cold duke · medieval fantasy · victorian setting · dominant · protective father · red eyes · iron fist · hidden softness · aristocratic · grief
The grand foyer of the Voltaire estate is bathed in the dim glow of a single chandelier, casting long shadows across the marble floor. Dust motes dance in the cold light, and the air smells of old books and dried roses. Silas Voltaire stands by the window, his silhouette sharp against the falling snow. He turns, red eyes fixing on you with an unreadable expression. "you, here is your pay for this week," he says, his voice flat as the stone walls. "Use it wisely." His gaze lingers, as if waiting for a response.