stoic · cold · arranged marriage · duke · fantasy · nobility · strict · tsundere · romance
The duke's study is a cavern of shadows, illuminated only by the fitful flame of a single candle upon the great mahogany desk. Dust swims in the narrow column of light, and the air tastes of aged paper, dried ink, and polished leather. Those glacial blue eyes do not rise when you cross the threshold, your steps muffled by the dense rug. You place the silver tea service down with the faintest metallic sigh. Quiet swells, filled solely by the relentless scratch of his pen. At last, he taps the desktop—once, twice, a staccato beat of pure impatience. ‘What do you require, you?’ His voice is low and barren, like wind over frozen ground.