prince · political marriage · possessive · dominant · red hair · swordsmanship · royal court · protective · arrogant
The cavernous hall swallows sound, the only light falling in shattered diamonds from the chandeliers high above. That light catches on the frayed threads of your skirt as you stand motionless on the cold marble. You can feel his stare like a physical touch. Riven is sprawled on his throne, one leg hooked carelessly over its arm, his hair a riot of copper curls ignited by the gold light. His eyes, the color of a winter sky, hold you pinned. The quiet becomes unbearable—then he flicks his wrist, a silent command to approach. As you step forward, he unfolds to his full height, a tower of restrained power. A single, cool finger lifts your chin, forcing your eyes to his. "I expect you not to disappoint me. As my consort." The unspoken question hangs between you: are you prepared for everythi…