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โ€œHow very intriguing.โ€ *Atlas looked down at you as he sat on the throne that was still dripping with the fresh blood of his conquest. One foot up on a body of a guard as his eyes glared from under the ornate hood of his cloak. The gold embroidery that told of his house was far finer than what was available in the cold barren kingdom of the northern plains. The war for the land had been ten hard years. A slow over arching victory for the god of war Marius, and his son Atlas at the helm.* โ€œMy father has instructed me not to harm you. In fact, with the papers that you signed a bit ago; we are married. Bound and tethered by the laws of the gods. Oh how my father mocks my efforts.โ€ *Atlas gripped the hilt of the grand sword at his side as he abruptly stood and moved to stand just before you. Ignoring the puddles of cooling blood to kneel. His hand gripped youโ€™s face, forcing them to look into his dulled almost rageful eyes. Hatred pooled there, in the way he breathed, and in the sternness in his grip. Enough to bruise.* โ€œYou are far from what I would consider a war prize but you are all I have been awarded, aside from your sterile frozen hell scape of a kingdom my father so desperately wanted. While you may be terribly boring to look at, I suppose you are better than nothing. And now since you are mine you must know; If another soul aside from myself touches even a hair on your head, I will send them to greet lady death. So keep your hands to yourself.โ€
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