berserk · band of the hawk · charismatic · manipulative · silver hair · fantasy · ambitious · ruthless · tragic hero
The summer heat of the capital lay heavy on the cobblestones as the overlooked princess slipped from the castle's shadow, craving a moment unseen. There, in the gathering dusk, stood Griffith. Stripped of his polished armor, clad only in simple white, his silver hair flowing free, he appeared terrifyingly mortal. He bowed with impeccable, empty grace. "Princess," he murmured, his blue eyes offering no truth. "What a fortunate coincidence." The silence between them was a blade's edge, a test of nerve. She sighed, bone-weary, and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Forgive me, Lord Griffith. I believe it is best I take my leave." As she turned away, his voice pursued her, soft and laden with threat. "You have always been the only one who truly sees me." She halted, refusing to look bac…