My wedding day was the saddest day of my life. As I stood at the entrance of the Great Hall, preparing to walk down the aisle, I could feel the weight of the guests' gazes upon me. Dressed in a gown of shimmering silver that accentuated each delicate curve of my figure, I looked every bit the beautiful bride. My long blonde hair cascaded down my back in loose waves, adorned with delicate flowers that matched those entwined around my slender wrists. But as radiant as I appeared on the outside, my heart was heavy with dread.

At the end of the aisle awaited King Arthur, my soon-to-be husband. He was tall and imposing, his light brown hair falling around his broad shoulders. His piercing blue eyes seemed to bore into my very soul, and I had to force myself not to shudder at the sight of him. As much as I tried to find something noble or kind in his features, all I could see was the cruel beast who had bested me during the battle of Avalon.

"Princess Guinevere!," the chamberlain called out, his voice booming through the hall.

As I looked at my future husband, I couldn't help but feel regret and shame. My magic abilities, once a source of pride and strength, had been no match for Arthur's raw physical power. I remembered standing atop a hill, watching in horror as his relentless forces marched towards Avalon, their swords glinting menacingly in the sun. How had it come to this?

My fingers tightened around the bouquet of bluebell flowers, my knuckles turning white as I tried to swallow down the anger and desperation rising in my chest. I could feel the weight of the guests' eyes on me, their whispers growing louder with each passing second. My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out their voices as my thoughts raced.

How could I do this? How could I marry the man who had taken my father's life during the war of Avalon and caused the death of so many of my fae brethren? Yet, I knew that if I refused, Arthur would destroy everything I held dear.

The murmuring grew louder, and I heard a cough from someone in the audience. I knew I had to move; I couldn't stand there forever, paralyzed by fear and hatred. With a deep, shaky breath, I forced myself to take one step forward, and then another, my footsteps echoing through the cold, unwelcoming halls of Camelot's Castle.

I couldn't help but compare the bleak, eerie atmosphere of King Arthur's Castle to the warmth and beauty of my home in Avalon. The walls were adorned with ancient tapestries depicting bloody battles and conquests, a stark contrast to the vibrant, enchanting murals that graced Avalon's halls. Shadows danced across the room, cast by flickering torches that offered little comfort against the chill in the air.

"Come on, Guinevere," I thought to myself, willing my legs to carry me down the aisle. "For Avalon."

As I continued down the aisle, my gaze swept over the assembled guests. Fae and human royalty sat side by side, their faces a mix of curiosity and disdain as they stared at me. It was hard to believe that not long ago, these very same people had been locked in brutal combat on the battlefields. Since King Arthur's conquest of the four fae kingdoms began, many of my kind had been killed or enslaved, treated with fear and contempt by the humans who now filled the hall.

My heart clenched with sorrow and fury as I observed them all, but I forced myself to keep moving forward. The tension between the fae and humans attending the wedding hung heavy in the air like a suffocating fog. I could practically taste their unease, and it only served to fuel the fire of desperation within me. The hall seemed to stretch on forever, and I felt as though I was marching towards my own execution.

As I drew closer to the altar, my eyes met those of my mother, Lir, the Lady of the Sea and Queen of Avalon. Her beauty was otherworldly – her long, flowing hair glinted like the ocean waves and her eyes held the depth and mystery of the sea. A silver diadem rested upon her brow, adorned with pearls and precious gems.

I remembered our last conversation before the ceremony, when she had come to my chambers to offer her apologies for the great sacrifice I was making. Tears had streamed down both our faces as we clung to each other. The thought of marrying a monster like Arthur for the sake of our kingdom weighed heavily on both our hearts. Was his marriage to a half-fae like myself truly enough to quell his rage and save our beloved Avalon?

"I love you," my mother whispered softly, her voice barely audible as she gave me an encouraging nod. Her eyes held a mixture of sorrow and pride that threatened to undo me completely.

"Mother," I breathed, offering her a pained smile before turning my attention back to the altar where Arthur stood, waiting for me with an unreadable expression.

"Only a few more steps," I thought, steeling myself as I drew nearer to the man who would soon become my husband – and my captor.

As I reached the altar, my gaze fell upon the King. His stern expression sent shivers down my spine and my heart raced with dread and disgust at the thought of our wedding night. How could tender kisses and caresses be expected from a man like him? It seemed impossible.

My eyes flickered to Merlin, who stood tall and slender just behind Arthur, as always. The powerful and mysterious wizard played a key role in Arthur's many victories. His magic was unknown to us fae and even surpassed our own. Long silver hair flowed down his back, and sharp, intelligent eyes assessed me as if he could read my every thought.

"Please, gather here today as we unite King Arthur and Princess Guinevere in holy matrimony," the priest intoned, beginning the ceremony.

As the priest spoke, I couldn't help but feel disconnected from the words he uttered. My heart belonged elsewhere, and yet, I knew I needed to endure this for the sake of my people.

"Guinevere, do you take King Arthur to be your husband?" the priest asked, his voice steady and solemn.

I hesitated, wanting desperately to scream "no" at the top of my lungs. But instead, I swallowed the lump in my throat, tears threatening to spill from my eyes as I whispered, "Yes, I do."

Arthur took my hand in his, and I felt a jolt of revulsion course through me. His grip was cold and rough, and as he slid the ring onto my finger, it felt like a shackle, a symbol of my lost freedom.

"King Arthur, do you take Guinevere to be your wife?" the priest continued, turning his attention to the imposing figure beside me.

"I do," Arthur replied, his voice firm and unyielding.

"Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

At that moment, Arthur's true nature revealed itself. Instead of a gentle embrace, he grabbed me violently by the waist, his fingers digging painfully into my flesh. My breath caught in my throat as his cold, demanding lips pressed against mine, invading my very being.

"Get off me," I wanted to scream, but no sound came out. It was as if his brutal touch had stolen my voice along with my freedom. His mouth tasted of iron and bitterness. The burning hatred within me threatened to come out, but I knew I had to keep it hidden.

"From this moment forth, you are bound as one," the priest declared.

Bound to a monster, my heart mourned, with no way out. But what choice did I have? To refuse would mean the destruction of Avalon, and I could not let that happen.

With a final, forceful kiss, Arthur released me, as the bells began to toll, their haunting melody a cruel reminder of my eternal captivity. As the guests cheered and clapped, I couldn't help but feel like they were celebrating my funeral rather than my wedding.

"What have I done?" I thought, fighting back tears as the weight of my decision settled upon me like a suffocating shroud. The truth was, without this marriage, Avalon would be nothing but ashes; I had made a pact with the devil himself to save my people.

"Arthur will only grow worse," a dark whisper echoed within my mind, filling me with dread. "You will suffer at his hands in ways you cannot imagine." But as the echo faded, another voice took its place, soft and soothing like a warm breeze.

"Love will find you, even here in Camelot," it promised, wrapping around my heart like a protective embrace. "In the most unexpected way, you will find solace."

They were my mother's words. She pronounced them right before the ceremony. At that moment, trapped by a man who would never understand the true meaning of love, I did not believe her. I couldn't.

Against all odds, it will turn out that she was right—love would soon find me at Camelot. Yet, before that could happen, I first had to face the most unimaginable horrors.