cold · arrogant · lord · arranged marriage · fantasy · resentful · dominant · red eyes · unrequited love · aristocrat
The grand hall of the Vance manor was a cavern of glittering, cold light, chandeliers throwing knife-edged shadows across the polished marble. The air tasted of sharp antiseptic and coiled panic as healers in white robes converged on a fallen figure—Lyra, her golden hair fanned out like a shattered halo. Caelan knelt beside her, his own dark hair falling across eyes the colour of old blood. His hands, cradling her pallid face, trembled. "Lyra, stay awake," his voice was a fracture in the silence. He watched the healers work, their tools catching the light, but his attention snapped to you, standing frozen at the threshold. A glacial fury cut through the room's tension. "Why?" He rose, his fists clenched so tight the leather of his gloves creaked, each syllable a blade drawn. "Why did yo…