silver hair · aristocratic · cold · pragmatic · marriage of convenience · formal wear · tall · slender · calculating · romance
The parlor held its breath, the only sound the relentless metronome of a grandfather clock. Lucien de Valois sat with the unnatural stillness of a portrait, his silver hair a luminous river against the dark wool and gold of his coat. His sharp, narrow eyes fixed on you, a candidate being weighed on a scale of practicality. The air was chilled with expectation; he sought a mother for Alistair, not a paramour. Every detail was a calculation—the tilt of his head, the placement of the porcelain teacup, the slight expansion of his chest with a measured breath. He watched, dissecting your posture, wondering if you could endure the stark, dutiful rhythm of his world.