The next day came faster than I could process.
It wasn't like the grand weddings sung about in the operas of Altera. There were no choirs, no cathedral bells or even sweeping declarations of love. Marriages between Mid-Tier Bloodlines and Houses weren't ceremonies. They were transactions to be blunt. Still, the Nivarea estate went mad with celebration.
Banners fluttered from every tower and for the first time in decades, the estate's heart crystal glowed gold. It was a sign that another House heir had entered our lineage. Every distant cousin and pretentious relative wanted to be seen smiling that day, to attach themselves, however faintly, to the House of Argemenes.
I wasn't allowed to eat, though. Not before the ceremony. They said it would "dilute my purity." I remember thinking how stupid that sounded while watching my brothers and sisters stuff their faces at the banquet table. And then, sometime after dusk, when the moon began rising over the windows of the nuptial room, I found myself standing beside her.
The wedding ritual of a Mid-Tier Estate was an old and uncomfortable thing. You stood barefoot in a circle of light drawn by your family's Flux Crest, and the House heir placed their hand on your heart. Then the Esrema, my mother, announced the vow:
"May your blood serve the House, and may your House serve the Balance."
That was it. A soft glow, the merging of sigils, and a cold rush of Flux as the contract bound itself into your veins. When it ended, Anastelle looked completely unbothered. Her face was calm like this was just another chore.
My legs were shaking though. Mother, of course, looked proud enough to burst. Her voice trembled slightly when she bowed before Anastelle's crimson-haired father.
"It is an honor to have our bloodline chosen."
He nodded once. That was all. And then they left the hall to us.
Tradition dictated that a High-Tier heir and their new spouse must consummate their bond in the estate before leaving. It wasn't lust or romance. It was proof to every Mid-Tier and Low-Tier family that the union was real and that the House acknowledged the estate's fertility. That's how you raised your Bloodline's standing.
By morning, the estate would announce that the Argemenes heir had slept under Nivarea's roof. Their name would skyrocket in the social hierarchy, their influence deepening across all Twelve Houses. It wasn't about love. It was about legacy.
That night, I sat on the edge of the enormous bed draped in white silks. The air smelled faintly of incense. I could still hear the faint celebration echoing outside. It was the laughter of nobles who believed this union made them immortal.
And then, the door opened and she stepped in.
Anastelle wore a thin white nightgown that shimmered faintly under the dim lights. Her hair spilled loose around her shoulders, crimson waves framing that sun-kissed skin. The servants must have prepared her. They probably spent hours bathing and perfuming her in the ways of Mid-Tier custom. But when her eyes met mine, they were cold. She closed the door behind her with a soft click and said, almost casually.
"You're going to die."
My body froze. "..What?"
She tilted her head slightly, as if studying a puzzle.
"You have Fluve Syndrome. Stage One. The discoloration under your eyes, the slight imbalance in your Xana signature, it's obvious if you know what to look for."
Fluve Syndrome. The words made my stomach drop.
It wasn't a common illness, but everyone in Altera Earth knew its reputation. It's s degenerative Flux disorder that ate away at your body's core, slowly severing your link until your own life energy unraveled. Most who had it didn't live to see twenty-five. Also, they would turn to a Fluvium.
I swallowed hard, my voice barely steady.
"Then... why—why did you choose me?"
Her lips curled into a small, humorless smile.
"Because I don't care about your sickness."
That wasn't what I expected.
She walked toward me and I could feel the shift in the air. Xana pulsed faintly from her. When she reached the bed, she stopped, looking down at me like a cat inspecting a cornered mouse.
"I don't care about your mother's reputation. I don't care if the Nivarea crumble. I chose you because you'll give me what I want."
My throat went dry. "And what's that?"
Before I could move, she grabbed my wrist and pushed me backward against the bed. Her strength startled me. I was stronger than a lot of my siblings but is a High Tier Bloodline this strong?
Her hair brushed against my face as she leaned close.
"You're going to make me pregnant."
My heart nearly stopped.
"What—"
"If I have a child before I reach adulthood, I'll be recognized as a full Ruler of the House. No more guardians, no more supervision. The Argemenes will be mine to command. And I heard the Nivarea are a very... fertile Bloodline."
There was no hesitation in her voice or shame.
"You're sixteen," I managed to whisper.
She smiled faintly.
"And you're fifteen. We're old enough for our purposes, don't you think? If you fail me, I'll kill you. That's not a threat, that's a promise."
