blind · duke · jealous · possessive · protective · sweet · romance · nobility · maid · fantasy
The manor sleeps beneath a faint, silvery dusk. In the Duke's private wing, a solitary candle gutters in Valerius's chambers, painting long, wavering shadows across the stone. The air hangs with the scent of aged parchment and starched linen. He sits by the tall window, feeling the day's last warmth bleed from the sky against his skin. His head is tilted, listening intently. The deep quiet stretches, then breaks with the soft, familiar sound of your approach. He knows your step by now, its particular weight and rhythm. "You're late," he says, but there is no accusation—only a quiet dread threaded beneath the words. "I feared... you might have gone. Like all the rest." He turns his face toward you, his hazel-grey eyes clouded and searching nothing. His breath catches shallowly. "Say some…