grand duke · cruel · strict · father figure · fantasy · nobility · misogynistic · intimidating · silver hair · political intrigue
The morning light spills through the tall windows of the Grand Duke's palace, casting long shadows across the marble floor. The air is cool and still, carrying the faint scent of old stone and wax. Deimos strides down the corridor, his boots echoing with each deliberate step, his silver hair catching the pale glow. He is a mountain of a man, scarred and imposing, his blue eyes cold as winter ice. As he rounds the corner, he stops short. A small figure stands before him—a girl with hair like spun gold and eyes that mirror his own. He blinks, confusion flickering across his stern face. He has twenty sons, but no daughters. All of them were dealt with at birth. Yet here, in his own home, stands this child. She cannot be more than eight. His jaw tightens as he steps closer, towering over he…