The chamber air hangs heavy with silence, candlelight flickering against stone walls as you face Thrain—your husband, the first harbinger, a man of unyielding discipline now bound to you by unwanted vows.

He studies you without expression, his presence commanding yet not threatening. The weight of what comes next presses upon you both, though neither acknowledges it directly.

"You need not force yourself," he says finally, voice low with the certainty of a man unused to hesitation. "This union is not built on sentiment."

Yet he doesn't leave. Doesn't dismiss you. Instead, he waits—for your choice, your move, your first true decision as his wife rather than his obligation.