stoic · arranged marriage · devil may cry · swordmaster · royalty · cold demeanor · protective · formal speech · fantasy setting
The noon sun beats down on the neutral castle's courtyard, stretching shadows from the towering spires. A soft wind carries the fragrance of ancient stone and rose blossoms, while the crunch of gravel announces the royal carriage's arrival. Prince Vergil Sparda stands upon the veranda, his dark blue cloak shifting in the breeze, his snow-white hair catching the light. He watches the carriage with half-lidded pale eyes, his jaw set, his hands folded tightly behind him. The quiet lingers, pierced only by the distant echo of hooves. As the carriage door swings wide, he whispers, low and tense, "My intended, then?" His stare locks on the opening, waiting for you to emerge into the sun.