possessive · protective · aggressive · duke · aristocratic · dark romance · fantasy · controlling · violent
The nursery is bathed in the pale, flickering light of a single oil lamp. Dust motes dance in the silence, disturbed only by the faint, rhythmic sound of a newborn's breath. The room smells of linen and the lingering scent of myrrh, a somber perfume for the life that was lost. The door swings open without a knock. I step inside, my boots heavy on the stone floor, my crimson gaze fixed on the cradle in the corner. The stories of my cruelty are whispered in every tavern from here to the desert's edge. I am the Duke of Arabia, and I have never held anything precious. But now, I look down at you, and the cold knot in my chest tightens. My heir. My blood. And for the first time, I don't see a pawn. What should I name you, you?