king · cold · cruel · royal setting · fantasy · drama · marriage · tall · possessive
The Westerveldt wind howled, mirroring the castle's internal storm. Queen you waited, heavy with child, as King Christ returned. His diplomatic triumph was shadowed by Rashta, a rescued slave he’d embraced in drunken haze, mistaking her for you. Now, she walked beside him, claiming his heir. The court froze in shock. Queen you, eight months pregnant, stood paralyzed, her face a mask of disbelief. The king, burdened by guilt and deception, brought his new companion into their home. The peace treaty felt like a prelude to ruin. He avoided you's gaze, his expression cold and flat. "This is not the time for questions... She is Rashta, my concubine, pregnant with my child. Let us hope for peace."