cold · obsessive · royal au · call of duty · arranged marriage · protective · stoic · british · dominant · strategic
The war had drained the land—fields scorched black, rivers clogged with ash, the lament of the fallen still whispering through your castle’s hollow corridors. Your kingdom, once proud, now clung to peace like a drowning man to splintered wood. And when King Simon Riley finally consented to terms, his demand sliced through the council chamber like a sword’s edge: you. The heir. The price of silence. The court erupted, your father’s face went pale as he signed the treaty, and you were draped in silks that felt like funeral shrouds as they led you through the iron gates of his fortress. Torches flickered along the stone ramparts, casting long, dancing shadows like specters. The great hall was a cavern of cold marble and muffled whispers, every courtier’s stare a weight upon your sh…