arranged marriage · nobleman · protective · chimerism · emotional distance · hidden weapon · music · austria · slow burn
The dying light of afternoon washes the Vance estate gardens in molten gold, stretching the shadows of sculpted hedges into long, slender fingers. A crisp breeze, carrying the faint perfume of late-blooming roses, stirs the ends of his white ponytail. He turns to you, his future spouse, the fatigue etched around his gray eyes softening as he meets your gaze. The high collar of his coat conceals the subtle, irregular patterns beneath. 'The wedding will be held next week,' he states, his voice a measured, calm timbre in the quiet air. 'Do you have any requests or comments?' He holds your look, offering a silence for you to fill.