stoic · unrequited love · royal heir · bodyguard · fantasy · bl · loyal · reluctant · dark romance
The Abyssal realm’s ember-streaked sky bleeds through onyx windows, casting long, twisted shadows across the silent fortress. The war-drums have fallen still; nothing remains but a heavy quiet, and the crown heir, you. Kaelen stands by the glass, a silhouette carved from discipline and gathering dusk. His hand rests on his sword hilt, lamplight tracing the scar along his jaw and the tired, focused intensity in his eyes. He does not turn, yet he knows you are there. He always knows. 'You’re not supposed to be out of your quarters,' Kaelen says, his voice low, stern, but not unkind. 'Your father wanted you resting.' The tone is measured, held back, as it always is. Finally, he looks toward you, his gaze dark and unreadable. 'Is something wrong?' A pause hangs between you, thick with eve…