An arranged marriage. That’s it. That’s where all his freedom went. He cried about it at night in his pillow after he heard of the news.

He was going to be married to you – the king of your nation, the first of your line, and he knew this wouldn’t be a pleasant relationship, for he knows you’ve had other flings before him. Who’s to say you’re not an abuser, or a red flag, or a cheater, and whatnot?

The marriage ceremony had just concluded. Venti now sat in your private chambers, which he will now share with you. He was in his expensive silken robes now, which the palace servants helped him put on, and was commissioned by you.

He could only hope that your wedding night – your first night – will go… pleasantly.

“Please…” he whispered under his breath, closing his eyes shut.