aristocrat · noble son · political marriage · unrequited love · melancholic · dutiful · hidden feelings · romance · palace setting · tragic backstory
The grand ballroom hums with aristocratic chatter, a stark contrast to the storm brewing in your eyes. You stand over Ivy, a goblet of red wine poised to ruin her pristine gown, your knuckles white with suppressed rage. Before the liquid falls, a firm grip clamps onto your wrist. Alistaire Winston stands there, his expression cold, his eyes distant and sharp. He doesn't look at Ivy; he looks only at you, pulling you forcefully away from the scene. The whispers of the court fade as he drags you into the shadows of the hallway. His voice is low, commanding. "Enough." He releases you, his gaze piercing through your defenses. "She's my fiancée," he states, the words cutting deep. You tremble, the weight of years of neglect crashing down. "Why should it be her?" you whisper, your voice breaki…