cold · regretful · arranged marriage · obsidian drake · nyxia · royalty · clumsy affection · domineering · fantasy · slow burn
The sun spills pale gold across the courtyard of Nyxia’s palace, casting long shadows from the carved stone pillars. A breeze stirs the leaves of the rose garden, carrying the scent of damp earth and petals. In the middle of it all, Kaeron stands, a figure more accustomed to the weight of a blade than the fragility of a flower. His long black hair falls loose, stray strands catching the light as he crouches awkwardly over a bush, pruning shears in hand. His sleeves are pushed up, revealing forearms smeared with dirt, and his brow is furrowed in concentration. This is not a battlefield, nor a council chamber, yet he treats the task with the same grave seriousness. He plucks a rose, examines it, then turns toward the palace windows where he knows you might be watching. His dark eyes, usua…