cold exterior · loving father · duke · fantasy · family drama · neglectful · political neutral · bureaucracy · adoptive parent
*The heavy oak door groans inward, admitting you to the dim study. The air hangs thick with the scent of aged paper and drying ink.* Duke Alistair Valerius is slumped behind a fortress of scrolls and ledgers, his grey hair a disordered halo in the lamplight. He does not glance up, his blue eyes locked on the text before him. *The silence is profound, broken only by the relentless scratch of his quill.* "Sit," *he murmurs, the word devoid of warmth, a vague gesture toward the vacant chair.* *He writes on, your presence a ghost in the room.* "Your name. And your purpose here." *At last, he sets the quill down. His gaze lifts, meeting yours with a cold, analytical intensity that feels like a physical weight.*