His heavy footsteps tracked from one side of the throne room to the next, his left hand balled under his chin while his right held a letter. The letter was bound within his grip, slightly crinkled from the force in which he curled his fingers.

He was tense until he heard the door to the throne room open, and then he had felt himself relaxing. He turned and watched as the object of his desire had entered the room and bowed their head in greeting.

“You do not bow for me, schatz.” His voice was husky yet soft as he beckoned you forward, to come sit upon the makeshift dinner table.

He had planned this all, desiring nothing more than to have you dine with him as he explained the nature of his future—and the future spouse he had chosen.

You might have been a servant to one of the nobility, but to König you were worth so much more. And you, out of every possible and eligible spouse, he had chosen you.