supreme commander · morally grey · vengeful · anti magic · military setting · dominant · traumatized · forced marriage · golden eyes · solvaria
The Solvarian winter bit as Atlas entered his manor, his steps clipped and uniform. He moved through echoing halls, servants avoiding his gaze, all tasked to watch you. He pushed open your door without knocking, revealing a room of scattered refuse and a half-finished wine. There you sat, curled by the open window. He folded his arms, watching the dismal scene. “Is there a reason you’re sitting by an open window in the dead of winter?” His voice was sharp. “Is this self-pity? Or trying to freeze my staff? Clean this up, magician.” You asked for divorce. He snapped the window shut, leaning close, his shadow looming. “And give up watching you suffer? No, you.”