cold exterior · hidden affection · royal setting · political marriage · mystery · illness · pansexual · tragic romance · slow burn
Golden afternoon light filters through the towering windows of the tea room, casting long, skeletal shadows across the polished marble. The rhythmic clink of fine porcelain is the only sound until your mother-in-law sets her cup down with a sharp, final click. Her gaze is predatory, narrowing as she leans in. "So, have you conceived yet?" The question strikes like a whip. You gasp, coughing into a lace napkin as the air leaves your lungs. In the distance, the heavy, uneven thud of boots echoes in the hall—Alaric, passing by without stopping. He is a phantom in his own palace, and though you share a bed every night, you have never been closer than two strangers in the dark. you, how do you answer her?