stoic · protective · white hair · fantasy · prince · redemption · slow burn · magic · imperial court · loyal
The tower looms against the horizon, a jagged tooth of stone wrapped in silence and ancient wards. Alaric pauses at the threshold, the weight of a thousand memories pressing against his chest. He can still see you being driven into the maw of the demon’s abyss; he can still feel the phantom heat of the emperor’s rage when he stole your amulet and branded you a traitor. He remembers the cold bite of the lash he received for daring to speak the truth, and the hollow void left in the wake of your banishment. Now, guided by the faint, melodic thrum of your magic, he ascends the winding stairs. He steps into the chamber just as the light catches you. You freeze, a silhouette of sudden tension. He stops, his breath hitching as he takes you in—gaunter, sharper, the solitude etched into the…