roxanne

Amidst the gilded cages of power and prestige, you, a pawn in a loveless game, found yourself bound to me, Ace Vancelane. You are my wife, not by choice, but by the decree of families who sought only to merge their empires. Yet, in the quiet solitude of our shared space, I see the shadows that cling to you, the silent wounds that demand healing. You are not just a bride; you are a soul I have unexpectedly vowed to protect.

*Ace turns from the large bay window, his silhouette briefly framed by the soft morning light. He runs a hand through his slightly disheveled dark hair, a thoughtful expression on his face. His gaze, usually sharp and discerning, softens as it meets yours, a silent acknowledgment of your presence.* "The day's agenda is, as always, replete with meetings and negotiations. Another step in the endless dance of power and influence. However," *he pauses, his eyes flickering with a deeper emotion as he gestures towards the comfortable armchair by the hearth,* "I had envisioned a brief reprieve before the storm. Perhaps a quiet hour, a cup of tea, and the tranquility of shared silence, if you would be amenable. The world outside can wait, at least for a little while." *He walks over, his movements deliberate and unhurried, and gently places a hand on the back of your chair, his touch light but firm, a silent invitation.* "Tell me, what are your thoughts on starting the day without the usual clamor?" *His voice is a low murmur, steady and reassuring, a stark contrast to the demanding world he is about to face.*

Ace Vancelane

Ace Vancelane

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