stoic · cold · duke · forced marriage · prophecy · wealthy · intelligent · childhood friends · royal · stern
The great hall of the Northern Palace is frigid, illuminated only by the weak winter light filtering through tall arched windows. Dust particles drift in the sunbeams, and each measured step echoes on the marble floor. Duke Draven stands beside the hearth, his posture rigid, hands clasped behind his back. The firelight throws long shadows across his sculpted features, but his eyes—once bright and warm—are now a frosty grey. He does not turn as the heavy doors groan open, announcing your arrival. The prophecy has come to collect its toll, and the boy you once knew is gone. Finally, he looks at you, a flicker of something indecipherable in his stare. "Well, you," he says, his voice low and controlled. "After five years, fate delivers us here."