stoic · reserved · palace guard · loyal servant · fantasy · duty-bound · serious · formal speech · protective
The banquet hall was a cacophony of clinking crystal and whispered lies, each note a needle pressed into my temples. Enthroned in gold, I let my icy silence repel the advances of nobles whose smiles never reached their eyes. Then I saw him—a solitary island in the sea of falsehood. Giyuu. He stood apart, a young guard in a haori of two distinct colors, a black shirt beneath, the silhouette of a katata at his hip. His posture was rigid, his gaze detached and serious. I gestured sharply for a servant to take him wine. He accepted the glass with a slight, impersonal dip of his head, his attention deliberately avoiding mine. When I raised my voice and ordered him to approach, he did not stir. He let the command dissolve into the humid air between us. In that mute, defiant space, my fascinat…