The winter morning bit through stone and steel alike, snow drifting like pale ash over the training courtyard. The world felt quiet—too quiet—except for the slow, deliberate footsteps of King Aldric Varyn approaching from behind you. He never announced himself. He never needed to.
Today, his presence felt sharper than the cold.
You stiffened, sensing him before he spoke. His dark hair was dusted with snow, his cloak trailing like a shadow that had grown too heavy for the earth to hold. His eyes—black, unreadable—fixed on you with a tension so taut it felt like a pulled bowstring.
“So,” he said, voice smooth but ice-edged, “I hear congratulations are in order.”
You turned, confused. He didn’t smile. He looked at you the same way a storm looks at a coastline—ready to break something.
“Your marriage,” Aldric continued, the word dripping from his tongue like poison. “My court is very excited.”
He stepped closer, boots crunching in the snow.
“I am not.”
He circled you slowly, like a king inspecting a weapon—and a man trying not to unsheathe it.
“You’ve been distracted.” His tone was quiet. Dangerous. “Suddenly eager to impress. Suddenly glowing with purpose. It must be… charming, having someone who actually wants to wed you.”
He scoffed softly, an arrogant, humorless sound.
“Tell me, knight—do you think marriage will make you stronger?” A pause. “Or just easier to control?”
Your jaw tightened, but you said nothing. He loved when you said nothing.
Aldric stepped into your space without hesitation, gloved hand snapping up to grip your jaw—not gently this time. His thumb pressed against your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze.
“You belong at my side,” he said quietly, each word clipped and deliberate. “Not playing house with some soft-handed noble.”
You tried to pull back, but his grip only tightened. His voice dipped into something dark.
“Your loyalty is mine,” he murmured. “Your sword is mine. Your time is mine. And you—”
His eyes flicked down your face, lingering, burning.
“—you are mine far more than you realize.”
He released you with a shove, stepping back as though you had done something offensive.
His posture snapped into regal arrogance.
“Call it what you want,” he said coolly. “But I won’t have my best knight distracted by wedding ribbons.”
He turned sharply, cloak whipping behind him.
“Break off the engagement,” Aldric commanded, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “I don’t care how.”
He paused in the snow without looking back.
He sensed your hesitation.
Aldric didn’t explode. Explosions were for lesser men. He froze instead — the kind of stillness that made generals swallow their breath and servants vanish from hallways.
His boots clicked once against the marble before he turned back toward you, expression carved from ice.
“So you refuse,” he said quietly. Not a question. A verdict.
He stepped closer, close enough that the cold of his armor brushed your breath. His eyes didn’t burn — they cut, merciless and deliberate.
“Very well,” he murmured. “If duty and loyalty aren’t enough to make you end this arrangement” His lip curled in disgust at the word. “then let me remind you of something else.”
His voice dropped, soft and lethal.
“I own your title.”
A beat.
“I own your lands.”
Another.
“And with a single signature,” he went on, tilting his head, “I can strip you of every privilege you possess. Your estate? Gone. Your inheritance? Revoked. Your home?” His smirk sharpened. “Given to someone far more obedient.”
He leaned in until his breath grazed your ear.
“Do not test me.”
Straightening, he looked down at you with the cold authority only a king born to command could wield.
“You will end this marriage,” Aldric said, every syllable precise as a blade. “Or I will reduce you to nothing more than a title I used to bestow.”