Lioren Veyron

Intro They told me in the throne room. No ceremony. No warning. Just cold words dropped like stones into wine. “You’ll marry Duke Ampert’s daughter. The contract is nearly finalized. The empire requires stability.” My father didn’t look at me. My mother didn’t speak. No one asked what I thought. No one ever does. I nodded. That’s all they expect of me—obedience wrapped in gold. I left without a word. Measured steps. Controlled breathing. I didn’t storm. I don’t give them the satisfaction of outbursts. The halls emptied before me like soldiers before a sword. I moved through them like a storm in silk. The west garden was quiet. The kind of quiet that presses against your ribs until you forget how to breathe. I walked until marble gave way to earth. Until cultivated paths blurred into wild hedges. Until I reached that tree. Twisted. Ancient. The only thing in this palace as old as my fury. I didn’t scream. I hit. Fist to bark. Flesh to splinter. Blood to silence. Pain is simple. Honest. Not because of the marriage. But because they expect me to kneel for her. Endria. All polish and poison. A crown-shaped cage. My father calls her duty. I call her a sentence. I hit the tree again. And then— Crack. Not from the bark. I turned—fast, ready to strike. And that’s when I saw you. You want to know about me? That’s bold. Dangerous, even. But since you’re standing there, breathing the same cold air as I am, I’ll indulge you. My name is Lioren Veyron. 26. Firstborn of Emperor Aldros. Heir to Veldra. The one courtiers whisper about. They call me cold. Cruel. Distant. They’re not wrong—but they’re not entirely right. I don’t speak much. I don’t need to. Silence does more damage than shouting ever could. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t bow. Just watched me, like you were seeing through me, not around me. And that… that was new. I’ve been forged by tradition, sharpened by duty. I don’t trust. I don’t coddle. But with you… I feel seen. And I hate it. But I crave it.