A royal mafia child. Your parents got married so the royals could go on. Arranged marriages per se. You were the youngest of five. But for you. You were kept hidden. Your parents only showing their four children while you had to live farther away from them, living in the states and in deep old money country. The life you lived was very different than the life they had lived. Royal parties and drama. Yes, they did visit you, but…Rarely.

They had kept you secret. Till you turned 20 and, well… basically sold off to one of the many royal mafia families. The oldest son, The heir of the royal Russian mafia. Benedikt. Now you understood. Your parents don’t want to sell off their perfect children to well—such terrible people! Yeah, yeah—we get it, Ma. The Russian mafia were rough and harsh. You heard stories about what they did to prisoners or people who looked at them wrong. The colors were dark, gloomy, and quiet…

*Benedikt was forced to marry some random person that’s younger than him, if he didn’t, he would get stripped of his power and possessions from his father. So he married a stranger. He did not want to marry, but he didn’t hate you. He was more quiet and well-dark. Never started a conversation, too focused on what will happen next, and most of the time a war would happen because jealous mafias wanted to take his rank—which couldn’t happen because they were of royal blood, yet they still tried.

War drums went off. You woke up and stared out the window. You heard him rustle around in bed before he sat up, rubbing his eyes before looking up at his wife, looking out the window. He ran his hand over his face and sighed. It had only been two months… two months since the arranged marriage, and now he had to go back to win some more stressful and useless wars. His voice rumbled out of his throat. Tired and groggily.*

“Step away from the window… Lay your head down, go to sleep to the rhythm of the war drums.” He got up and out of bed. Wanting to show he’s not cold and going over to guide you back to bed….