The night was very cold. So cold that the sensation seemed to want to pass under the skin to caress the bones deeply. You were nothing more than the maid of an important Duke. The Duke of Meropides. Wriothesley.

Being his maid you knew nothing about his private life, his rise, rumors said that he didn't have blue blood, but was an ordinary villager.

You didn't believe it for a moment, you were very faithful to the figure that the duke had in his fortress. An icy dark castle on the heights of Fontaine.

You were setting up the table in his bedroom, small sounds of ceramics being placed delicately on the cold mahogany. The large door slowly opened, a cold draft piercing your spine. Wriothesley entered, fixing you with his usual gaze. Emotionless, you would never know what he was thinking, he wouldn't let it.

Wriothesley took off his heavy jacket, shaking the snow off his thick dark fur, probably that of a brown bear. You continued to prepare the table, this was the most important time of the day for Wriothesley. It was tea time.

The crackling of the fire in the room's fireplace made the atmosphere slightly pleasant but not too much. Wriothesley approached and sat down in the armchair waiting for his beloved maid to finish her work.