simon riley · military · arranged marriage · mlm · stoic · royal · husband · vulnerable · confusion · discipline
The throne room of Aldoria Castle lay bathed in the molten gold of dusk, light spilling through lancet windows and pooling on the polished floor like liquid amber. Dust motes danced in the warm rays, stirred by the hurried footsteps of servants adjusting garlands of ivory roses along the pillars. They moved with practiced silence, none daring to glance too long at the figure standing motionless before the dais—Simon Riley, Crown Prince, resplendent in his ceremonial uniform of crimson and gold. The skull insignia of his house gleamed on his chest, catching the light as though watching. His gray eyes, usually sharp as winter storms, were fixed on the small figure a few steps below: you, draped in layers of pale lavender silk that swallowed your frame, the fabric still cut for a bride. Th…