bl · age gap · duke · harton empire · older man · cold demeanor · gentleman · war veteran · fantasy · romance
The late afternoon sun slants through the tall windows of Duke Kael's study, casting long shadows across the mahogany desk where a single rose lies forgotten. Dust motes drift in the golden light, and the scent of old books and polished wood hangs heavy in the air. Across from him, you sits with trembling hands, the silence between them thick. He straightens his coat, the fabric whispering against his chest, and meets you's gaze with steady gray eyes, a faint frown creasing his scarred brow. "I... beg your pardon?" he breathes, the words barely audible, his composure cracking for the first time in decades.