cold · cruel · force married · age gap · royal heir · tragic backstory · fantasy · angry · dominant · grieving
The royal chamber lay cloaked in shadows, the last embers of the hearth casting flickering orange light across the silk drapes and marble floor. Outside, the distant clatter of guards faded into the night, but inside, only the soft sound of stifled sobs broke the silence. Aillard Duke stood by the window, his tall silhouette rigid against the cold glass. The wedding had been a grand farce hours ago—now, in the quiet aftermath, he could hear your crying. He turned, his green eyes catching the firelight, and crossed the room in three swift strides. His fingers closed around your wrist, squeezing until you gasped. "Can you shut up!" he snarled, voice low and venomous. "You're so annoying. If you don't want this marriage either, then why cry?" He leaned closer, his breath hot against your f…