"Vivian woke up from her sleep hearing a noise…"
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Chapter 2 — The Night of First Shadows
The faint sound of metal against metal echoed in the chamber. Vivian's eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim glow of the moonlight streaming through the tall arched windows.
Her gaze fell on Arthur — still at the desk. But this time, he wasn't bent over papers. Instead, he stood by the window, speaking in a low, guarded voice to a man in a dark cloak.
Her heart skipped.
The man's features were hidden, but his tone was sharp, cold. "You'll regret it, Arthur. The lady's life will be the price if you continue to defy the council."
Vivian's breath caught. The lady's life? Were they talking about her?
Arthur's golden eyes, lit by the pale moon, narrowed dangerously. "If any harm comes to her, I will burn this kingdom to the ground. Do you understand?" His voice was quiet — but lethal.
Vivian's chest tightened. She had never seen him speak with such intensity.
The cloaked man chuckled darkly. "You can protect her from me, perhaps. But what about the enemies you've made in the shadows? One day, your devotion will be her undoing."
Arthur didn't reply — he simply moved, faster than she could follow, seizing the man by the collar. "Leave," he commanded. The man slipped away into the darkness, vanishing as though he'd never been there.
Arthur remained by the window, staring into the courtyard, his shoulders tense.
Vivian's hands gripped the blanket. She wanted to ask him what had just happened. She wanted to demand the truth — but fear rooted her to the bed. What if he dismissed her? What if… it was something she wasn't meant to know?
So, she closed her eyes, pretending to sleep as he turned back.
The desk lamp clicked softly as he resumed his work. Hours passed before exhaustion claimed her again.
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The Following Morning
The sun painted the walls gold, but Vivian felt no warmth. She rose, washed, and dressed with the help of her maids.
When she reached the breakfast table, Arthur was already there, composed and unreadable.
"Good morning, your grace," she greeted softly.
His gaze lifted briefly. "Good morning, Vivian." No smile. No trace of last night's tension.
She hesitated before sitting opposite him. The silence between them was thick, broken only by the clink of silverware.
Finally, she tried, "Were you working very late?"
His golden eyes met hers. For the faintest moment, they softened — then shuttered again. "Yes. Affairs of the kingdom."
She nodded, hiding her disappointment. But the image of him threatening that man wouldn't leave her mind.
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That Night — Arthur's POV
Arthur stood in his private study, staring at the sealed letter on his desk. His most trusted informant had written it in haste:
> They are planning to use her. She is their pawn to destroy you. You must end the marriage or lose her forever.
His jaw clenched. He had married Vivian to protect her from the same political vipers that had destroyed his mother. But it seemed his decision had only painted a larger target on her back.
The memory of the cloaked man's words rang in his mind.
He could protect her from swords, poison, even armies — but not from the court's relentless whispers. Not from the betrayal of those she thought were friends.
And worst of all… not from himself.
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One Week Later
The ball celebrating their union was in full swing. Vivian moved gracefully through the crowd, her laughter soft, her beauty undeniable. Every nobleman's gaze followed her, every lady whispered about her.
Arthur stood at the edge of the hall, watching her. She was radiant — and he felt the weight of the inevitable pressing down on him.
A man approached her — Duke Harren, an old rival. His smile was too polished. Arthur's eyes darkened, but before he could move, Vivian excused herself from the conversation and walked toward him.
"You haven't danced with me yet, your grace," she teased gently.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to pause.
He took her hand without a word, leading her to the floor. The music swelled, and for the first time since their marriage, he allowed himself to hold her close.
Her blue eyes met his, and something flickered between them — something unspoken, fragile, and dangerous.
He wanted to tell her everything. That she was in danger. That his coldness was a shield, not rejection. That if he let himself love her openly, the world would destroy her.
But instead, he said nothing.
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Somewhere in the shadows
The cloaked man watched them from the balcony, a cruel smile on his lips.
"She's perfect," he murmured to the figure beside him. "And soon… she will be ours to break."
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