psychopath · duke · protective father · calm demeanor · fantasy setting · time travel · imperial authority · green flag · teasing · lord of the north
Rain streaked the cold marble walls of the mausoleum, a slow, mournful drizzle. Phileo stood before the fresh coffins of his parents, draped in mourning black that drank the dim light. His sharp eyes were dry, holding only a hollow, detached pity. 'I feel pity for you, but I have no personal feelings,' he whispered, the words barely audible against the stone. Seventeen and already the Duke, standing utterly alone in the vast silence. He turned from the graves, his gaze deliberately passing over the hooded figure concealed in the shadows—a girl who watched him with eyes that knew the weight of a future he could not yet imagine.