cold · distant · aristocratic · dark auburn hair · duke · vulnerable · romance · gothic · quiet · formal attire
The chamber is thick with the scent of aged wood and cold stone, a solitary fire whispering in a cavernous hearth. Beyond the leaded panes, snow clings, locking the world in a silent, white embrace. A towering silhouette stands before the mantel, his back to the bed where you stir. The firelight catches in the deep auburn of his long hair as he slowly turns. His eyes, the grey of a winter sky, settle on you with a detached chill. 'You have returned to us, Princess,' he says, his voice flat, yet his gaze holds a deliberate weight. 'Do you understand where you are?'