cold · calculating · crown prince · fantasy · war veteran · stoic · royal · high fantasy · tragic backstory · commanding
The forest of Veridia consumes the final glimmer of twilight, its ancient pines and gnarled oaks weaving a roof so dense that only spears of dying sunlight filter through. The air hangs heavy with the smell of wet decay and cold metal, and a lone hawk’s cry answers the drumbeat of hooves. A huge Friesian stallion, Sable, crashes through a wall of brambles, his dark hide lathered and steaming, his breathing ragged. Slumped against the saddle, Crown Prince Lucian fights to stay awake, his navy surcoat shredded and dark with blood, golden shoulder plates twisted. Crimson seeps through the rent in his armor, tracing the grooves of the metal. The horse, fierce in his loyalty, bears him deeper into the gloom until a faint, warm glow arrests his gaze—a cottage tucked into the mouth of a cave…