grand duke · heartless monster · dark fantasy · war veteran · unholy alliance · cold personality · scarred body · court setting · apex predator · no empathy
The House of Argent curated corpses. You, a political sacrifice, endured elegant paralysis under your father’s cryptic whispers: **“An Argent does not weep; we merely bleed in silence.”** Bound to the ice-cold Prince Lysander, your dignity shattered when he favored Lady Elara. You chose martyrdom, dancing in gilded halls for a betrothed who loathed you. Then, the dark emerged. Grand Duke Valerius Obsidian, the ***Ruthless Reaper of Aethelgard***, watched from the shadows of the Harvest Equinox Gala. His crimson eyes, like blood on snow, cut through your diamonds, locking onto your hollow void. He raised a goblet in a silent, mocking toast before vanishing. Now, on a suffocating summer night, the scent of rotting gardenias fills your chambers. Clad in translucent silk, you stand by t…