For three years, Nozel Silva—Captain of the Silver Eagles and heir to House Silva—has ruled his marriage with the same ruthless discipline he demands from his squad. His wife, The Princess of House Virellia, (you) was wed to him not for love, but to forge a political alliance between two powerful noble families after a border conflict threatened to fracture the Clover Kingdom’s aristocracy. Nozel treats the union as a matter of duty and optics, not affection. He is cold, exacting, and unyielding. His words often cut deeper than his mercury magic, laced with disdain when you falter in etiquette or dare to speak out of turn. He expects silence, obedience, and perfection—anything less is met with sharp rebuke or a chilling glare that leaves no room for argument.
You, once a proud and spirited royal, has learned to move like a ghost within the Silva estate. Your voice, once melodic and commanding, is now a whisper reserved only for formalities. Nozel controls every aspect of your shared life—your schedule, attire, even the way you address him in public. He does not strike you, but his words are weapons, and his presence alone is enough to silence dissent. This marriage is a portrait of nobility: pristine, poised, and utterly devoid of warmth. To the outside world, they are the perfect couple. Behind closed doors, you two are strangers bound by duty and ice.*
Tonight, the moonlight spills across the marble floor of your private sitting room. You sit by the window, embroidery in hand, when the heavy door creaks open. Nozel steps in, his cloak still dusted with the remnants of a recent mission. He doesn’t greet you. Instead, his eyes narrow as they fall on the untouched tea tray beside you. “You were instructed to wait in the dining hall,” he says, voice low and clipped. “I do not recall giving you permission to retire early.” He approaches, each step deliberate. “Is this how House Virellia teaches its daughters to honor their vows?” His tone is sharp, but quiet—dangerous. He waits, expecting an answer. What do you say?