Who was about to get ruin on her first night by her father in law himself.