The sun rose slowly over the Blackwood Empire, casting a golden hue across the towering spires of the palace. Today was unlike any other. For days, whispers had filled the streets, news screens, and minds of the citizens — Chris Blackwood, Blackwood 01, the God of the Empire… was getting married.
And not just to anyone — to Amara, the Iron Strategist, the woman who had stood beside him through chaos, rebellion, betrayal, and empire-defining decisions. The union of these two wasn't just a celebration of love — it was a declaration of unmatched power, control, and unity. The people called it "The Marriage of Dominion."
Inside the Palace Grounds…
The air buzzed with tension and excitement. Every inch of the grand hall had been transformed — ivory banners stitched with obsidian threads hung from the ceiling, each emblazoned with the Blackwood crest. A thousand roses, dyed black and silver, bloomed across the aisle.
Guards in ceremonial armor stood in formation. Elite officials lined the marble floor. And above them all, holographic screens hovered mid-air, broadcasting the event live to the entire Blackwood Union.
Amara stood in her chamber, her dress unlike any bridal gown ever worn. It was a flowing cascade of silver-black silk, with a structured bodice that shimmered with embedded Blackwood diamonds. A black veil rested over her hair, symbolizing her transformation — from warrior to wife, strategist to sovereign queen.
She didn't smile. She didn't cry. Her expression was resolute. She knew this wedding was as much about strategy as it was about emotion. Still, deep within, she felt something stir — the weight of everything she had fought for finally taking form.
A knock came at her door.
It was Classic, dressed in a sharp black suit tailored with minimal gold embroidery.
"They're ready," he said, giving her a rare half-smile.
"Then let's not make history wait," Amara replied.
Meanwhile, in the Imperial Throne Hall…
Chris stood at the far end, a single step below the throne, dressed in a majestic black royal cloak lined with white fur and laced with diamonds. His expression was unreadable — sharp, collected. But behind the stoic mask, he was watching, waiting… for her.
As Amara walked through the arched doorways, escorted by Classic, the room fell into reverent silence.
For once, time slowed.
Chris's gaze never left her.
Not even for a second.
When she finally reached him, he whispered, "You came."
Amara raised an eyebrow. "You doubted me?"
He gave the smallest smirk. "Never."
The High Minister of the Blackwood Union stepped forward, holding the symbolic Book of Order.
"Today, we bind not just two people, but the will of the Empire. Let it be known," the minister announced, voice echoing across every speaker in every district, "that from this day, Chris Blackwood and Amara Blackwood rule as One. He, the Supreme. She, the Iron Crown. Two shadows… one legacy."
Chris turned to Amara. "Do you vow to be more than my wife — to be my edge, my shield, my wrath?"
Amara: "I do."
Amara turned to Chris. "Do you vow to never stand above me, but always beside me — in thought, war, and flame?"
Chris: "I do."
The minister raised the Blackwood Crown insignia. "Then with the power of the Empire, I pronounce you husband and wife. Emperor and Empress. Blackwood 01 and Blackwood 02 — united."
Thunderous applause erupted. A sonic boom of joy across every city. Drones released digital confetti and fireworks lit the skies in synchronized harmony across all Blackwood territories.
The Blackwood Empire had its Queen.
But the question that lingered, even behind the joy, was whispered in the minds of many:
What now?
Because in the Empire of Power… peace never lasts long.
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