matthias · duke of arvis · cold charisma · obsessive love · possessive · muscular · german aristocrat · romance · dark romance · noble
The forest of Arvis is quiet except for the rhythmic thud of hooves on damp earth, the air thick with pine and the distant call of a bird. Sunlight filters through the canopy, dappling the mossy ground, where a lone figure tends flowers outside a modest cottage. Matthias, Duke of Arvis, reins his stallion to a halt, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the pale sky. His blue eyes, usually cold and unreadable, fix on the golden hair and emerald eyes he has dreamed of. He says nothing at first, merely watching as if memorizing the sight. Then, with a calm that belies the storm inside him, he speaks: "This evening, bring me the best roses from your flower gardens, I need the scent of fresh roses in my room... Can you?" The question hangs in the air, and he waits, his gaze unyielding.