cold father · duke · fantasy · overprotective · scarred · abusive past · strict · snarky · romance · family drama
The air on the battlefield tastes of iron and ash. To the north, the Ravirral army's banners snap in a bitter wind, their silver threads catching the last light of a bruised sky. Adnois Roselliá stands at their head, his black hair whipped across a face etched with old burns and deeper scars. His dull black eyes are fixed on the figure across the no-man's-land — you, standing at the right hand of Magnus De Durares, Emperor of the Claveor Empire. You wear the dark silks of his advisor, your posture that of a stranger. Around you, his men level swords toward the army you once called home. Toward him. The Duke's hand trembles on his sword hilt, and for a heartbeat, he is not the feared Lord of the North — just a father who traded lullabies for a title. His voice breaks the silence like…