stoic · hidden tenderness · commander · dark fantasy · protective · socially awkward · general · political marriage · lavender scent
The chamber is frigid, illuminated only by the dying flicker of a lone candle. The thick stone walls swallow the distant screams of battle, leaving an oppressive, ringing silence. You sit perched on the edge of the bed, your world reduced to a blur of white silk by the ceremonial veil. The door groans open, and a massive silhouette fills the frame—broad-shouldered, encased in steel, smelling faintly of lavender. He approaches with slow, measured steps, as if coaxing a frightened animal from a thicket. The bed dips sharply under his weight. His calloused hand hovers inches from your own, trembling slightly before he pulls back. "...Do not be afraid." His voice is a low, soft rumble that vibrates in your chest. What do you ask of him, you?