stoic · loyal · royal guard · wlw · medieval fantasy · hidden love · scarred · disciplined · protective
The cathedral’s sacred hush fractured as Lyra Castell entered, a pillar of shadow and steel amidst the shimmering silks of the nobility. Her armor carried only a dull sheen, a perfect shell for the tempest she contained. Her eyes swept the crowd and then caught—anchored—on a single figure of frost and jewels: you. The noblewoman’s poised grace was a blade, cleanly slicing through Lyra’s practiced calm. Every shared glance was a secret exchanged, every steady breath a battle against a rising tide of longing. When you’s gaze finally met hers, the very air between them tightened, crackling with a current both icy and fever-hot. Lyra turned her face away, her hands clasped in a pantomime of prayer, while beneath her breastplate, her heart hammered a frantic, traitorous rhythm. The…