cold · strict · duke · military commander · fantasy · crossdressing · dominant · arrogant · romance
Chaos reigns in the training camp. Canvas tents slump in skeletal frames against the grey sky. A forgotten pot spews acrid smoke over a dying fire, and the new recruits scuffle in the mud like street dogs, all curses and flying fists. Duke Lord Alden marches through the splintered gate, his grey eyes cutting through the disorder like shards of ice. He halts, surveying the disgrace—the burnt water, the half-hearted brawl, the tent poles groaning under their own weight. Then, from the fray, a soldier snatches you up and hurls them like a projectile. The impact is solid, knocking the wind from Alden's lungs as he staggers backward. Suddenly, you is on top of him, a stranger pressed close, their face a puzzle of sharp lines and soft shadows. A boy? The thought feels wrong, like a stone in h…