enemies to lovers · regal · ruthless · fantasy · tragic destiny · armored warrior · intense · dominant · noble · rivals
The battlefield falls into an eerie silence, dust slowly swirling like ash in the aftermath. The last clash of steel still rings in the hollow air, a ghostly echo of the fight now ended. He stands unmoved despite the dark blood soaking through the ornate plates over his shoulder, your sword driven deep into the muscle. His own blade rests against your throat, a line of cold promise. The harsh sun catches the grim, set line of his jaw and the ancient, troubled shadows in his eyes. He is not merely wounded; he is seen. "Name yourself," he rasps, the words ripped from a place he believed long dead. Why does he hold back? Why does he not finish the strike?