The Bigshot's Superstar Wife-Chapter 54: Fated to Love You (Special Chapter)
In the grand empire of Zonrezia, a girl was born into the esteemed house of Duke Altherion. From the moment of her birth, it was said that the heavens had whispered her destiny.
She was no ordinary child, her silver hair shimmered like moonlight upon the sea, and her emerald eyes held the boundless depths of fate itself.
It was a rare phenomenon, one that had not appeared in centuries. The oracle’s words spread across the empire, a saintess had been born.
Alishiera was a child of divine grace, beloved by both the people and the gods.
She grew up within the sacred halls of the Celestial Temple, where the light of the divine flowed through her veins.
Her prayers were more than mere words, they carried power. The empire’s soldiers, weary and wounded from the war, would rise stronger after hearing her voice.
The mana within them surged with renewed strength, their magic flowing like an endless river.
Because of her, the empire flourished in battle, their banners never falling, and their victories celebrated across the land.
But for all the peace her faith brought, war still raged beyond the kingdom’s walls. At the forefront of every battlefield was Devancier, the empire’s crown prince.
With flowing purple hair that shone under the sun and eyes as golden as the empire’s crest, he was a vision of strength and resolve.
A warrior destined to guard his homeland against the darkness.
From a young age, he had known nothing but war, his hands were forged in blood, his heart steeled by countless victories.
The empire hailed him as their greatest protector, the sword that cut down all who dared to threaten their land.
Their paths had never crossed, for the prince belonged to the battlefield, while the saintess remained within the temple’s sacred grounds.
He fought with steel and fire, she healed with faith and devotion. Two souls existed in separate worlds, until the emperor’s decree shattered the boundary between them.
The royal court erupted with the news. The saintess and the crown prince were to be wed. It was not a union of love but of necessity, a bond to secure the empire’s strength.
The emperor saw the potential, a divine force blessed by the gods and an indomitable warrior feared by all.
Together, they would become the empire’s greatest shield, an unbreakable force that no enemy could stand against.
On the day of their wedding, the grand cathedral was adorned with golden roses, the scent of myrrh lingering in the air.
Alishiera stood at the altar, her silver hair cascading down her back like a river of light. Clad in regal white, she looked every bit the ethereal saintess the people worshipped.
Devancier, dressed in imperial black and gold, approached her with an expression unreadable.
His hands were calloused, bearing the marks of countless battles, while hers were soft, untouched by war.
Their vows were spoken not from love, but from duty.
He promised to protect her, not as a husband, but as the empire’s sword.
She vowed to stand by his side, not as a wife, but as the empire’s light.
Their hands were bound by sacred cloth, their fates intertwined.
That night, there was no love in their chambers, only quiet understanding, a silent agreement that their marriage was a contract sealed in faith and steel.
Days turned into months. They remained distant, each fulfilling their roles without intruding upon the other’s world.
Alishiera continued her prayers, her magic flowing into the soldiers who fought for their kingdom.
Devancier led his armies into battle, his sword cutting through the empire’s enemies with unyielding precision.
But something began to shift.
It started with stolen glances.
Devancier would return from war, his body bruised and weary, only to find her waiting for him at the temple gates.
She would place her hands upon his wounds, her touch soft yet filled with warmth. He had endured the pain of countless battles, yet it was her gentle touch that unraveled him.
"You always return covered in wounds," she murmured one evening, her voice filled with something he could not name.
He chuckled, though his voice was hoarse. "That is a warrior’s fate."
"And yet, I cannot help but wish you would not suffer so much."
He had been surrounded by soldiers all his life, men who bled and died without complaint. But she was different.
She did not see him as a warrior or a prince, she saw him as a man who bore the weight of war alone. And he found himself unable to look away.
For Alishiera, the change was even more subtle.
She had always viewed Devancier as an untouchable figure, the empire’s greatest warrior, a man made of steel and fire.
But as the days passed, she saw more, the quiet way he tended to his soldiers, the way he carried the names of the fallen in his heart.
He was not just a warrior. He was a man who bore the burden of countless lives, a man who fought not for glory, but for those who could not protect themselves.
She prayed for his safe return not because it was her duty, but because she wanted him to come back to her.
One evening, under the glow of the temple’s sacred lanterns, Devancier found himself watching her as she offered a prayer.
Her silver hair was illuminated by the golden light, her emerald eyes filled with devotion.
He spoke before he could stop himself. "Will you pray for me too, Alishiera?"
Her gaze met his, surprise flickering in her eyes. "I always do."
His breath hitched. He had never needed prayers before. He had never wanted them. But from her, he did.
From that moment, something fragile yet unbreakable formed between them. A connection neither could deny.
War came again, as it always did, but this time, Devancier rode into battle with something more than duty driving him forward.
And when he returned, he found Alishiera waiting, her relief evident in the way she reached for him without hesitation.
They no longer spoke of their marriage as a contract. They no longer stood apart like strangers bound by duty.
They had become something else.
The kingdom soon gave them new titles.
Alishiera, the Saintess of the North, her prayers a beacon of hope.
Devancier, the Prince of the South, the empire’s unwavering shield.
Two souls who had once lived in different worlds, were now bound together not just by fate, but by love.
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And though they had never sought it, love had found them all the same.
