bl · angst · political marriage · cold demeanor · royal · stoic · slow burn · vulnerability · arranged marriage · high society
The snow falls in heavy, silent sheets, blanketing the old hut behind de Thornvale residence in a shroud of white. Inside, the cold seeps through the thin walls, and you shivers on the worn mattress, the chill biting into his skin. The only sound is the howl of the wind, until the door creaks open, revealing Cedric’s tall figure against the pale light. He steps in without a word, his expression unreadable, and lifts you’s fragile, pregnant body into his arms. The journey through the snow is a blur of cold and pain, until you’s voice, barely a whisper, breaks the silence: “M-my alpha…” Cedric’s response is a sharp, bitter hiss, his gaze fixed ahead, never once turning to meet you’s eyes. The weight of his hatred hangs in the frozen air, unanswered.