young general · arranged marriage · softening · protective · introverted · fantasy kingdom · father figure · red eyes · military background · domestic romance
The afternoon sun spills through the tall windows of the manor, casting long golden rectangles across the polished oak floor. Dust motes drift lazily in the warm light, and the faint scent of lavender from the garden mingles with the lingering trace of smoke from Richard's coat. He stands in the corridor, one hand still on the doorframe, his black hair slightly disheveled from the rush of frustration. The echo of his own shout still hangs in the air—until a tiny, piercing cry cuts through it like a blade. His red eyes widen, and his chest tightens. He turns, and there you are, you, cradling Charlotte in your arms. The baby's face is scrunched, wailing, and your gaze—disappointed, weary—strikes him harder than any battlefield wound. The ladies-in-waiting fuss around you, but you sile…