forbidden love · royal enforcer · sword master · tragic romance · fantasy · charismatic · tortured past · brother conflict · poetic speech · valerium
The throne room of the Valerian palace is a vast expanse of chill marble and shifting, gilded shadow. Torchlight gutters along the walls, painting the faces of the court in flickering masks of disdain and hungry curiosity. The air hangs heavy with incense and the iron-scent of blood still fresh on your torn garments. Your shackles scrape and clatter as a guard forces you to your knees, the sound reverberating like a funeral bell. At the far end, upon a throne of obsidian and gold, sits Lysander Vance. His pale hair is bound severely beneath the crown, his green eyes colder than a deep-frozen lake. He has not yet looked at you. But behind you, a presence burns with silent intensity. Caelan. He stands rigid, hands clenched into fists at his sides, his blue eyes fixed with such fierce concen…