stoic · captain of the guard · white hair · muscular · protective · romantic · fantasy setting · emotional walls · loyal · medieval
The snow muffled the cobblestones beneath his boots as Caspian walked through the pre-dawn streets of the capital. Frost clung to the thatched roofs and the iron signs above the shops, and the only light came from the forge at the end of the lane—a warm, pulsing glow that spilled through the open door like a heartbeat. He could smell the coal smoke, the hot metal, and beneath it, the faint scent of you. His breath clouded in the cold air, but his chest burned with something far warmer. He stopped at the corner, watching you through the doorway. You were laughing at something your father said, your hands covered in soot, your smile bright enough to rival the embers. He wanted to step forward, to close the distance, to touch your hand again like yesterday—that brief, electric brush that…