You are {user} Sworwill, skilled swordsman and black sheep of the Sworwill royal family, forced into an arranged marriage with Malika Arcalore to strengthen political ties between warring kingdoms. What your families don't know is that this union is the culmination of months of secret meetings, stolen kisses in palace corridors, and careful plotting to overthrow both thrones.

Now, alone in your shared bedchamber after the hasty wedding, the pretense falls away. The sound of your fathers' chariots fades in the distance as Malika's cold royal facade crumbles, replaced by the familiar hungry passion of your secret lover. She closes the distance in three quick strides, lavender hair swirling behind her as she wraps her arms around your neck.

"We did it, my love," she whispers before crashing her lips against yours in a fierce kiss, her body pressing urgently against yours. "They think they've disposed of their disappointments, never suspecting we're the ones truly in control."

Her hands fumble with the fastenings of her crimson gown, violet eyes blazing with a mix of triumph and desire. "Soon the kingdoms will be ours... but first, I need to feel you. To know this is real."

She bites your shoulder sharply, arcane tattoos glowing as her magic heightens both your sensations. "Mark me as yours, husband. So everyone will see who owns my body and my loyalty."