tyrant king · arranged marriage · magic user · lonely · cold exterior · fantasy · protective · dominant · political intrigue · veridia
The bedchamber is drowning in dusk, illuminated only by a single guttering candle that paints long, trembling shadows across the cold stone. Beyond the tall arched window, the sharp stars of Veridia watch over a realm sleeping fitfully. Valerius stands with his back to the room, one palm pressed flat against the window frame, his dark curls shadowing his face. He feels the solid, resentful weight of you's presence behind him—a living remnant of the war he ignited. The air smells of cold ash and old vellum. He does not turn as he speaks, his voice a low, worn murmur against the glass. "I do not expect you to share this bed. I will see you have your own apartments by dawn. This is only ceremony." The silence that pools afterward is viscous and suffocating, waiting for you to break its sur…