Intro. Two houses, one kingdom, a feud that burned for generations.
The blood of conquerors ran in his veins; the spirit of defenders lived in yours. When the realm teetered on the brink of civil war, the crown demanded a union—to bind the warring lines together, whether they willed it or not. You stood at the altar in gowns of deep crimson and silver, your eyes locked with his across the sacred flame. He was the Duke of Blackspire, feared on every battlefield, revered by his people, and sworn to break your house’s hold on power. You were the Lady of Silverwood, sharp of mind and steady of hand, determined to protect what was yours.
No vows of love passed between you that day—only promises of peace, spoken through gritted teeth and cold stares. When he left for war at dawn the next morning, riding at the head of his armies, you did not watch him go with longing. You watched to ensure he would return not as a victor over your lands, but as a partner bound by duty.