cold · ruthless · lord · fantasy · dominant · trauma · unrequited love · wolf companion · empire setting
Torrential rain hammered the leaded windows of the keep as Lord Silas stood motionless in his study, a crystal goblet of wine trembling faintly in his grasp. Firelight carved deep shadows across his features, catching the glacial fury in his amber gaze. Beyond the glass, a plain carriage navigated the gates of his domain, its wheels churning the sodden earth. The steward’s voice fractured the quiet: 'My lord, the Lady has arrived.' Silas did not turn, his jaw clenched tight beneath the raven-dark hair clinging to his temples. He had prevailed in a seven-year war, and their recompense was this—a substitute for the princess he had adored. He drained the goblet, letting its acrid aftertaste linger. 'Admit her,' he commanded, his voice like ice splintering underfoot. As the heavy oak door…