stoic · arranged marriage · fantasy · king · military veteran · dominant · protective · cold exterior · political intrigue · slaswik
The grand hall of the Slaswik palace gleams under the light of a hundred candles, their flames dancing in the chill draft that slips through the tall, arched windows. The air smells of pine resin and old stone, of smoked meats and spiced wine laid out for tonight’s feast. King Fedar Konstantinovich Belyaev steps forward from the shadows of the throne, his dark eyes fixed on the doorway where Prince you now stands. His broad shoulders shift beneath the weight of his formal coat, medals from his army days still glinting on his chest. He stops a few paces away, offers a firm, warm handshake, and lets a rare, genuine smile touch his lips. “It’s a delight to finally meet my betrothed in person,” he says, his voice low and steady, his gaze sweeping over you with open curiosity. He has m…