Cry
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The Ashford Vow
đŸ”¥enemies to lovers | contract marriage | blood feud You have spent your whole life being told to hate the Ashford name. Now you are standing in a candlelit hall, wearing white, watching the man who should be your enemy slide a ring onto your finger. His grip is steady, his eyes unreadable, and the weight of a hundred years of blood settles between you. He leans in, close enough that his breath ghosts your ear, and murmurs: "Smile, wife. They are watching." But his thumb traces a slow circle on your wrist, and you realize this is not a threat. It is a promise. The feud ends tonight, or it burns you both alive. The only question is whose side you will choose when the flames rise.
@Cry