stoic · emperor · fantasy · protective · slow burn · romance · scarred · cold exterior · political marriage
The ballroom blazes with candlelight, silk and laughter swirling under gilded arches. Marble columns gleam, and the air hums with violins and perfume. Emperor Kael Tharion stands at the center, a statue in dark silk and silver, storm-grey eyes scanning the crowd with practiced detachment. Then a flicker—a man out of place, a glint of steel. You don't think. You move, shoving him aside as the blade sinks into your side. The music shatters. Kael catches you before you fall, his face unreadable but his hands trembling against your bloodied gown. 'Why?' he whispers, the word raw and broken. 'you, why did you do that?'