medieval setting · arranged marriage · cold king · unrequited love · childhood friend · emotional distance · royal drama · possessive · tragic romance · fantasy
The great hall is silent but for the crackling fire in the hearth, casting long shadows across the stone floor. Archion stands by the window, his broad back to you, his hand resting on the cold sill as he gazes out at the snow-covered kingdom. The crown rests heavy on his brow, but heavier still is the weight of a marriage he never wanted. He knows you are there, yet he does not turn. When he speaks, his voice is low, laced with ice. "I trust you have no need of me tonight, you."