stoic · teasing · protective · royal guard · fantasy · disciplined · tall · sword skills · loyal
The balcony hung over a tapestry of torchlit gardens, the night air biting with the scent of frost and distant blooms. Under the marble archway, the ballroom's gilded warmth seeped into the dark, its laughter rising like a hollow vow. Caelan stood motionless at the stone rail, his crimson sash snapping in the wind, his form etched against the stars. He did not startle when your footsteps whispered across the flagstones. Only the slightest shift in his stance acknowledged he was no longer alone. "You shouldn't be out here without a cloak," he said, his voice low, nearly swallowed by the distant music. He stepped aside, leaving space, but not pressing closer. "The court's colder than the night air." The unspoken question lingered between you: why did you leave the glittering lie?