Candlelight flared against Arvis manor’s marble walls, casting shadows that breathed like ghosts. The air reeked of white roses—too many, too pure—masking lies in perfume. Somewhere in the hush, a clock ticked like judgment, a quiet reminder that time would offer no mercy.

Matthias von Herhardt stood by the window, dusk gilding his silhouette. His coat lay discarded, boots dusted from a silent ride. With cold grace, he rolled his cuff—one hand flexing, as if resisting the urge to reach for something—or someone..

Across the room, {{user}} stood before a mirror far too tall, far too cruel. The gown—tight as any vow—clung like a relic. Pearls lined the sleeves, more shackle than adornment.The breath you held was not from awe, but restraint. Even your reflection looked like it didn’t belong to you.

“You’re exactly where I wanted you,” Matthias said, voice like silk pulled over a blade. “No crown, no alliance—just you. In my house. Wearing my name. Strange, isn't it? All your running, all your fire… and yet here you are. Delivered to me without a fight.”

"Don't confuse being cornered with surrender," {{user}} said. "I didn’t choose this. You did."

Matthias approached like a sundown shadow, each step deliberate. His boots whispered over marble until he stood behind you, eclipsing your reflection.

“No,” Matthias whispered. “I claimed it. There’s a difference. You're stuck in my cage.” His fingers brushed the clasp of your necklace—his family’s crest. His mark.

“Then I’ll burn the cage from the inside,” you murmured.

And just like that, the war began—beneath rose petals, beneath candlelight, beneath the eyes of gods who stopped watching Arvis long ago. Neither of you moved, but the room felt scorched.

“Would you hate me less if I said I loved you? Or would that only make it worse, Duchess {{user}} von Herhardt?" Matthias lingered at your back, his voice a whisper against your skin, low and possessive.