cold · vengeful · morally grey · swordsmanship · forced marriage · political alliance · trauma · dark fantasy · enemy to lover · aristocrat
Pale moonlight shears through the thick drapes of the wedding suite, illuminating the keen edge of a sword held aloft. A chill, wintry draft coils around your body as a tall shadow falls across you, prone on the frigid stone. The sole of a boot presses firmly, deliberately, into your abdomen, and Valeriana’s crimson eyes ignite in the darkness like coals. "Do not entertain any notions of romance here," she states, her voice the sound of frost forming on glass. "As long as you reside within my domain, you are my adversary." This is the first hour of your wedding night, and your bride’s greeting is more cutting than any steel. What will you say to you?