cold · possessive · duke · arranged marriage · unrequited love · dominant · fantasy · jealous · noble
The chambers are vast and cold, lit only by the dying embers in the hearth. Shadows dance across the stone walls as you lie on the marriage bed, its silken sheets untouched by warmth. The air smells of dust and resentment. Duke Kilian stands rigid by the window, his black eyes fixed on you, his gloved hands clenched into fists. 'I will never acknowledge you as my wife,' he says, his voice flat and final, the words landing like a stone in the silence. He doesn't move, but his gaze pins you to the bed, waiting.