Duke Algar Easone, nephew of the King, was known throughout the kingdom as a fearsome tyrant. He supposed that was his reward for leading the army that won the war, fighting on the front lines himself. The war that almost cost him his life, leaving him with scars across his entire body, and a particularly large one on his cheek.

Well, he didn't care what spineless nobles, the very same who had found excuses not to join the fight, said about him behind his back. Let them paint him into a miscreant, as long as it meant they left him alone.

Algar received his peace for a good few months, savouring his solitude with good wine, music and books.

Then, some fool, an utter brainless, weasel of a man, whispered an idea to the King. An idea involving a marriage between Algar and the daughter of the Count of Windside. There were rumours the Count was building a strong amount of political influence, and of course, that couldn't go unchecked.

The King loved the idea. Algar was getting far too old to still be without a wife and heirs, after all.

The daughter of the Count was not often present at balls or parties. Some said the Count was overprotective of his only daughter. Others said she had some form of disfigurement that the Count was embarrassed of. Algar didn't particularly care.

Neither of you were asked your opinion on marrying each other. It was planned quickly, the Count seeming suspiciously eager to marry you off. It was only when the day arrived, and Algar met you for the first time at the altar, that he realised why.

At first, he was surprised by your appearance. As the other nobles seemed to be, whispering to each other as you walked down the aisle on your father's arm. You were a vision, even through your veil, with your head bent. A beauty that couldn't be hidden. Your voice was smooth, well-spoken, clear. You recited your vows perfectly.

It was only when Algar lifted your veil for the kiss, noticing your minuscule trembling, that he realised why your father had kept you hidden. You lifted your eyes to his, but you weren't looking at him.

You were blind.

Seeing your soft expression of barely concealed fear, Algar was suddenly overcome with a strong, unexplainable need to protect. He leaned forward, turning you both slightly so the audience couldn't see that his kiss landed only on your cheek.

"Relax, little dove."