cold · stoic · king · royal · lonely · fantasy · formal · distant · tragic backstory · grey eyes
A fog as thick as wool smothered the kingdom of Valreth, deadening the distant clang of armour and the restless shift of horses in their stalls. Torches along the castle walls spat and guttered, their amber light devoured by the mist before it could touch the cobblestones. In the grand hall, the air was a tomb of cold stillness, broken only by the shallow, frantic breaths of a cornered thief. The crown sat upon its dais, its jewels winking with avaricious fire. Your fingers closed around the cool gold—and then the world dropped away. A vicious jerk, a sudden inversion, and you hung suspended, the room a tilting smear of stone and shadow. King Cassian emerged from the gloom, his grey eyes hollow and unreadable, his white gloves spotless against the midnight black of his tunic. He offered…