I Woke Up Married to the Cursed King

The list was long.

Elian read it twice.

Water from a specific river in the western territories. A flower that only grew in the foothills there — he’d never heard of it. A particular clay. Incense from a specific tree. A length of cloth woven in a specific traditional pattern.

"These things exist?" Elian said.

"Of course they exist," Veira said. She was standing by the shrine, watching him read. "They’re from my land. Did you think I’d ask for things that don’t exist?"

"I’ve never heard of half of these."

"You’re not from here," she said. "That’s expected."

Elian looked at Riven. "Can you get these?"

Riven took the list. Read it. His eyebrows went up slightly. "The water specifically? From that river?"

"From that river," Veira confirmed, looking at the space where she knew Riven was even though he couldn’t see her.

Riven looked at Elian. "That’s a two day journey minimum."

"Then send someone today," Elian said.

It took four days.

Riven’s contacts came through — they always came through, which Elian had decided to stop questioning. The items arrived one by one. The flower, still fresh somehow. The clay wrapped carefully. The cloth, the incense, the water sealed in a specific vessel that Veira had specified down to the material it needed to be made of.

Elian prepared everything himself.

Veira watched.

She didn’t help. She just watched with the critical attention of someone who had seen this done correctly before and was checking whether he was doing it right.

He was, mostly. She corrected him twice. Quietly. Without making him feel foolish about it, which he appreciated.

When everything was arranged the way she wanted, she looked at the shrine.

At the items laid out.

At the space he’d cleared of ivy, down to the original stone.

"Kneel," she said.

He knelt.

What happened next he didn’t have words for. Not in his tradition or hers. Just — something passing between them. A connection establishing. The specific feeling of a very old power deciding to trust him with something.

When he opened his eyes, she looked different.

He’d seen her as a spirit. As a presence. As a woman standing in various parts of the palace being annoyed at him.

Now she looked like what she was.

The light around her had changed. The weight of her presence had changed. She was still the same face, the same person — but the scale of her was suddenly visible in a way it hadn’t been before.

Oh, Elian thought. You’re not small at all.

"You didn’t tell us who she was," Riven said.

They were walking back to the palace. Veira had stayed at the shrine, looking genuinely content for the first time since Elian had seen her.

"I didn’t know who she was," Elian said.

"She’s not like the other one," Riven said. "The divine being you brought in. That one is — minor. Old, but minor. This—" He looked back at the shrine. "This is different."

"How different," Elian said.

"In the western territories," Sable said, "Veira is not a minor deity." She said it like she was still processing it. "She’s one of the primary ones. Couples pray to her for children. For prosperity. For protection of their families." She paused. "She’s also known as a destroyer of evil. The western people’s belief in her is—" She stopped. "It’s significant. It’s been significant for centuries."

Elian stared at her.

"And she doesn’t do fortune telling," Sable added. "She’s famous for it. She’s literally famous for fortune telling. I don’t know why she said—"

"She said she doesn’t do it anymore," Elian said. "Not that she can’t."

Sable looked at him.

"Something happened," Elian said. "I don’t know what. I’m not going to ask yet."

They walked in silence for a moment.

"So what does being her anchor mean," Elian said. "Practically. What does that do to me."

Riven thought about it. "Think of it like land," he said. "Before you build anything, you need the ground to be in your name. You buy it. You get the permit. The land belongs to you and then you build on it." He paused. "The god works the same way. She needs the land — in this case, you — to be her anchor. Her connection to this place. You’re the plot. She’s building on you."

"That sounds alarming," Elian said.

"It’s not as alarming as it sounds," Riven said. "What it means practically is that you channel divine power. Some of it. When she acts through this place, it goes through you. Which is—"

"Which is a lot," Elian said.

"Which is a lot," Riven confirmed. "Yes."

"Should we have done this?" Elian said.

They both looked at Sable.

Sable didn’t hesitate.

"We don’t have a choice," she said. "We’re dealing with a seven foot demon that said peekaboo at us. We’re dealing with a Varek that outsmarted us during the eclipse. We’re dealing with a death curse that has a silencing trigger and we still don’t know who’s behind the main operation." She looked at Elian. "If a major western deity wants to anchor herself to you and destroy evil in exchange for offerings — you say yes. You say yes and you are grateful."

Elian looked at the shrine over his shoulder.

At the light that was somehow different around it now.

At Veira, no longer faded, no longer wandering.

Destroyer of evil, he thought.

That’s exactly what we need.

"Okay," he said. "Then we use it."

"We use it," Sable said.

They went inside.

Behind them, at the queen’s shrine, Veira settled into her anchor for the first time in twenty years.

And smiled.

Elian went to his study.

Sat down.

Stared at the wall.

Anchor, he thought. I am now the anchor for a major western deity.

He thought about what Riven had said. Divine power channeling through him. Veira acting through this place, through him, when she chose to.

Is that going to hurt, he thought.

Then: Probably not. Probably fine.

Then: Who am I kidding, I have no idea.

He picked up his pen.

He still had work to do. The mother’s shrine had given him Veira, which was something. But he still needed to understand what his father had done to the network. He still needed to find the body. He still needed to deal with whatever Malgur was. He still needed to figure out who was behind the main operation.

The list hadn’t gotten shorter. It had just gotten a slightly more divine ally.

He looked at the ceiling.

Children, Veira had said. Your children can come to the shrine.

He was not going to think about that.

He looked back at his notes.

He was absolutely going to think about that later.

Later, he told himself firmly. Everything later.

He started writing.

Somewhere outside, at the queen’s shrine in the east garden, Veira looked out at the palace she’d watched for twenty years and felt, for the first time in a very long time, like things were finally moving in the right direction.

She was not going to tell Elian that yet.

He needed to earn it first.

He went to Caelian’s study that evening.

Knocked.

"Come in."

Caelian was at his desk. He looked up when Elian entered. The specific attention he gave things when he’d decided they mattered.

"I found something in the east garden," Elian said. "The queen’s shrine."

Caelian went still.

"You knew about it," Elian said. Not accusing. Just noting.

"Yes," Caelian said.

"You never mentioned it."

"It wasn’t relevant." A pause. "I thought."

Elian looked at him. "There’s a deity connected to it. Your mother’s god. She’s been there since before you were born." He paused. "She’s been watching this palace for twenty years."

Caelian looked at his desk.

"She’s agreed to help," Elian said. "She’s anchored to me now. She’ll work against whatever is in this palace."

Silence.

"My mother’s god," Caelian said. Very quietly.

"Yes."

Caelian was quiet for a long moment.

"My mother used to go there," he said. "When I was small. She’d take me sometimes. I don’t remember the ritual. Just — the feeling of the place. The quiet of it." He paused. "After she died, I tried to go back once. But it felt wrong without her. So I stopped."

Elian looked at him.

"She stayed," Elian said. "The deity. She stayed even when no one came."

Caelian said nothing.

But something shifted in his face. Something that was not quite grief and not quite relief but sat between them.

"I didn’t know," he said finally.

"I know," Elian said.

He left him with it.

Went back to his own room.

Sat at the desk.

Thought about a deity who had stayed for twenty years because she didn’t want to leave the place where someone had prayed to her with genuine faith.

She stayed, he thought. Even with no anchor. Even with no devotion. She stayed.

He looked at his hands.

Some things stay, he thought. Even when they have every reason not to.

He picked up his pen.

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