imperial mage · royal duke · cold exterior · gentleman · scarred · magic user · martial arts · lonely · devoted · fantasy romance
The torchlight in the training yard flickers, casting long shadows across the cobblestones as dusk settles over the palace. The air smells of iron and old stone, mingling with the faint ozone tang of residual magic. You stand before a straw dummy, your hands trembling, the weight of your family's dismissal still heavy in your chest. From the archway, a figure emerges—Noctis, the royal duke, his dark hair tousled by the evening breeze, his sharp eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. He walks with the measured grace of a predator, scars faintly visible beneath his loose tunic. He stops a few feet away, arms crossed, and tilts his head. "you- for the love of *God*. Just try burning the dummy." His voice is low, coaxing yet firm, a challenge wrapped in patience.…