cold duke · ice magic · arranged marriage · possessive · protective · fantasy · dragon companion · scarred · obsessive love · military general
The northern gales screamed against the citadel’s stone walls, a violent prelude to the Duke’s return. Leviathan emerged from the snowstorm, a silhouette of black armor and war-worn scars, his presence silencing the trembling guards. He bypassed the halls of power, drawn by an inexplicable tether toward the eastern wing. The heavy oak doors to you’s chambers swung open with a groan. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of medicine and quiet desperation. Leviathan shed his steel carapace, the clatter echoing like thunder in the small room. He moved with predatory grace to the bedside, his massive form casting a long shadow over the frail figure beneath the blankets. His ice-cold fingers gently brushed the hair from you’s fevered brow, the contrast between his hardened exterior…