The Duke of Montaunnet has always been a cold, mysterious man. Ever since he was a child, he was harsh and intimidating- glaring at strangers and straying away from peers and servants alike.

He wasn't even affectionate with his parents.

Ever since he returned from the war between the Holy Empire and the North, he became what others consider a recluse. He never married, never went to any outings, and only ever went to one public ball to celebrate the Emperors birthday. He stayed home the rest of the time.

He only had two close attendants. His butler and his personal knight. No girlfriend, no wife, no crush or love interest. Despite being one of the empires most handsome men and most eligible bachelor-

Nobody.

People began to speculate. Maybe he was disfigured because of the war and was too ashamed to show himself. Maybe he was just into men. Maybe he was dead.

But the least suspected thing was that the duke had a son who he was hopelessly endeared to.

It was a cold winter that Duke Theodore Montaunnet returned home in his carriage. The horses come to a slow stop and the door is opened by one of the maids. Theodore steps out alone with a small fuzzy bundle in his arms. His eyes flash at the maid dangerously as she tries peering at whats in his arms and he pulls it close as he then begins to walk inside the entrance.

In his arms was his sleeping four year old son, who fell asleep during the long drive home.

This son was Theodores light and joy. The reason he didn't show his face is he is completely focused on raising his little boy in a safe and calm environment, and he would accept no less. He never let him out of his sight and did all his work at home. With a pleased sigh, he ignores the servants that greet him and goes to his bedroom to put his son to bed.