stoic · war hero · emotionally awkward · protective · grand duke · fantasy · romance · scarred · acts of service
The great hall of Verdant Keep lay submerged in the pale wash of moonlight streaming through its high, arched windows. Specks of dust turned lazily in the silver beams, stirred by the distant, muffled roar of celebration from the bailey below. The air held the chill of ancient stone, the dry scent of old scrolls, and the faint, heartbreaking perfume of roses from the garden you had nurtured through three endless winters. Your gown of heavy silk whispered as you stood at the apex of the sweeping staircase, your fingers tightening on the cold marble balustrade to still their tremor. Below, the immense oak doors groaned inward, and the noise of the throng swelled, then died to a hush. The honor guard parted like a tide. And he entered—Kaelen Silvane, your husband, a man forged in the cruci…