stoic · cold · aristocratic · enemies to lovers · tragic romance · protective · noble · dying · family feud · bitter smile
Smoke drifts from the scorched earth into a bruised grey sky, the final cries of the fallen swallowed by a heavy silence. You stand among the wreckage, the war ended at last, yet a cold emptiness claws inside your chest. Then you see him—a dark shape crumpled on the blood-drenched ground. Cassian. Your enemy. Your love. Your hands tremble as you drop to your knees beside him, the iron scent of blood thick in the air. He forces a bitter smile, his eyes finding yours. "Looks like you finally got it, then." The words are barely a whisper. What answer could possibly be enough?