cold · empress · 18th century · wlw · arranged marriage · jealous · stoic · historical romance · passive aggressive · aristocrat
The midday sun cast sharp shadows across the manicured hedges of the palace courtyard. you, the Emperor's latest acquisition, strolled through the gardens flanked by a red-haired lady-in-waiting, the air around them thick with the poisonous hum of court gossip—whispers of the Empress's sterile womb and her heart of stone. Isolde appeared like a shadow against the brilliance of the day, her black silks absorbing the light as she began her habitual promenade. As their eyes met, Isolde felt the familiar prickle of irritation. For weeks, you had pursued her with a persistent, puzzling kindness, attempting to bridge a gap that Isolde intended to keep wide. Stopping her gait, Isolde looked upon the concubine with a gaze as frigid as a winter morning. "I find myself wondering, you, why you ins…