Chapter Text
The mountain village had survived many things.
Harsh winters.
Landslides.
Flooded fields.
Years when the rice harvest barely filled half the storage houses.
Years when sickness carried away children before they ever reached adulthood.
But through every hardship, one thing had remained constant.
The tribute.
Every year, without fail, the village sent gifts to Ryomen Sukuna.
Rice.
Livestock.
Tools.
Timber.
Young men drafted for labor on roads, walls, and estates.
No one alive remembered when it had started. The oldest villagers only knew that their parents had paid tribute, and their grandparents before them.
It was simply the way of things.
Sukuna ruled these lands.
And people paid.
The alternative was unthinkable.
At least, that was what everyone believed.
Then the drought came.
The streams that wound through the mountains shrank into muddy trickles.
Fields cracked beneath the sun.
The rice failed.
The vegetable gardens failed.
Even the fruit trees bore little.
By autumn, families were already rationing food.
By winter, they were starving.
The village scraped together what little remained, but everyone knew it was impossible.
There was nothing left to give.
The meeting house had never felt so small.
Y/N sat near the back beside her father, listening as the village elders argued in low, strained voices.
“We cannot simply send nothing.”
“We have nothing.”
“He will kill us.”
“He’ll kill us if we starve first.”
The room fell silent.
Nobody had an answer.
Because there wasn’t one.
At the front of the room, Elder Kaito rubbed a hand over his lined face.
The old man looked ten years older than he had last spring.
“We must go ourselves.”
Several people flinched.
A personal audience with Sukuna was not something anyone wanted.
“You mean beg,” someone muttered.
The elder sighed.
“If necessary.”
Nobody argued.
Because begging was better than dying.
At least in theory.
Y/N stared down at her hands.
She had never seen Sukuna.
Nobody in the village had.
Not personally.
They only knew stories.
Stories about a king who slaughtered armies.
Stories about villages burned to the ground.
Stories about warriors split apart before they could even draw their weapons.
Some stories contradicted each other.
Others sounded impossible.
But nobody questioned one thing.
Ryomen Sukuna was dangerous.
The most dangerous man alive.
Three days later, the village elders departed.
The entire village gathered to watch them leave.
People prayed.
People cried.
People whispered farewells that sounded disturbingly close to last words.
Y/N watched her father stand among them.
His shoulders seemed heavier than usual.
Before leaving, he hugged her tightly.
Far tighter than normal.
It made something cold settle in her stomach.
The elders disappeared down the mountain road.
Then everyone waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Five days later they returned.
The entire village gathered again.
This time nobody looked relieved.
The elders looked pale.
Shaken.
Almost haunted.
Y/N immediately spotted her father among them.
He was alive.
That should have brought comfort.
Instead it made her more nervous.
Because he looked as though he’d seen something terrible.
The meeting house filled within minutes.
People packed shoulder to shoulder.
The silence felt suffocating.
Finally Elder Kaito stood.
His hands trembled.
“We met Lord Sukuna.”
Nobody spoke.
Nobody even breathed.
The elder swallowed.
“We explained the drought.”
Still silence.
“We explained that we could not pay.”
A woman near the back began crying quietly.
Y/N felt her own heart pounding.
Then Elder Kaito said something nobody expected.
“He accepted.”
The room erupted.
Questions came from every direction.
Accepted what?
How?
Why?
What did he demand?
The elder raised a hand for silence.
Slowly, reluctantly, the room quieted.
His expression darkened.
“He demanded payment.”
Of course he had.
Y/N almost laughed.
For one absurd second she had hoped.
Hope was dangerous.
The elder continued.
“We had nothing left to offer.”
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Then he looked directly at Y/N.
Her stomach dropped.
The room suddenly felt very cold.
“We offered your daughter.”
Her father’s face crumpled.
Y/N stared at him.
Then at the elder.
Then back again.
She couldn’t understand the words.
Not at first.
Her mind simply refused.
“We offered the village’s most beautiful daughter in marriage.”
The room went silent.
Completely silent.
Y/N felt as though someone had struck her.
“No,” she whispered.
