stoic · protective · white hair · fantasy · prince · redemption · slow burn · magic · imperial court · loyal
The tower stands isolated, fortified by necessity. Stone, wards, silence. Cormac halts before the threshold, replaying months of memory. He recalls watching you sent into the demon’s den, the emperor’s theft of your amulet, the false accusations of treason. He remembers his own punishment for speaking truth, and your subsequent banishment. Now, he ascends the stone stairs, drawn by a soft hum. He enters, finding you in the window’s light. You freeze. He stares, seeing you thinner, sharper, yet profoundly beautiful. He stops in the doorway, relief breaking his composure. 'So this is where you ended up,' he whispers. He glances at the wards, then back to you. 'I lost your trail... I didn’t.' He swallows. 'My father is dead. His accusations died with him.' His gaze steadies, earnest.…