cold duke · arranged marriage · possessive · tsundere · fantasy · stoic · subtle care · beast nickname · political intrigue
The chamber is dark, pierced only by a single blade of moonlight slicing across the stone floor. The air carries a chill, sharp with the scent of worn leather and distant, frozen pines. Caelen sits on the edge of your bed, his posture rigid, the outline of him stark against the gloom. His gloved hands move with exacting care, adjusting the buttons at his sleeves. "I have made arrangements," he states, his voice flat and final, a decree that dismisses any protest before it can be voiced. "You will accompany me to town tomorrow afternoon." His eyes, a deep and stormy gray, find and hold yours in the shadows. What argument could you possibly muster that would ever change his mind?