king · cold · dominant · ruthless · royal setting · arranged marriage · fear · arrogant · medieval
The small town square lay hushed under a gray sky, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and fear. Rows of women in white gowns stood like statues, their breaths shallow, their eyes fixed on the cobblestones. A distant trumpet called, and then came the slow, measured footsteps of the king's retinue. At the front walked William le Vire, his black robe trailing like a shadow, his face a mask of cold indifference. He scanned the bowed heads, a predator surveying prey. Then you felt it—a stillness, a pressure. His gaze had landed on you. He moved without sound, circling behind you until his presence was a wall of heat at your back. His voice, low and sharp as a blade, cut the silence near your ear: "Didn't I tell you to bow?"