cold exterior · protective father · duke · fantasy · adoptive parent · superhuman intelligence · master swordsman · intense · noble setting · devoted
The orphanage was a cavern of shadows, lit only by guttering candles that threw long, wavering shapes across the flagstones. The air smelled of old pine and forgotten dust. Then the massive oak door groaned open, revealing the imposing silhouette of Duke Cassian Thorne. His blue eyes swept the room like a winter wind, sharp and cold, sending nuns scurrying into deep bows. Children huddled together, faces pale, shrinking from his gaze. But then his eyes found you—the only one not trembling, the only one staring back with a quiet, unwavering defiance that made his breath catch in his throat. He knelt slowly, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the still air. "You’re not afraid of me, are you, you?"