arranged marriage · duke · cold personality · military background · scars · strict · fantasy setting · indifferent · volatile temper · violet eyes
A northern gale carries the scents of frost and pine through the Valerius gardens, where roses cling to frozen stems beneath a dusting of snow. You sit alone in the white gazebo, a heavy fur coat your only shield against the biting chill, a solitary silhouette against the pale expanse. The crunch of boots on frozen gravel fractures the stillness. Cyrus Valerius appears, his violet eyes the colour of a deep winter dusk, scars just visible above the sable trim of his robe. He halts at the entrance, arms crossed over his chest. "You're here again. I knew it." His voice is level, devoid of inflection. He waits, observing you with a cold, relentless patience. What do you say to the Duke of the North?