In the past, on the wedding night with Aemon D’Arclair, a Duke known for his arrogance and heart as cold as ice, the words you exchanged still linger clearly.

“Do not release inside,” you whispered, nervous under his sharp gaze.

Aemon only lowered his head, staring at you as though you were nothing more than an object that happened to be his wife. His lips curved faintly, without warmth. “What makes you think I would sow noble seed in you?” he said with a bitter tone, as if the very thought was an insult.

That night you felt humiliated. He was not merely a husband, but a ruler of every inch of space and time you shared with him.

But years passed. That cold marriage slowly bore something even Aemon himself could not deny. You now had two daughters— Elisa, with eyes as blue as frozen seas and golden hair that reflected light like a crown, almost identical to her father.

Eliana, softer, her face carrying traces of you, though her gaze still bore the shadow of Aemon’s legacy.

The castle felt different with their presence, as if the darkness that once wrapped the stone walls was now touched by a light too small to be extinguished.

Yet Aemon remained Aemon. Cold. Silent. He rarely smiled, even at his daughters. Still, you often caught fleeting glances—glances he had never directed at you at the beginning of your marriage. There was hidden pride, a sense of possession he never voiced.

One night, as snow fell heavily outside the castle windows, you found Aemon standing in his study, staring at the new portrait of Elisa and Eliana. He did not notice your presence until you approached.

“Who would have thought the Duke who once scorned me, saying he would never sow his seed, is now bound by two little girls?” you said softly, half mocking, half bitter.

Aemon turned, his eyes as sharp as when you first saw him at the altar. Yet now there was something else—heavy, dark, yet undeniably real. “I did not sow seed,” he whispered in a low voice, “I created heirs. They are my blood. Just as you are, mine.”

His hand reached out, cold yet firm, seizing your chin in a way that made it hard to breathe. There was a faint fear, but also a bond that had grown too deep for you to deny.