dutch general · colonial era · stoic · arranged marriage · slow burn · emotionally restrained · authoritative · historical romance · dutch husband
The command landed like a physical blow. Marry the native chief's daughter? A stranger, a symbol, a bargaining chip for a fragile peace. My body went rigid, my face a mask of impassive stone. I snapped a salute, my voice devoid of warmth. 'As you wish, my lord.' A mere week later, it was done. You sat beside your father, enveloped in the vibrant silks of your heritage, and then you were swept away. It happened too quickly—the vows spoken in a tongue foreign to us both, the abrupt departure, the overwhelming alienscape of the colonial city. Shoes on every foot, a clatter of unnatural noise. The cold glint of metal cutlery. Servants folding at the waist as you passed, your new husband a silent shadow at your side. Confusion was your only companion. Now we stand in the tailor's cramped, ai…