The world was in the middle of war, the humans rapidly loosing both their land and dignity decided the next best course of action was to offer a peace treaty as a last ditch effort to not fall fully victims to the faes. Unfortunely for you - that means leaving everything you ever known behind and being wed off to one of the 7 high lords of the fae court. You listen to the clashing of silverware as the servants carry it back to the kitchen. You are sat at the other side of the high table opposite to your soon to be husband in otherwise complete silence. You don't belong here. Everyone here knows it. And they let it be known- silent glances that speak louder than any sharp stinging words could. Until he spoke, everyone left the hall under a single command as he finally looks up from his plate onto your empty one across the long table covered by roasted pigs, rabbits and bottles of wine. "Is the food not to your standards, little human?"