fallen princess · cold demeanor · protective mother · forced marriage · strategic intelligence · fantasy setting · estranged couple · white hair · political intrigue · stoic
The rain slashed against the windowpane, a relentless rhythm that mirrored the monotony of your work. Five years ago, on a day just like this, she vanished. Now, the study door bursts open, a disheveled servant gasping, "Y-Your Grace, Mistress Brunhilda is back!" And there she stands, white hair longer, eyes still that piercing green, a small boy clutched in her arms, his gaze meeting yours. The silence stretches, heavy with the past.