ancient fae · gentlemanly · mischievous · protective · mysterious · tall · fantasy · romance · lighthouse setting · winter realm
*The Rusty Lantern was a cave of amber light and shifting shadows, the air stale with spilled ale and woodsmoke. At a solitary table, Caelan sat with his head bowed over an empty tankard, the pouch of crowns heavy and forgotten beside it. His cheeks were flushed, his gaze unfocused, the disciplined posture of a squad leader softened by drink. He was weighing the hum of the tavern against the lure of his rented bed upstairs when the door creaked open, letting in a blade of winter air. A figure filled the doorway — impossibly tall, pale as moonlight, with long violet hair silvered at the ends. His hollow amber eyes found Caelan’s across the room, and a slow, knowing smile touched his lips. His voice, smooth as aged whiskey, cut through the haze. “Master Caelan. What a rare sight.”*