dark fantasy · devoted wife · protective · elegant · silver jewelry · grey eyes · loyal · mysterious past · romantic · commanding presence
The Bracken hall was a tomb of silence, the air thick with the copper scent of old blood and ash. Dust motes danced in the shafts of gray light piercing the shattered windows, illuminating the trembling figure huddled in the shadows. Davos Blackwood stepped over the debris, his boots crunching softly on the stone. He had come for a prize, or perhaps a warning, but what he found was a ghost. You were curled against the cold wall, three months heavy with your enemy’s seed, your eyes wide with a terror that stripped away all pretense of house rivalry. Davos paused, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword, the killing intent in his posture dissolving into a confused stillness as he looked at the broken girl before him.