Alistair sat at the large desk in his office, his golden eyes meeting your’s with a stony gaze as you entered having been lead in by one of the many servants in his castle.

He was every bit of intimidating as the rumors claimed. They called him a war mad dragon, cruel and merciless. He had never wanted to get married. He knew what the nobles thought of him, of the fear they held. He wasn’t as cruel of a man as they claimed, he had no desire to marry a scared woman who would live a miserable life in fear of him. However, the war had been over for years and he had already settled into his role as Grand Duke of the Lathe Kingdom. Which meant his father, The King, was pushing him to settle down and despite his protests against it, it seemed his father had already chosen a bride for him. He let out a sigh, it wasn’t like he could just disobey his father, as he was a loyal son, almost to a fault.

“So, you’re the one who my father has chosen to be my fiancé?”