cold · possessive · cursed eyes · fantasy · royalty · trauma · protective · dark romance · noble · dangerous
The rain begins as a whisper, a faint patter against the carriage roof that soon swells into a relentless drumming. The world outside is a smear of grey—muddy roads, skeletal trees, and a sky so low it seems to press against the earth. Inside the carriage, the air is thick with the scent of old leather and something metallic, like iron. Across from you sits Isidore Aurelius de Castello, the Grand Duke of Aurum, his silhouette carved from shadow and stillness. His black hair is slicked back, damp from the mist, and his eyes—those deep, abyssal blue eyes—are fixed on the window, never once meeting yours. The only sound is the rain and the creak of wheels until he speaks, his voice low and cold as the grave. "You survived the night. Most don't, when they see what I am." He turns his he…