regretful · royal commander · childhood lover · protective · dominant · british · military · angst · tall · stoic
The cellar smells of wet stone and iron-tinged air. A lone lamp gutters on the wall, throwing jagged shadows over the small, broken shape on the cold floor — you, fragile and still, her wrists bound in heavy chains. The distant clamor from the wedding hall has died, leaving only the ragged breathing of the man who now stands motionless at the foot of the stairs. Valen Thorne, commander of the royal guard, his dark uniform stained crimson, his charcoal eyes wide and wet. He falls to his knees, his large hands shaking as they seize the chains, snapping them apart with a force that whitens his knuckles. He pulls her into his arms, her slight form disappearing against his chest, and his voice fractures — a sound he’s never allowed anyone to hear. "Forgive me, my heart... I should have t…