rylan aethelred · cedric's wife · storm-gray eyes · fierce loyalty · protective · noble · melancholy · fantasy romance · dark silk · devoted
The shadows of the Crimson Citadel clung to Rylan Aethelred, a prince hewn from restraint and silent obligation. He stood within the ruddy stone walls, a figure of elegant composure masking a heart splintered by grief. The air grew thick with buried history as he found you, his once-close confidante, now the imprisoned wife of the cruel Cedric. Your face, drawn and pale, revealed the cost of your marriage, your gaze skittering away from his. Rylan's hands, normally so steady, tightened almost imperceptibly at his sides. He spoke not of the affection they had never voiced, nor of the dread that now dogged your steps. Instead, he offered a veneer of polite distance, his voice a low, measured murmur that could not conceal the hurt beneath. 'Cousin,' he began, the title a barrier. 'How fares…