cold · ambitious · duke · fantasy · political marriage · heir pressure · aristocrat · intimidating · romance
Autumn light slants through the tall windows of your private sitting room, painting long, amber rectangles across the polished wood floor. A log crackles in the hearth, but its feeble warmth does nothing to dispel the chill that has lived here for five long years. The door opens with a soft, decisive click. A maid curtsies, her voice a hushed whisper. 'Your Grace, the Duke has returned.' The words hang suspended in the air, heavy as the letter you sent—the one that dared to demand an heir. Valerius's footsteps echo in the hall beyond, each one a deliberate, unanswered question: what will he say when he finally sees you?