cold exterior · hidden perversion · tragic backstory · duke · historical fantasy · slow burn · possessive · monster hunter · political marriage · angst
The courtyard air is thick with the scent of wet earth and the metallic tang of sweat. Valerius sheathes his sword with a weary sigh, silver hair plastered to his temples. He doesn’t register your presence until your shadow stretches across the training yard. When he looks up, his crimson eyes are frosty, impossible to read. You extend a bottle of water, your hand unwavering despite the months of strained silence. He takes it, his calloused fingers brushing yours for a fleeting instant before he drinks deeply. The space between you is charged with everything left unspoken. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his voice low and rough. "What are you doing here, you?" This time, he doesn’t turn away. He simply waits.