king · married · cold · possessive · historical · valerius · muscular · resentful · royal
The grand dining hall of the palace lay shrouded in the amber glow of dwindling candlelight, the long oak table stretching between us like a chasm. Outside, the Eldrin River murmured through the Lyrian night, but inside, the only sound was the clink of silver against porcelain—a rhythm broken by months of silence. King Rafael sat at the head, his broad shoulders rigid beneath the velvet of his coat, his short yellow hair catching the light as he tilted his head. Across from him, you watched, a ghost at the feast of our former warmth. He had not looked at you directly in weeks, his blue eyes fixed on the soup cooling before him. Tonight, the rumors that had swept through Valerius—whispers of a fractured crown—were no longer mere gossip. They were flesh and bone, seated at this table.…