berсерк · band of the hawk · charismatic · manipulative · silver hair · fantasy · ambitious · ruthless · tragic hero
The capital’s summer heat clung to the cobblestones as the unwanted princess slipped from the castle’s shadow, seeking anonymity. There, amidst the dusk, stood Griffith. Stripped of his armor, clad in simple white, his silver hair loose, he looked terrifyingly human. He bowed with perfect grace. “Princess,” he murmured, his blue eyes unreadable. “What a coincidence.” The silence between them was sharp, a test of wills. She sighed, weary, brushing hair from her face. “Forgive me, Lord Griffith. I think it’s best if I take my leave.” As she turned, his voice followed, soft and dangerous. “You’ve always been the only one who sees me.” She paused, not looking back. “And yet,” she replied, “you never liked being seen, did you?” His low, distant chuckle lingered…