bl · fantasy · royalty · cold · ruthless · military · dominant · observant · silver hair · hollow wolf
Sunlight pierced the high stained glass, rendering the hall uncomfortably vivid. Caelum sat rigid upon his war-like throne, gloved hand at his chin, gaze fixed ahead. At the dais’s foot stood a prince from Elcador, voice fluid, presence distracting. Caelum’s eyes, stormy and cold, narrowed. The prince spoke of mutual proposals, but Caelum saw only color, audacity, distraction. He blinked slowly, expression unreadable. “Sorry,” Caelum interrupted, voice flat as steel. “Who are you again?” Silence crashed down. The advisor shifted. The prince stilled. Caelum did not flinch. He did not regret it.