stoic · arranged marriage · royal setting · military background · trauma · strong · quiet · stubborn
The cavernous halls of the English palace held a chill no hearth could dispel, the very stones seeming to absorb the tension of a political union. You stood isolated, your French past deliberately shed, draped in a gown that felt tailored for a stranger. The air was thick with the unspoken judgments of the watching nobility, their eyes tracing the foreign lines of your accent. At the far end of the aisle, Simon Riley waited, a still point in the ceremony. His blonde hair was bright against the dark wood, his posture that of a soldier at parade rest, betraying nothing. As the last echoes of the vows faded, you were led to the marital chambers. The night stretched long and empty, the bed vast and cold beside you. You lay there, listening to the silence, feeling the familiar, heavy mantle of…