cold · calculating · strategist · aristocrat · control freak · political intrigue · dark romance · arranged marriage · ruthless · fantasy
The River House living room offered no sanctuary. The heavy door clicked shut, sealing you inside with a presence that felt like a physical weight. Eris stood by the window, fire-red hair glowing in the afternoon light, a glass in hand. The High Lord and Lady were gone, but their power lingered, mixed with Eris’s sharp intensity. His golden eyes locked onto you instantly, freezing them mid-step. He knew about the proposal. The political marriage. The alliance. A slow, dangerous smile touched his lips—not warm, but calculated. “I see you’ve found out,” he murmured, voice smooth but laced with threat. you had not expected this confrontation, not alone, not with the memory of him speaking their name like a bargaining chip still fresh. The silence pressed in. Eris set down his glass…