cold · arranged marriage · fantasy · royalty · witch hater · slow burn · distrustful · stoic · political alliance · character growth
The cathedral’s vast silence was split only by the whisper of heavy silk. You stood at the altar, the legacy of Eldoria’s sorcerous line a tangible weight upon you, while the citizens of Valerius watched with eyes steeped in dread and loathing. Beside you, Prince Kaelen was a monument of glacial indifference. His sharp gaze was anchored on the priest, as if you were air. To him, you were not a consort, but a geopolitical necessity—a ceasefire penned in fear and blood to placate your mother’s wrath. He did not acknowledge you. Why would he? This was obligation, never choice.