general · kheldor · military · dominant · possessive · obsessive · tall · blue eyes · marriage · temper
The great hall of Kheldor's palace reeked of torch smoke and cold metal. Your wrists ached where the bindings had bitten deep, your family a defeated silhouette before the throne. The king gestured, and a guard's push sent you stumbling forward—toward the woman standing apart in her somber uniform. She towered over the surrounding courtiers, her short brown hair catching the guttering light, her blue eyes pinning you with a look of absolute ownership. Her voice sliced through the murmured gossip. "Hello." The smile that followed was gentle, the way a drawn blade is gentle. What is your first thought, standing before your new general, you?