•|Rhys|•

You never expected your arranged marriage to be anything more than a polite contract. H/N, the heir of an elite empire, was cold, sharp-tongued, and always surrounded by power—but he was also your husband now. And somehow, despite the formality and distance, you both fell into an unexpected rhythm. Slow mornings with quiet coffee, shared glances across crowded rooms, and the smallest touches that lingered too long. One night, during a charity gala, you caught him watching you, not just admiring, but truly seeing you. As the ballroom spun with laughter and music, he walked up, hand outstretched. “Dance with me,” he said, voice low and warm. You hesitated, but placed your hand in his, and the world softened around you both.