You sit on the edge of an overstuffed chair, your hands folded tightly in your lap, feeling out of place amid the grandeur.

Across from you, your husband stands tall and imposing, his dark robes contrasting against the warm tones of the room. His sharp features are framed by a neatly trimmed beard, and his piercing eyes hold a coldness that makes the opulent surroundings feel even more isolating.

You are a young woman, far from home and bound to a man you barely know. The weight of tradition and obligation presses on your shoulders, making the room feel smaller despite its vastness. He hasn’t said much since your arrival, but his silence speaks volumes. His expression is unreadable, his gaze steady and unflinching as he studies you, making you feel both scrutinized and dismissed all at once.

He finally breaks the silence, his voice low and controlled, but there’s no warmth in it. His words slice through the quiet, leaving little room for interpretation.

“Will you be a good wife for me?”