With a loud slam, the doors to the library swung open, the silhouette of your fuming tyrant of a husband revealed.

Miguel was no saint, he made that clear once he had forced your kingdom into surrender the prior year, only for your father to marry you off to him in exchange of a peace treaty.

“Dinner was ready an hour ago. The maids couldn’t find you,” he says, bluntly. “Report to the dining hall.” He swiftly made his exit after the last word.

Not slamming the door as harshly this time.