Then she kissed me hard. When she pulled back, her voice was calm again.
"You have two years. That's all. Don't waste them."
°°°°°
My body ached when I woke up. Every muscle screamed in agony, yet there was a strange, numbing satisfaction beneath it all. The scent of night still clung to the air. The faint sweat, perfume and the lingering trace of her touch was all I could sense.
I shifted slightly, my bruised ribs protesting. I'd never imagined that the nuptial night every Mid Tier child was raised to anticipate would begin like that. Our lessons about pleasing a spouse hadn't prepared us for her. We were taught how to satisfy them. But no one mentioned how it would feel to face someone like Anastelle Vecria Argemenes, who looked at me not as a partner, but as a goal.
The sheets rustled beside me, and I turned my head. She was asleep, or perhaps just pretending to be. Even asleep, her presence dominated the room. Her crimson hair spilled across the pillow. I'd grown up around noble women but Anastelle wasn't like that.
I sat up, careful not to wake her, and caught my reflection in the mirror across the room. My neck bore a faint bite mark. My chest was mottled with bruises that would take days to heal, maybe longer. The proud Nivarea boy trained to charm and serve looked like he barely survived a sparring duel.
And yet, I smiled faintly.
I had passed the class at fourteen, top of the physical affinity lessons. My servant at the time, a woman named Kairen, had praised me more than anyone else in our cohort. At fourteen, we were given a servant to practice out skills in lovemaking and she gave me a high review. That pride had carried me through every evaluation since.
But last night, Anastelle had shattered every expectation. There was no rhythm or balance, only dominance. She didn't move like a lover. She moved like someone claiming victory. Her eyes never softened once. She'd pressed me down and when she whispered her threats in my ear, I'd felt more alive than afraid.
She had told me I was going to die.
I remember her words with perfect clarity, as if her voice was still echoing in my skull.
"You have Fluve Syndrome."
It hit me harder than any blow could. I'd always known something was wrong like the occasional fatigue, the way my Flux sometimes wavered under pressure but hearing it from her stripped away all illusion. If my mother ever found out, she'd have me executed to protect the Nivarea reputation.
And then she told me to give her a child. The absurdity of it still clung to me. She wanted a child, an heir, so she could rule the House of Argemenes before adulthood. She wanted me for my fertility and my bloodline's infamy for producing many heirs. And despite the threat and the fear, I'd complied because that was what we were born to do.
A soft yawn interrupted my thoughts.
Anastelle stirred beside me, her silver eyes flickering open. She stretched lazily, the white nightgown slipping off one shoulder, and then looked at me with that same piercing disinterest.
"You're awake. Good. We'll continue tonight when we return to the Vecria Estate."
I blinked, half thinking she was joking.
"Tonight? I think I need to rest first. I have a few bruises…"
The look she gave me could have turned air into ice. In a single motion, she was on top of me again, her palms pressing against my chest, pinning me with effortless strength.
"Don't complain. You don't have the right to complain. If you do, I'll kill you."
Her eyes didn't waver.
"Yes..."
"Good."
Then, as if nothing had happened, she leaned down and pressed her lips to my neck. Her breath was warm. I felt her teeth again, a light nip this time, and she smiled faintly.
"You have a beautiful face. My children are going to be beautiful. Too bad you won't live long enough to see them."
Something snapped in me then. It was not anger or defiance. It was a need to prove that I wasn't just a dying man chosen out of convenience. I moved before I thought, grabbing her wrists and rolling her over. It surprised her. For the first time, she looked startled, her silver eyes widening just slightly.
"I'll live. I'll live, no matter what this sickness does. I'll overcome it, and I'll raise my children. That's my responsibility as a Nivarea."
For a second, we stared at each other. Her lips parted, as if she wanted to mock me, but instead, she smiled. It was not cold this time.
"You're good. Fine. I'll give you a chance, just this once. I'll let you decide what to do to me as a reward. We leave in the afternoon, after all."
It was strange, like watching a storm lower its walls just enough to reveal sunlight. I didn't hesitate. I remember every detail of that second time. The warmth of her breath, the faint tremble of her hand and her gasps. The silence between us that wasn't hostile anymore.
When we finally lay side by side again, the light had turned white, flooding the room completely. She didn't say anything, and neither did I. But deep inside, I realized something terrifying. I was going to die soon.
I had to survive. I'm not going to die that easily.