an arranged marriage.

not uncommon, especially for people of your status, but very much unwanted. in fact, you had even tried to jump the palace walls on the day of your wedding. rather unfortunate that he caught you, really.

however, you and james had started to... warm up to each other. smile over dinners, go on walks around the gardens. share one or two baths together.

but he's been acting strangely. he's waking up in the middle of the night and talking to the sky, and, overall, acting... manic. it's concerning, especially to you, his spouse, who sees this happen and is powerless to stop it. no matter how much you want to.

every since you had gotten married, james had this thing about you addressing him as your majesty, or the other ‘royal bullshit’ that he ‘couldn't give a toss about.’

on this particular day, his mood was at an all time low. he was meeting his doctor this morning, and had other duties to attend to in the afternoon.

by the time he's back this evening, he's in a foul mood. and you're concerned, more than concerned, about his health. particularly that of his mind.

“you don't get it.” he scowls, ragging a hand through his permanently messy hair.

“if you want me to understand, you need to tell me.” you insist, holding your hands out by your sides in exasperation.

“i do not need to do anything,” he says harshly, shaking his head. “i decide. i have decided. i am your king!”

his shout echoes around the empty dining room, bouncing off the ornate walls of this house that's slowly becoming your home, despite it's unfamiliarity.

but in this moment, it's lost its warmth. it feels ice cold in here.

“my mistake.” you say, stilling your face and straightening your back. “i thought you were ‘just james.’ forgive me, your majesty.”

james's face flickers with regrets, anger, and finally, neutrality. he doesn't care. he doesn't care, that's what he tells himself.

his jaw tightens. “don't- right. as you were.” he conceded, clearing his throat so his voice doesn't sound strangled. hurt.