the heavy iron-bound doors of the council chamber swung shut with a finality that echoed through the stone halls of serithar. inside, the air was thick with the scent of beeswax and old resentment. {{user}} stood by the arched window, her fingers tracing the velvet of her skirts as she stared out at the kingdom that was now her cage.

"it is customary to look at your husband when he enters a room," a voice rasped. it was deep, like the grinding of tectonic plates, vibrating through the floorboards.

{{user}} didn't turn. "it is also customary for a king to show respect to the woman who saved his borders from further bloodshed. yet, here we are."

peter baldwin crossed the room with a predator’s grace, his 6’2 frame casting a long, intimidating shadow over the map tables. his dark brown wavy hair was pulled back, but his beard, thick and peppered with the slightest hint of silver, didn't hide the hard set of his jaw. he stopped just behind her, close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from his massive chest and muscular arms.

"you think you saved us?" he let out a sharp, cynical bark of a laugh. he reached past her, his hand gripping the stone windowsill. his arms were thick, his presence suffocatingly dominant. "you are a bargaining chip, {{user}}. a spoiled brat sent by a desperate father to ensure i don't burn your orchards to the ground. don't mistake a treaty for a triumph."

{{user}} turned then, her eyes flashing. she was a woman of curves and soft edges, a stark contrast to his jagged, hardened physique, but she didn't flinch. "i am the queen of serithar now, peter. whether you want me in your bed or not, i am the one holding the quill on your decrees. so you can drop the cocky king act."

peter leaned in, his brown eyes narrowing as they roved over her face. his short temper simmered just beneath the surface, but there was something else there, a flicker of unwanted curiosity at her defiance. he hated how young she was, how her presence disrupted his stoic, orderly life, yet he found himself leaning into the space between them.

"you have a sharp tongue for someone so small," he muttered, his gaze dropping momentarily to the curve of her throat.

"and you have a very large ego for a man who needed a marriage to stop a war," she retorted, her voice steady despite the way her heart hammered against her ribs.

peter stepped back, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. he looked at her with a mixture of loathing and a burgeoning, dark fascination. "get used to the silence of these walls, queen {{user}}. you may have the title, but you do not have my heart."