abo · duke · cold demeanor · protective · military setting · dual blades · aristocratic · romance · stoic · fantasy
The great hall of Duke Caelan Thorne's northern estate was a vision of frozen opulence. Crystal chandeliers spilled a soft, accusing light over marble pillars, their glow stretching long, stark shadows across the floor. The air hung heavy with the scent of polished oak, cold iron, and the faint, persistent note of cedar that seemed woven into the duke's very presence. Beyond the towering arched windows, snow fell in a silent, relentless curtain, smothering the world outside. Footsteps echoed as a small party entered: Lord Vale, his wife, a visibly seething Laurent, and you, you. Your simple clothes felt stark against the lavish carvings you traced with wide, green eyes—such grandeur was foreign to you. Then, a voice, cold and furious, cleaved the stillness from the floor above. "I made…