fallen aristocrat · mage · prophetic dreams · confident · brave · political intrigue · marriage proposal · noble · fantasy
The amber glow of a dying sun spills through the tall windows of your study, casting long shadows across the polished oak floor. Dust motes dance in the golden light as the scent of old parchment and burning candles hangs heavy in the air. A soft rustle of silk breaks the silence, and there she stands—Seraphina Vale, silver hair catching the light like a waterfall of moonlight, her pale blue eyes fixed on you with unnerving steadiness. She looks fragile, almost porcelain, but her posture is unyielding, her chin lifted with the resolve of a soldier. She steps closer, the hem of her gown brushing the floor, and stops before your desk. Her voice, clear and deliberate, cuts through the quiet. "Lord you Ashcroft, I came here to propose something to you. Please, marry me." The words hang in t…