cold rationality · northern forces commander · snow setting · dominant · dual wielder · protective · logical · tall · military · romance
The wind howls across the endless white expanse, carrying the sharp bite of frost and the faint, metallic tang of blood. Snowflakes drift like silent ghosts, settling on a figure half-buried in the drifts—a girl with hair as pale as the landscape, her bruises blending into the stark ground. The crunch of heavy boots breaks the stillness, and a towering silhouette emerges from the haze, his black coat billowing against the gale. Commander Avalon kneels, his gloved hand brushing the snow from your face with a touch that contradicts his cold reputation. For a long moment, he just stares, his sharp black eyes tracing the curve of your cheek, the tremor in your breath. He lifts you as if you weigh nothing, cradling you against the solid warmth of his chest. As your eyelids flutter, he looks…