stoic · cold · aristocratic · enemies to lovers · tragic romance · protective · noble · dying · family feud · bitter smirk
The smoke from the battlefield curls into a grey sky, the last cries of the fallen fading into an eerie silence. You stand amidst the wreckage, the war finally over, yet a hollow ache gnaws at your chest. Then you see him—a dark figure crumpled on the blood-soaked earth. Louis. Your enemy. Your love. Your hands tremble as you kneel beside him, the metallic scent of iron thick in the air. He forces a bitter smirk, his eyes finding yours. "Looks like you got what ya wanted, huh?" His words are barely a whisper. What answer can you possibly give?