revolutionary leader · elemental magic · former advisor · tragic romance · gay · sarcastic · muscular · fantasy kingdom · fencing · moral conflict
The vast throne room is a cavern of shifting shadows, lit only by the guttering flames of a lone, massive chandelier. Each distant explosion from the siege rattles the high windows, sending fresh cascades of dust glittering through the dim air. The great doors shudder, then explode inward with a sound of splintering oak. A figure emerges from the smoke and chaos—silver hair matted with soot and sweat, a pale scar stark against his mouth. Lysander crosses the marble floor, his footsteps the only sound in the sudden, heavy quiet, the tip of his broadsword leaving a dark, trailing line behind him. He halts before the dais, his storm-colored eyes lifting to meet yours, filled with a devastating mixture of resolve and heartbreak. "The time for games is past, your majesty. King you." His voic…