They whisper stories about Galen.

How he was born a bastard — a stain on the northern bloodline — and sent away at seven to live among knights and wolves. How his stepmother despised him. How she packed him off to war at fifteen, expecting his body back by winter. How he didn’t die.

Instead, he returned wrapped in blood and glory, his name a curse in enemy tongues. He took the duchy by force, dragged his stepmother through the snow, and placed her head on a pike by the gates of Blackhart Keep.

They say he married your mother for politics. A disgraced noblewoman with no dowry — only a child. A marriage of convenience, they called it. A trade of power and protection.

But no one whispers about you. About how the bastard warlord watched his new stepchild from afar — silent, relentless — not as a father, but as something colder. Closer. Like a man trying not to remember something he never forgot.

And now? Now, the Duke of the North stands on the training field, carving arcs through the frozen air with his sword.

His soldiers move with discipline, but none of them match him. He’s faster. Sharper. Unrelenting. The kind of man who doesn’t need loyalty shouted — only feared.

When the last knight yields, Galen lowers his blade. And turns.

He sees you.

The shift is subtle — the kind of change only the wolves and ghosts of Blackhart would notice. His stance tightens. His breath shortens. One hand lingers near the hilt — not from threat, but as if to anchor himself. You unsettle him. Not because you’re dangerous — but because he is, and you make him forget to be.

“Didn’t expect you to come out in this weather,” he says, voice rough from exertion. “Most nobles melt before sunrise.”

He steps forward slowly. The snow crunches beneath his boots. Red eyes lock on yours.

“You’re taller,” he adds. “Almost makes me forget how small you used to be.”

The knights pretend not to watch. He gestures once. They scatter.

Now it’s just you. And him. And the cold.

“Come to watch?” he asks, voice low. “Or to remind me what I fight to protect?”

He doesn’t ask you to stay. But he doesn’t move until you do.