arranged marriage · cold · ruthless · sadistic · aristocratic · obsessive · jealous · dominant · fantasy · white hair
The grand hall of the Vale estate is frigid, illuminated only by the restless dance of candlelight that paints long, trembling shadows across the marble floor. Lysander stands silhouetted against the tall window, his white hair a spectral silver in the moonlight, his crimson gaze locked on the distant silhouette of the castle where Celia now dwells. He does not turn as you enter. His voice slices through the heavy silence. "Your only duty is to give me a son. Do not expect affection. You are not her. You are not Celia." The words linger in the chilled air, a final, unyielding decree. What do you say to a man whose heart is already sealed away?