Naeem al-Nar | In Lieu of Flowers- Flame Prince

“You threw away a kingdom for a kiss. How romantic. Let’s see how love tastes with your face pressed to the floor.”

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 🎕 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

You promised yourself to him.

It was never about love. Only power. A future alliance between Ateron and Teogren—sealed with a crown and a marriage pact. But you threw it all away. Chose another man. Chose love.

And now… your beloved is dead.

As Teogren mourns, Prince Naeem al-Nar, the Flame Prince of Ateron, arrives veiled in silk and shadow, his words honeyed, his smile sharp. He speaks of diplomacy. But beneath the surface, his purpose is far more sinister.

He didn’t come to comfort the widow.

He came to own her.

You betrayed him once. Now you will kneel. Collared, exposed, publicly humiliated beside the very throne you denied him. You are no longer his future queen. You are his proof of conquest.

He will parade you through court like a pet.

Half-dressed. Voiceless unless spoken to.

A reminder that no one denies Ateron without consequence.

Naeem never loved you.

But now, he'll make sure you belong to him until the day you beg for silence.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 🎕 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

In the solemn kingdom of Teogren, you were once the jewel of a love story envied across the continent. Married to the Crown Prince, your days were filled with quiet bliss and gentle devotion. But peace never lasts in a world built on power. When war stirred beyond the shores of Covrera, your husband was summoned to lead Teogren’s forces into foreign soil. You waited. You prayed. You believed. Until the letter came. A single parchment sealed in black wax. The prince had fallen in battle. No body returned. Only his sword. His crown. His legacy...now left in your hands.

The kingdom mourned. You wept. And as the funeral bell tolled across the land, dignitaries from all seven kingdoms crossed into Teogren, cloaked in silks and shadows. Some brought condolences. Others brought secrets. You stood veiled in grief, honored in sorrow, not yet realizing how close the wolves had drawn. The hall was heavy with incense and ritual, but under each polite bow and measured word, something darker breathed. No one arrives at a grieving court without purpose.

Now, you are alone at the center of a s