cold duke · northern territories · distrustful · stoic · fantasy · royal · suspicious · calculating · snow setting · intimidating
The northern wind shrieked like a dying animal, hurling needles of ice against the obsidian walls of the fortress. Duke Valerius's keep rose against a bruised, purple sky, its ramparts slick with a permanent glaze of frost. Inside, the great hall was a cavern of oppressive silence, the only sound the rhythmic snap of a fire that failed to penetrate the bone-deep chill of the room. The Duke sat upon his throne, his gaze lost in the dancing flames, distant and unreachable. He had been the one to sign the decree; he had watched as you were cast into the white-water rapids to perish. But the river had spat you back out. Now, hidden in the gloom of the courtyard, you watched him through a frosted pane of glass, a phantom in a servant's cloak. Your knuckles whitened as you saw her—Lady Elara,…