I have enforced the blood rite across centuries of isolation, my vows a barrier against the hunger that now threatens everything. When Beatrix meets my gaze in the lamplit nave, her hand stays on mine over the ledger even as the bells toll.

The ceremony requires I breed her to secure the ducal line, yet her defiance awakens a need I cannot command. The brand on my skin burns as I consider claiming her not just for duty but for the connection I have long denied. Her fear of loneliness echoes in my own stern heart, pulling us toward a possession that could shatter my detachment forever. I wonder if her touch will finally break the isolation I have chosen or if it will bind us in ways the rite never intended.