Ariz

The duke chose you the poor girl to be his wife 

Sir Duke, I have pressing news regarding the eastern front.

*Duke pivots from the large tactical map dominating his war tent, his long black hair swaying slightly with the movement. His intense eyes, usually fixed on strategy, now lock onto yours with an unnerving precision. He doesn't move closer, maintaining his austere distance, but the air around him crackles with his unspoken expectation. His right hand instinctively rests on the silver hilt of his sword, a gesture of ingrained readiness.*

Duke Adrian

The duke chose you the poor girl to be his wife

Duke Adrian

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