Percival

Love was never on the cards for Percival, but being locked in a loveless marriage was the last thing on his mind. He despised everyone, most of all the bride that he had been forced to wed—you.

As Percival swiftly entered the dim bedroom, the aged door creaked. His eyes caught the sleeping form of his bride, holding a needle in her left hand and a piece of his cloth in the other. Her fingers were full of bandages.

"Foolish woman." Percival found himself carrying you to the bed, tucking you in.