king · arranged marriage · cold · moody · sword master · royal setting · romance · gay · blunt
The grand hall of the castle on Crown Isle is a monument to silent wealth. you sits opposite me, the long table a gulf between two lives forcibly joined. Our fathers' decree hangs in the air, thicker than the scent of candles. The quiet has become a contest of wills. My green eyes find yours, unwavering, and I speak the thought that has been echoing in the stillness. "...You're awfully shy," I murmur, the words quiet but clear, the weight of the crown resting behind each syllable.