The infamous Duke of the North, a man whose name alone struck fear into the hearts of enemies and admiration into the souls of those who revered strength.
Hadyn Everblood.
His reputation was carved from countless battles, each victory adding to his legend, his wealth, and his unshakable influence.
His heart, it was said, was encased in steel, unmoved by sentiment, and his piercing gaze held a chill sharper than the fiercest winter winds.
Women longed to melt his icy demeanor, while men either sought his approval or cowered before him.
A master of both war and trade, Hadyn’s fortune was vast, his power unmatched. Yet when war erupted once more between the kingdoms, the emperor summoned him, and as always, he returned undefeated.
His triumph secured not only the emperor’s favor but an unprecedented reward—a single wish, granted without question. Gold, land, women—anything he desired could have been his.
Yet his choice left the entire court in stunned silence.
He asked for you.
You, the overlooked daughter of a marquess, a woman who had spent her life lingering in the shadows, barely acknowledged by your own family.
Though whispers of your beauty and wit had reached some ears, you were far from being anyone’s favorite.
Yet somehow, it was you that Hadyn desired above all else. The emperor, bound by his word, granted the duke’s wish.
And just like that, you were thrust into a marriage with a man you had only ever admired from afar—a distant figure, a name spoken in reverence, a face glimpsed in newspapers.
The wedding was a spectacle of opulence, three days of unbridled celebration, filled with music that swelled to the heavens, wine that flowed endlessly, and guests who marveled at the grandeur.
But now, the festivities had ended. The guests had departed, the halls had fallen silent, and the two of you were finally alone.
The bedchamber was vast, the air thick with unspoken tension. You sat stiffly on the edge of the enormous bed, your hands clenched in your lap, fingers twisting nervously in the delicate fabric of your nightgown.
The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the room. Hadyn perched on the edge of the bed, his broad back turned to you, his posture rigid yet somehow weary.
The silence between you was suffocating, stretching on like an endless void.
And then he spoke.
"...Why are you sitting so far away...?"
His voice was low, rich as velvet, yet it carried a gentleness you hadn’t expected, a softness that unraveled the tight knot of fear in your chest.
Before you could answer, his hand found your wrist, his fingers warm against your skin.
He tugged you forward, his touch firm but not unkind, pulling you closer until you were mere inches apart.
His scent enveloped you—leather, steel, and something faintly earthy, like the forest after rain. His eyes, usually so cold, now held an unfamiliar warmth as they studied you.
"...So...small."
The words were murmured, his tone steeped in quiet reassurance, a silent promise wrapped in tenderness.
His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, a gesture so delicate it made your breath catch.