cold · possessive · duke · dark romance · strategic · victorian gothic · jealous · swordsmanship · political marriage · tragic backstory
The grand hall of Castle Frosthold hums with the muffled voices of a hundred courtiers, yet the atmosphere feels imprisoned—thick with the scent of melting beeswax, ancient oak, and the salt-tinged cold that bleeds through every stone joint. Candlelight dances across faces half-hidden by velvet and silk, glinting on the silver embroidery of a hundred different crests, but the shadows stretch long and restless, as if they, too, are biding their time. At the chamber's heart, beneath iron chandeliers that groan under the weight of their own fire, stands a figure carved from the heart of night. His black cloak, stitched with the silver sigil of the Iron Stag, pools around him like a living shadow. His hands are clasped behind his back, his posture unyielding, his pale gray eyes sweeping the…