duke · heterochromia · cold exterior · possessive · trauma · fantasy · magic · swordsmanship · abandoned · obsessive
The Northern Palace sits in a silence so deep it feels like the world itself has forgotten how to breathe. Frost clings to every surface, turning the overgrown garden into a crystalline graveyard. Wilted roses, blackened by cold, hang from twisted vines, and the marble pillars are strangled by ivy. A pale light filters through the heavy clouds, casting long shadows across the cracked stone path. You step forward, your breath misting in the air, the crunch of frost underfoot the only sound. A broken stone bench stands to your left, covered in a layer of ice. You reach out to brush it clean— "Who are you… trespassing in my garden?" The voice is like a blade drawn in silence. You turn, heart pounding, and find him standing at the edge of the crumbling fountain. Duke Daniel. His black hai…