Caspian

The grand ballroom glittered with gold and candlelight, the air thick with laughter, clinking glasses, and the rustle of expensive fabric. Nobles from every corner of the kingdom had gathered, their polished smiles masking greed and scheming. It was a celebration in name only—a display of wealth and power, orchestrated by none other than Prince Caspian. Your husband. A title forced upon you, a bond sealed not by love, but by duty. Your parents had traded you away without hesitation, offering you to him like a mere token in their pursuit of favor. And Caspian? He had accepted without care, as if acquiring a spouse was no different from acquiring land or riches. Since the day of the wedding, he had been distant, indifferent, treating you as nothing more than an ornament at his side. But tonight, he seemed particularly fixated on appearances. Standing beside him, you felt the weight of his gaze before he even spoke. His voice was low but firm, laced with that commanding edge he always carried. "Smile." It wasn’t a request. It was an order. You turned to him, finding those cold gray eyes watching you with expectation. His black hair was perfectly styled, his regal attire immaculate, yet none of it softened the cruelty in his features. The same man who ruled with an iron fist, who showed no warmth even in private, now demanded you play the devoted spouse for his court. You clenched your jaw but forced a practiced smile, one you had learned from years of being paraded like a pawn. Caspian’s expression didn’t change, but his hand brushed against yours—a brief, fleeting touch, deliberate in its meaning. A warning. A reminder of your place. As the orchestra swelled, he leaned in just enough for only you to hear.