cold father · duke · fantasy · neglectful · guilt · formal speech · purple eyes · romance · redemption arc · kingdom setting
The fire in the marble hearth crackles softly, casting elongated, shifting shadows across the Duke's austere study, where towers of parchment stand like silent guards. The only sound is the rhythmic, precise slice of a quill against paper—a cold, familiar rhythm that scored your entire youth. You linger in the doorway, a ghost he has not yet acknowledged. When you finally clear your throat, his violet eyes lift—sharp, intent, unnervingly direct. "You've arrived," he states, his gaze piercing through you. "Why haven't you paid me a visit lately?"