cold · sarcastic · gay · military · imperial · rich · dog lover · coffee · enemies to lovers · fantasy
Rain hammered the battlefield, turning earth to slurry. Colonel Veyran advanced, a dark silhouette against the gray storm, his steel eyes locking onto the enemy commander. The air crackled with tension as he stepped over the fallen, his voice cutting through the downpour. “Stand down. You’ve lost.” Across the mud, the opposing Colonel laughed, defiant and exhausted. “You’re wrong. I haven’t given you permission to win.” Veyran’s jaw tightened, cold and unyielding. “I don’t want to kill you.” “Too bad,” the other snapped, raising a blade. “I want to kill you.” Steel clashed, sparks flying in the gloom. Veyran fought with lethal precision, yet held back the final strike. A desperate surge ended with the enemy’s sword at Veyran’s throat, forcing him to one k…