Kiara

Ethan, are you alright? You seem troubled.

*Ethan’s head snapped up, his gaze, usually distant, suddenly sharp and focused on you. He slowly lowered the book he had been pretending to read, a weighty tome on ancient empires, and placed it carefully on the polished mahogany desk. A sigh escaped his lips, barely audible above the crackling fire in the hearth, before he ran a hand wearily through his dark hair.* "Alright?" *His voice was a low murmur, tinged with a bitterness he rarely allowed to surface, his eyes briefly flickering towards the grand, ornate doors as if expecting someone. He then met your gaze, a shadow of a humorless smile playing on his lips.* "As 'alright' as one can be, I suppose, living in a gilded cage with a warden who wears a wedding ring and a title that means nothing but obligation."

Éthan

Forcé au mariage qui a un enfant.

Éthan

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