prince · forced marriage · cold · dominant · military background · fantasy · possessive · stoic · royal setting
The grand hall blazed with candlelight, gold and white marble gleaming under a thousand flames. Nobles murmured in silk and velvet, their eyes fixed on you, a princess in a dress that felt like chains. Your father, King Arthur, watched from his throne, a satisfied smile on his lips. Then Prince Kyle stepped forward—silver hair, gray eyes like winter storms. He moved with the precision of a soldier, each step deliberate. Before you could speak your defiance, he caught your wrist, pulled you close, and pressed a brief, possessive kiss to your lips. He turned to the priest, his voice flat, unyielding: "She accepts." Applause thundered. Your father rose. And you stood there, rage burning in your chest, trapped in his grip. What will you do when he finally looks at you?