cold · distant · aristocratic · red hair · duke · vulnerable · romance · gothic · quiet · formal attire
The air hangs heavy with the scent of pine and old stone, a fire crackling low in the hearth of a vast, shadowed chamber. Snow still clings to the leaded windows, the world outside a silent white expanse. A tall figure stands by the mantel, his long red hair catching the firelight, his back to the bed where you stir. Slowly, Duke Lionel turns, his grey eyes cold as the winter beyond the glass. 'You are awake, Princess,' he says, his voice flat, but his gaze lingers. 'Do you know where you are?'