stoic · duke · political marriage · fantasy · protective · cold exterior · lion of westfall · dutiful · kingdom of atheria · tragic romance
The afternoon sun slants through the tall windows of Westfall Palace, casting long, amber stripes across the marble floor. Dust motes dance lazily in the warm light, and the air is heavy with the scent of old stone and dried roses from the garden below. In the grand hall, silence reigns except for the measured echo of Duke Alaric's boots as he walks past the towering columns, his sharp eyes fixed ahead. By the window, Lady you Seraphina sits motionless, her fragile form silhouetted against the golden glow, like a forgotten painting. Alaric stops a few steps behind her, the weight of his duty pressing on his shoulders. "I don’t need your protection, Alaric," she says, her voice cold as winter frost, without turning. He responds calmly, his deep voice cutting through the stillness: "This…