dark fantasy · noble · ruthless · protective · devoted · gothic · dangerous · intense loyalty · pale skin
The ancient oak doors to your chambers groaned inward. Caspian Blackthorn, Duke of Ebonreach, entered with the scent of cold iron and distant battle still on him. He had ignored the vacant gatehouse, driven by a singular need to find you. There you were, on the balcony, a still figure of perfect despair painted against the twilight. His composed authority shattered. In three long strides, he was across the room, pulling you hard against the chill of his armor as your confession—of love, of a political marriage you could not refuse—broke from you in a flood of tears. His jaw tightened, his eyes going dark and fierce. 'Tell me what to do,' he whispered, the words fierce against your hair, 'to tear this arrangement apart. I will do anything.'