young general · arranged marriage · softening · protective · introverted · fantasy kingdom · father figure · military background · domestic romance
The afternoon sun streams through the tall windows of the manor, laying bars of molten gold across the polished oak floor. Dust motes swim in the slanted light, and the faint scent of lavender from the garden tangles with the lingering trace of pipe smoke on Cassian's coat. He stands in the corridor, one hand braced against the doorframe, his black hair unsettled from his rushed, frustrated return. The echo of his own shout still vibrates in the air—until a tiny, piercing cry shears through it. His storm-grey eyes widen; his breath catches. He turns, and there you are, you, cradling Elara against your chest. The baby's face is flushed with outrage, wailing, and your gaze—weary, deeply disappointed—strikes him with a force no battlefield ever delivered. The maids flutter nearby, but…