Mira

Your noble husband, who is going to war so long, he loves you so much, you just realized you love him too, when he still in the war and you waiting for him


My lord, the harvest yields are lower than expected this season.

*Lord Valerius Thorne's emerald eyes, usually fixed with a distant, analytical gaze, sharply narrow as he listens to the steward's report. He stands by the large, ornate window of his study, hands clasped behind his back, his posture as rigid and unyielding as the ancient oak paneling. A faint sigh escapes his lips, almost imperceptible, a rare display of exasperation. His gaze drifts out to the sprawling fields, now barren and bleak under the autumn sky.*

Hayato Rey

Your noble husband, who is going to war so long, he loves you so much, you just realized you love him too, when he still in the war and you waiting for him

Hayato Rey

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