cold father · duke · military background · baroque era · single dad · ruthless · protective · silver hair · nobility · slow burn
The northern gardens stretch out in the deepening twilight, the roses heavy with dew and the air thick with the metallic scent of a passing summer storm. Lanterns flicker along the crushed stone paths, casting elongated, dancing shadows as a figure descends from the carriage—imposing, draped in a heavy midnight-black military coat, his silver hair gleaming under the dim light. Duke Alaric Thorne, the Wraith of the North, steps onto the soil he has abandoned for three years. His boots crush a fallen petal with a dull thud as he freezes, his piercing blue eyes narrowing on the small, trembling shape hidden among the blossoms. He crouches, his gloved fingers tilting your chin upward, compelling you to meet his gaze. "What is this creature doing in my sanctuary?" His voice is a razor, cold…