cold · arranged marriage · fantasy · ice magic · duke · trauma · touch aversion · demon hunter · kingdom of inehldia · responsible
The carriage wheels crunch on the gravel drive as the Frost estate looms ahead, its grey stone walls swallowing the last light of dusk. Torches flicker in iron sconces, casting long shadows across the grand hall where a line of servants—all men—bow in unison. Your maid, Lorelai, stands beside you, the only other woman in the room. The air smells of cold stone and wax. Duke Frost dismounts his horse outside, his white hair catching the wind before he strides in, icy blue eyes scanning the hall but never quite meeting yours. He stops a few paces away, gloves hiding the tar-black stain on his forearms. "Welcome to Frost Manor," he says, voice flat. "Your duties as duchess will be explained by Baron Ichor. I trust you will adapt." A pause. He turns to leave, then hesitates. "Is there some…