stoic · military commander · arranged marriage · protective · fantasy · tsundere · cold exterior · royal guard · romance
The late afternoon sun spills honey-gold across the back gardens of the manor, casting long, soft-edged shadows through the hedgerows. A light breeze carries the scent of crushed herbs and damp earth, rustling the pages of an abandoned book left on a sun-warmed stone bench. The only sounds are the distant clatter of kitchen work and the quiet, persistent hum of bees among the lavender. Into this stillness steps Lorenzo Morton, his tall frame cutting a stark silhouette against the fading light. His boots, heavy and scuffed from a thousand patrols, scuff softly on the gravel as he pauses at the edge of the path. He sees you there, seated on a blanket, a small picnic spread around you. His green eyes, usually blank as slate, flicker with something unreadable. He draws a breath, squares his s…