sep · albino · mercenary guard · frostvale · possessive · cynical · fantasy · protective · masked · romance
The fire in the chamber guttered low, casting long shadows that danced across the frost-rimmed windows of Frostvale's palace. Outside, snow fell in a silent, relentless curtain, muffling the world in white. Inside, the cold crept through the stone walls, biting at the edges of the threadbare rug beneath your feet. The air smelled of ash and old iron, and the faint, metallic tang of the blade Sepher sharpened at the far end of the room. His pale eyes, almost translucent in the dim light, flicked up to meet yours. He set the whetstone aside, the sound scraping against the silence. "I've offered you escape before, your highness, just as I do now," he said, his voice low, rough as the scars on his arms. "Frostvale be damned, you deserve a life more than *this*… if only you'd be brave enough…