Nobody heard her.
Or perhaps nobody wanted to.
The elder continued speaking.
His voice sounded distant.
Far away.
“We expected him to refuse.”
The old man laughed weakly.
It was a terrible sound.
“He didn’t.”
Y/N’s pulse roared in her ears.
No.
No, no, no.
This couldn’t be happening.
“He simply said, ‘Fine.’”
The elder’s voice shook.
“He named a wedding date.”
The room remained frozen.
Nobody seemed capable of processing it.
Y/N certainly wasn’t.
She stared blankly at the floorboards.
Marriage.
To Sukuna.
Marriage to a monster.
Marriage to a king.
Marriage to the man whose name frightened entire provinces.
Her hands began shaking.
“What happened after?” someone asked.
The elder blinked.
“As soon as he set the date, he dismissed us.”
“That’s all?”
The old man hesitated.
Then nodded slowly.
“Almost.”
The room waited.
“He said one more thing before we left.”
Y/N already hated whatever came next.
The elder swallowed.
“He said, ‘Do not return.’”
A murmur swept through the crowd.
Fear.
Everyone heard the threat.
Everyone understood it the same way.
The village had one chance.
One opportunity.
If they failed again, they were finished.
At least, that was how it sounded.
No one considered another possibility.
Least of all Y/N.
Because she could barely hear anything anymore.
The meeting dissolved into chaos.
Voices rose.
Arguments erupted.
Some people expressed sympathy.
Others looked relieved it wasn’t their daughter.
A few avoided her gaze entirely.
Y/N couldn’t blame them.
She wanted to avoid herself too.
Eventually she found herself outside.
The cold mountain air struck her face.
It wasn’t enough.
Nothing felt real.
Footsteps approached.
Her father.
He looked miserable.
“Y/N.”
She turned.
His eyes were red.
He looked close to tears.
For a moment neither spoke.
Then he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Something inside her broke.
“You offered me?”
His face twisted.
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Too quickly.
As though he’d been waiting to say it.
“It wasn’t me.”
Y/N stared at him.
The guilt in his expression told her everything.
He hadn’t stopped it.
Which was almost the same thing.
Her father looked away.
“We were desperate.”
She laughed.
A sharp, painful sound.
“Apparently.”
His shoulders slumped.
For the first time in her life, he looked helpless.
“I tried.”
Maybe he had.
Maybe he hadn’t.
At that moment it didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered.
The wedding date had already been set.
The decision had already been made.
Her life now belonged to someone else.
A week later she left the village.
The entire journey passed in a blur.
Mountain roads twisted through forests and valleys.
Villages appeared and disappeared.
Travelers moved aside the moment they saw the escort sent to retrieve her.
Nobody questioned where she was going.
The answer was obvious.
Y/N barely slept.
Every night she imagined a different fate.
Perhaps Sukuna would kill her.
Perhaps he would imprison her.
Perhaps he would ignore her entirely.
She wasn’t sure which possibility frightened her most.
By the seventh day, the mountains began to thin.
The road curved around a ridge.
One of the escorts gestured ahead.
“We’ve arrived.”
Y/N looked up.
Then stopped breathing.
The palace dominated the landscape.
Massive black walls stretched across the hills like the spine of some sleeping beast.
Towering watchtowers pierced the sky.
Stone battlements gleamed beneath the afternoon sun.
Banners snapped in the wind.
An entire fortress city surrounded the central palace.
Not a home.
Not an estate.
A kingdom.
A monument to power.
And at the heart of it all stood the palace itself.
Immense.
Ancient.
Unyielding.
Built for someone who expected the world to fear him.
Y/N stared at it in horror.
The scale alone was overwhelming.
It looked less like a place where people lived and more like something carved directly into the earth by a god.
Or a monster.
The carriage continued forward.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
The gates began opening.
Slowly.
Patiently.
Like the jaws of a waiting beast.
Y/N’s hands clenched in her lap.
There was no turning back now.
Beyond those gates waited Ryomen Sukuna.
Her future husband.
The King of Curses.
And whatever fate he had decided for her.