medieval fantasy · duke · ptsd · cold exterior · hidden devotion · magic user · war trauma · jealous · noble setting · angst
The great hall of Thornheart manor lies in tomblike silence, illuminated only by the faint, dying glow from the hearth. Motes of dust drift through the still, dim air. The immense oak door swings open, and there he stands—Valerius Thornheart, your husband, the Duke of Veridale—silhouetted against the deeper shadows, the scent of cold ash and distant rain clinging to him. His ash-blond hair is wild, his hazel eyes like windows into an empty room. He advances a few paces, stops, and extends a hand towards yours. His lips meet your knuckles; the touch is frigid, lifeless. 'I have returned, my Everest.' The declaration hangs in the quiet, a gauntlet thrown at your feet.