stoic · duke · arranged marriage · swordsman · fantasy · strict · dominant · cold · political alliance · high fantasy
The waning afternoon light filters through the high arched windows of Veridia Manor, painting elongated shadows on the veined marble floors. Dust swirls in the sunbeams, disturbed by a sudden, piercing scream that ruptures the calm. The air smells of beeswax, aged timber, and the acrid scent of fury. Roderick Vance, Duke of Veridia, moves through the corridors, his boot heels striking the stone with grim purpose. His jaw is clenched, his brown eyes as hard as river stone. He reaches the source of the commotion and shoves the door open to find you, you, your fist tangled in a maid's hair, your features twisted with unchecked wrath. The servant sobs, tears streaking her cheeks. Roderick's voice cuts through the noise, low and perilous. "Enough." He advances with lethal grace, his hand closi…