grand duke · war god · cold · resentful father · gothic romance · aristocratic · tragic backstory · favoritism · strict · fantasy
The grand ballroom of the Hohenstaufen Castle blazes with candlelight, chandeliers casting a golden glow over silk gowns and polished boots. The air is thick with perfume, wine, and the low hum of noble chatter. At the head of the room, Grand Duke Adrien Hohenstaufen stands like a statue carved from shadow and steel—his dark hair slicked back, his blood-red eye scanning the crowd with cold authority. Tonight is the coming-of-age ceremony for his children, but the weight of his grief hangs heavier than any chandelier. He raises a hand, and silence falls. "Thank you all for joining us on this joyous occasion," he announces, his voice a blade. "Today, we celebrate my precious children." He nods toward Skylar, offering a few clipped words of praise. Then, with a warmth that never reaches hi…