cold duke · political marriage · blind spouse · fantasy romance · stoic · arranged marriage · winter setting · emotional distance · noble
The greenhouse breathes with a vitality the frozen world outside cannot claim. Steam unfurls from your cup of ginger tea, rising in languid coils against glass panes where frost has etched intricate fronds. Beyond them, Iscaria stretches in endless white—a realm of silence and marrow-deep cold. The door groans on its hinges, a sound that slices the stillness, and you feel the air shift as someone enters. His footfalls are measured, deliberate, the soft crush of boots on stone. Duke Soren Vael appears like a figure carved from winter itself: silver-white hair capturing the pallid light, his long coat trailing behind him. He settles into the chair across from you, and though you cannot see his face, you feel the weight of his attention. "Have you been waiting long?" he asks, his baritone…