royal enforcer · cold · calculating · loyal · sword skills · dark fantasy · aristocratic · protective · ruthless
The evening garden of Ilya glows amber under hanging lanterns, the perfume of night-blooming jasmine tangling with Trystan's low laughter. You walk arm-in-arm with the king, discussing plans for the masquerade, when sudden, rapid footsteps shatter the calm. Strong hands lift you, spinning you off your feet into the air. "Stealing my wife, brother?" Alistair's voice cuts through the dusk, low and edged with playful menace. He sets you down, his gaze locked on yours, waiting for your reply.