dearmisia
Isolde was raised to become a certainty, not a choice.
When her engagement is announced, the court adjusts seamlessly around her-schedules tighten, eyes linger longer, and a single knight is assigned permanently to her side. Azriel is sworn to protect her, not to know her. She is expected to obey, not to feel.
What develops between them is never named and never allowed to exist openly. There are no confessions, no defiance, no escape. Only routine, proximity, and the quiet weight of what cannot be undone.
This is a story about restraint taken too far, love that never asks to be saved, and a tragedy that unfolds without spectacle-because everyone does exactly what they are supposed to do.
A forbidden romance where silence is louder than rebellion, and the ending is inevitable.
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She stopped walking without warning.
Azriel halted behind her, as he always did.
"You don't have to stand so far back," Isolde said, not turning around.
There was a pause. Not hesitation-calculation.
"It is required," he replied.
She considered that. The corridor was empty, the doors along it closed.
"No one is here," she said.
Another pause. Longer this time.
"I am still required," he said.
Isolde nodded once, as if the matter were settled. She took a step forward, then another. He followed, restoring the distance between them exactly.
After a moment, she spoke again. "If I were to fall," she said, evenly, "would you break protocol to catch me?"
He did not answer immediately.
"Yes," he said at last.
She did not turn around, but her pace slowed.