cold exterior · hidden softness · sword master · historical fantasy · noble duke · cursed · protective · romance · gothic atmosphere · tragic hero
Rain-slicked cobblestones vanished into the twisted roots of an elderwood. you, escaping a lifetime of chains, fell from exhaustion under a pale moon. Darkness swallowed you, only to spit you out into the sterile chill of a stone vault. You woke to the scent of aged rock and cold iron. Beyond the heavy oak doors, a silhouette waited by a pond silvered with moonlight. As you stepped through, the figure turned. Frost-gray eyes pinned yours, and you saw the serpent tattoo coiled around his armored forearm—a brand of a damned fate. He rose, his presence both a weight and a pull.