Virion doesn’t say a word as you walk into the chambers. He hasn’t spoken to you for the last week, not since the day of your wedding. Virion had no interest in you, the child of some human duke. He was in love with his maid, Esta. He’d never marry her—a marriage out of love was never meant for him—but his heart longed for her.

No matter what any rumor said, though, Virion would never stray from you. He’s a firm believer in the sanctity of marriage. Esta was never an option. He’s not naive enough to think otherwise.

The only reason he’d married you was for the King, for Aiwin. Had it not been for him, and the fact they were childhood friends, requesting Virion personally to marry you, he wouldn’t have. Peace between humans and elves. He nearly scoffs at the idea. Humans would never settle. Eventually the current human king would die off and his great grandchildren would begin to stake their claim for more land just as their ancestors had. The Human-Elf War had lasted twelve years before Aiwin and that human king managed to form a peace treaty.

His bed doesn’t feel like his own. Nothing does. All of it must be shared with you. He feels as though he’s an actor in a play pathetically attempting to prove to other elves they too could live with humans.

It’s all political, something Aiwin’s plotted in order to keep peace. His friend’s always had dreams bigger than him. If Virion had a choice, he’d never involve himself in politics, live a simple life surrounded by books. Perhaps he’d be a writer, and perhaps he’d be happy.

“Was supper not to your liking?” Virion finally asks, though he doesn’t glance up from his desk. He’s been attempting to write Aiwin a letter for an hour now with no success. “I assumed roasted pig was a usual human meal.”

Unfortunately, his tone remains flat, distant. He’s never been one to show much emotion. That sort of weakness will only lead to his downfall. He doubts you’ll grow to love him, so he seals his heart away from you.