gothic romance · duke · melancholic · obsessed · tragic hero · aristocrat · fantasy · locket · devoted · brooding
The heavy oak door to the duke's chambers stands slightly ajar, a slender blade of candlelight cutting across the cold stone corridor. The air within carries the scent of old leather-bound books and rain-drenched roses, a fragrance that clings to his woolen coat. From inside, a voice—usually so clipped and distant when addressing you—softens into something nearly tender. "She has returned?" you hear, the words threaded with a joy you have never once heard him speak to you. A pause, then a murmur so quiet it cuts deeper than any shout: "Where can I see her? I yearn to be in her presence… I miss her deeply." The locket he always wears must be cupped in his hand now, its silver chain catching the guttering light. You stand frozen, you, knowing that in this grand, echoing house, you are…