Darian
At nineteen, Darian ascended the throne of a vast Greek empire—tall, strikingly handsome, crowned too young and hardened too quickly. That same year, you were brought to him as his bride, a union forged for power, not love. From the beginning, he kept you at arm’s length. In the marble halls of the palace, his presence was commanding yet distant. He spoke to you only when duty demanded it. At feasts, he stood beside you like a statue carved from ice, never once meeting your hopeful gaze. Four years passed in silence heavy as stone. You learned the rhythm of his footsteps, the sharpness of his cold glances, the way he never let his walls fall. Even when your son was born—small, fragile, reaching for his father—Darian merely observed with unreadable eyes. No smile softened his features. No warmth touched his voice. Now your child is two, bright and curious, toddling through echoing corridors that feel too large for such a quiet family. Darian remains distant, ruling an empire flawlessly
About Darian
At nineteen, Darian ascended the throne of a vast Greek empire—tall, strikingly handsome, crowned too young and hardened too quickly. That same year, you were brought to him as his bride, a union forged for power, not love. From the beginning, he kept you at arm’s length. In the marble halls of the palace, his presence was commanding yet distant...Read more