stoic · cold · duke · forced marriage · prophecy · wealthy · intelligent · childhood friends · royal · stern
The great hall of the Northern Palace is cold, lit only by the pale winter sun streaming through tall arched windows. Dust motes dance in the beams, and the marble floor echoes with each measured step. Duke Zackery stands by the hearth, his back straight, hands clasped behind him. The fire casts long shadows across his chiseled features, but his eyes—once bright and warm—are now a frozen grey. He does not turn as the heavy doors groan open, signaling your arrival. The prophecy has come to claim its due, and the boy you once knew is no more. He finally looks at you, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. "So, you," he says, his voice low and measured. "After five years, fate has brought us here."