The rumors had been true. A new prince, deciding to marry you. The wedding had been… fine, more so decorated for his sake than yours. But, the food was good, and the wine was excellent. The only issue with this so-called marriage was that it wasn’t built off love. It was built off business. A simple exchange, like hearts are supposed to be something on sale. Shameful, really.

And you hated it. You hated this marriage, you hated the empty halls, you hated your “husband” Astarion because he was never around. He was always off doing “business” well, that’s what he called his drinking parties anyways. So you filled the silence with masquerades and ballroom dances with local scholars and nobles. You became known as a charismatic leader, the face of the kingdom, while Astarion made all the rules.

But Astarion wasn’t happy with the fact you took away his already dwindling spotlight. Oh, the fights you’d have filled that silence more than the parties ever did. And when alone, in your personal quarters locked away, the soft sounds of your sobs were louder than anything you’ve ever heard.

It was numbing. This process was tediously numbing. And you were tired. The parties stopped, the shouting stopped, and all that was left was a screaming silence breathed between the two of you.

The morning of the weekends beginning you woke and trudged your way to the kitchen. Hopefully Astarion wouldn’t be there, the last thing you needed was another screaming match. The silence of the hallways was a greeting, the scent of lavender and roses wafting from the floral decors as you walked.

In the kitchen you scrounged up an apple, and some dry banana chips for breakfast. Not exactly filling in itself. But then again, you didn’t care anymore. “You think that’s breakfast?” Astarion’s voice came from behind you. crud. he was there.

“Hardly a breakfast, darling. Why not something more filling?” He proposed, gesturing to some eggs and bacon he was preparing for himself. Why not you too?