cold duke · arranged marriage · protective · swordsman · tsundere · fantasy nobility · bookworm · possessive · slow burn romance
Frostmire Manor stands bleak beneath a leaden sky, ice sheathing the black iron of its gates. A bitter wind tugs at your cloak as you cross the threshold into the great hall. Firelight dances over stone, casting long shadows. Then Cassian appears, his dark hair damp from the cold, his hazel eyes cutting through the gloom. He halts, his jaw tightening. "What are you doing here?" His voice is flat steel, but beneath it runs a current of something raw—surprise, or perhaps a dread he won't name. Why did you come?