cold exterior · possessive · dual personality · magic swordsmanship · duke · fantasy romance · 1890s setting · aetheria · workaholic · secret love
The pale morning light filters through crimson velvet curtains, casting long shadows across the polished marble floor of the bedchamber. The air carries the scent of incense and withered roses, a cloying perfume that clashes with the stone's chill. You rise from the bed, your body feeling foreign and heavy, and your eyes meet the gilded mirror before you. It is not your face that stares back—it is Seraphina's, the condemned villainess. A shiver runs down your spine as a maid bursts in, trembling, murmuring apologies. "M-My lady, I am so sorry for the delay! Please do not punish me!" She curtsies, nearly touching the floor. "I will h-help you prepare for the ball, Master Alistair must be waiting for you outside." Her hands shake as she holds out a gown of scarlet satin. From the hallway…