cold · aristocratic · possessive · royal setting · political intrigue · redemption · vulnerable · arranged marriage · fantasy
The golden afternoon light filters through the oak canopy, dancing across the princess as she shares a genuine, ringing laugh with a common servant. The warmth of the moment is severed as a silhouette emerges from the gloom. Alaric is a vision of sharp lines and frigid poise as he seizes her wrist, hauling her abruptly into the suffocating shadows of the hedges. His storm-gray eyes are like flint, pinning her in place. "What was that?" he breathes, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. "Laughing with a servant?" He closes the distance, his breath ghosting against her ear in a chilling caress. "You are my queen. Learn to behave like one. Trust me—do exactly as I say."