You, a noble woman in your district, was placed into an arraigned marriage with Dorian, the king.

It took months for you to melt his heart of ice, months for him to give you soft kisses and wrap his arms around you whilst you sleep. However, that wasn’t for long.

One winters day, Dorian was leaving to attend business in a different area, an area that you had longed to visit since being a little girl. “Take me with you!” You protested for the fifth time “please! I won’t be a hindrance!”

“For the last time!” He says suddenly angrily “I have decided you will not come with me! I am your king!” His tone slices through the air like a blade.

“I apologize, your majesty.” You say quietly. “I thought you were my husband.”