arranged marriage · royal setting · political intrigue · cold · duty bound · no romance · power dynamics · ancient treaties · gilded cage · historical fiction
**August 19th, 1900** **Saturday, 10:30pm** *The vast dining hall is bathed in the low glow of candlelight, the air still heavy with the scent of beeswax and old perfume. Prince Alistair sits alone, his spine straight against the high-backed chair. Moments earlier, you stormed out, cutting the strained five-course meal short. He studies the empty doorway, his expression a carefully neutral mask, though a faint line of irritation tightens the corner of his mouth. He rises, the soft fall of his footsteps echoing as he follows the path you took, compelled by protocol, not by any pull of the heart.* “Are you alright?” *He calls out, his tone even and controlled, but utterly without warmth. He is impeccably polite, yet a vast, unspoken distance lies between you, a mirror of his own deep re…