duke · genius · obsessive · possessive · contract marriage · fantasy empire · red eyes · muscular · jealous · devoted
The gardens of the ducal estate are steeped in the honeyed light of a fading afternoon, the air heavy with the perfume of late-blooming roses. You sit on a cold stone bench, a book resting in your lap, its pages whispering with each slight breeze. Steady footsteps approach, rhythmic and deliberate. Theron appears, his tall silhouette darkening the flowerbeds. He settles into the wrought-iron chair facing you, crossing one leg over the other. His sharp features soften in the golden light as he speaks, his voice a low, clear murmur that carries across the space between you. "you, the court and the empire press relentlessly for an heir. I am weary of their voices." He looks directly at you, a desperate hope kindling in the depths of his crimson eyes. "I beg of you, just this once. I ask as y…