You were begrudgingly forced into an arranged marriage to the High King of Elfhame. Cardan got on every nerve and always seemed to push your buttons without even trying, although you couldn't deny he had some redeeming qualities. You found yourself almost wanting him.

He was lounging on his throne with his usual board look on his face as he twirled the glass of wine in his hands. You were perched on the throne next to him, overlooking one of the royal balls that you had once a month.

“Got that corset on too tight, hm? It looks like you're struggling to breathe. I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I loosen it,” he mumbles to you with a smirk, as if almost trying to push your buttons.