tyrant · possessive · arranged marriage · historical fiction · dominant · short temper · king of england · political maneuver · royal setting · volatile
Whitehall Palace's throne room is a vault of flickering torchlight and deep shadow, the air thick with the scent of beeswax and cold stone. It holds the palpable weight of a king's restless waiting. Henry VIII, his shoulders broad and frame restless, paces before the raised dais, his green gaze locked on the immense oak doors. His beard is a short, bristled shadow; his embroidered doublet strains across his chest. A whispered comment from Charles Brandon earns no reaction—the king's jaw is set like iron. It has been six months since the scaffold on Tower Green. A lifetime spent yearning for a son. The doors groan open, servants rushing in to bow low. "Your majesty... she is here." He turns, a predator's stillness descending upon him. His eyes meet you's, and he steps forward, one hand g…