Damn, I Have to Marry the Strongest Antagonist at the Start?

"Your Majesty, we are ten miles from the secluded residence of the High Priest of the God of Light Temple. If all goes well, he may be able to heal the Grand Elder's injuries."

Beside the carriage, a knight clad in shining silver armor spoke respectfully.

There was no reply from within the carriage.

Outside, two high-rank mages guided the vehicle, while a dozen mid-rank knights surrounded the convoy in a tight protective formation.

Such a formation was top-tier across the entire continent.

In this world of sword and sorcery, power levels ranged from one to nine, and both mages and knights were classified into novice rank, mid-rank, high-rank, and then Grand Archmage or Hero Knight at the pinnacle.

Each Grand Archmage or Hero was a pillar of their kingdom. Their magic could command the elements, reshape the land, and decide the outcomes of wars.

These mighty figures often lived in seclusion, only appearing when their nation faced grave danger.

High-rank mages and knights were the backbone of a kingdom, revered across the land. Even mid-rank warriors were considered formidable; many minor clans were led by individuals of this caliber.

Inside the carriage, Yevna wore a regal violet robe. She gently held a single withered peach blossom petal in her hand, lost in thought.

Her eyes would soften with warmth, then narrow in distress—her expression a blend of emotions too complex to name.

"Owen… without me by your side, have these past years been kind to you? Has Elena grown up strong and healthy? Have you told her our story?"

She whispered softly, memories of her time with Owen in the mountain valley surfacing in her mind—moments of peace, laughter, and warmth.

Owen, my love… Do you know that these eight years apart, I've missed you and our daughter every single day?

As Yevna sank into her memories, a fit of weak coughing pulled her back to the present.

"Cough, cough… Your Majesty, thinking of him again?"

The speaker was the Grand Elder of the Glacier Empire—a high-rank mage who had once earned great glory in the magic wars.

Now, gravely injured and on the brink of death, he had become the empire's last pillar of stability.

Their current journey to the God of Light's sanctuary was a desperate attempt to save him, in hopes that the High Priest's divine magic could heal his fatal wounds.

Yevna turned to face him, a trace of concern in her eyes. "Grand Elder, are you feeling any better?"

As she spoke, she gently cast another healing spell over him. Yet despite her efforts, his labored breathing continued unabated.

A flicker of disappointment passed through Yevna's gaze.

The Glacier Empire was currently teetering on the edge. That it hadn't collapsed into civil war yet was thanks solely to this venerable old man. If anything were to happen to him… Yevna dared not imagine the consequences.

The Grand Elder waved a weak hand and glanced at the peach blossom petal in her palm. "Your Majesty… is that from the valley where he lives?"

Yevna nodded slightly. "Since you already know, why ask?"

"Your Majesty, during your years of amnesia, you lived with that man—Owen. By the laws of the kingdom, he should've been executed," the elder said solemnly, a glint of steel in his eyes. "But… I saw the happiness you shared with him. It was a kind of joy I'd never seen in you before. I understand why you chose what you did."

He paused, his tone softening.

"But Owen… he is just an ordinary man. He has no magic, no noble lineage. He's not worthy of standing at your side. To be your consort, a man must possess either unmatched magical might to command respect across the continent—or noble blood to stabilize the empire."

He looked deeply into her eyes.

"Your Majesty, the empire is in turmoil. Internal factions are restless, and foreign nations circle like vultures. If your relationship with Owen were to be exposed, it would spark massive unrest—and he would almost certainly be killed. Even you might not be able to protect him."

"I beg you to think of the empire… and of the countless citizens who depend on you."

He finished his words, only to break into another violent coughing fit.

Yevna opened her mouth to reply, but stopped herself.

Eight years ago, she had been a princess of the Glacier Empire—framed by her brothers, disfigured and left to die.

Had it not been for Owen, who found and cared for her, she would've been devoured by wolves before ever regaining her memories.

It was Owen who nursed her back to health.

It was in his quiet mountain valley that she found peace, rebuilt her life, and gave birth to their daughter, Elena.

Later, when her memories returned, she was secretly escorted back to the royal palace. With the Grand Elder's support, she reclaimed her throne and became Empress.

But becoming Empress had not made her life easier.

The court was a nest of serpents. The nobility fought over power and territory, and her elder brother never ceased plotting to reclaim the throne.

To protect Owen and Elena, she had never dared to acknowledge them. She could only pour her longing into that single peach blossom petal—her last remaining connection to their past.

"If I cannot be with the one I love… then what's the point of ruling the world?" Yevna thought silently. "Ten thousand miles of mountains and rivers… are not worth as much as a single smile from Owen. If he hadn't once said he wanted to see the splendor of the empire, I would never have returned to fight for the crown. One day… I will declare his name to the world and make him the happiest man alive."

"Whoa!" The driver suddenly pulled the reins, and the carriage came to a gradual halt.

"Your Majesty," a knight reported, approaching the window. "There's a young girl on a pony blocking the road. What are your orders?"

Yevna frowned slightly.

This trip had been conducted in utmost secrecy. The Grand Elder's life, and by extension the fate of the kingdom, hung in the balance.

A single delay could spiral into chaos.

"Could this be a trap?" another knight muttered, reaching for his sword. His eyes turned sharp and cold. "Shall I handle it?"

"No need. Don't stir up trouble. Just tell her to move along," Yevna ordered calmly from behind the curtain.

The knight nodded and approached the girl.

As he opened his mouth to speak, the girl looked up—cheeks stuffed with bread—and mumbled, "Uncle, where am I?"

But the knight froze.

His eyes widened in disbelief.

This… This can't be!

The girl's face—her features—she looked exactly like Yevna when she was young!

He ignored her question and ran back to the carriage in a panic.

"Your Majesty! That girl… she looks exactly like you did when you were a child!"

He had grown up with Yevna. He could never mistake her childhood appearance.

Yevna's heart skipped a beat. "Is that so? Bring her here. I want to see her with my own eyes."

Moments later, Elena was brought to the Empress.

The little girl, with her twin ponytails and wide, curious eyes, stood before her.

Yevna stared, and a powerful wave of emotion welled up inside her.

The Grand Elder sat upright, closely observing both the Empress and the girl.

"How… how can there be two people in the world who look so alike?" he murmured, eyes fixed on Elena's round cheeks and bright expression.