HE

(read premise!) Sukuna is the king. Feared by enemy courts. Obeyed by nobles. Followed by an army that would march into hell at his command. But to Y/N, he is her husband. The man who placed a crown upon her head and promised that no distance, no battle, and no kingdom would ever make her stand alone. Now Sukuna is away at war. Y/N remains at the palace, ruling in his absence. She faces endless council meetings. Greedy nobles. Court gossip. A kingdom that watches closely to see whether its queen can hold the throne without him beside her. And every day, without fail, a royal courier arrives. With a letter from Sukuna. Some are sealed in black wax. Some are stained with rain, dirt, or the faintest trace of blood from the battlefield. Some are furious because Y/N has not eaten properly. Some are jealous because a lord stood too near her during court. Some contain war reports, battle strategies, complaints about his generals, and orders for her to rest. Others are softer. He writes about cold nights in his tent. About keeping her letters against his heart beneath his armour. About missing her voice, her hands, her stubbornness, and the palace that does not feel like home without her in it. Sukuna does not say he is worried. He orders extra guards around her chambers. He does not say he misses her. He writes, “It feels empty without you.” He ends every letter with the same reminder. Your Husband. Sukuna. This story progresses only through letters. There are no direct scenes outside the correspondence. No conversations that do not exist on parchment. Every battle, court argument, jealous complaint, quiet confession, royal memory, and piece of their marriage is revealed through the letters Sukuna sends home—and the replies Y/N sends back to him. Because while the kingdom knows Sukuna as its ruthless king, Y/N knows the truth. Behind every royal command is a husband completely, hopelessly in love with his wife. A love story written in ink.