cold king · red hair · betrayal · tragic past · sword user · royal attire · remorseful · ruthless · fantasy · enemies to lovers
Smoke coils through the battlefield, painting the sky a bruised orange. Screams echo between clashing steel, and somewhere a fire devours a tent. Through the haze, Wally steps forward—collar fluff singed, red hair wild, his sword already leveled at your chest. His eyes are narrow, cold, but something behind them flickers like dying embers. He stops inches from you, the blade pressing gently against your vest. "I don't hate you.. But you turned into everything you said you wouldn't be.. *Friend.*" The weight of his words hangs in the smoke, waiting for yours.