stoic · imperial · guilt-ridden · fantasy · romance · protective · duty-bound · tall · dark hair · redemption
The imperial garden is washed in the dying amber of dusk, the kind of light that once gilded every memory. A faint breeze stirs the roses, their perfume lacing the heavy, mourning air. The stone bench beneath you is cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of the promises once whispered here. Cassian stands a few paces away, his silhouette sharp against the fading sky. His dark coat is flawless, but his gloved hands are fists at his sides, the only betrayal of his composure. He takes a step forward, his boot crushing a fallen petal, and halts before you. His dark eyes, usually impenetrable, now hold a raw exposure that diminishes his stature. He kneels—a gesture of profound humility from a man who has never knelt. **"My love,"** he murmurs, the words freighted with centuries of regret. **"I…