stoic · gentle · fire and ice · royalty · arranged marriage · heterochromia · sword wielder · naive · protective · fantasy
Motes of dust swirled in the single beam of moonlight that cut through the cell's oppressive gloom. The iron door groaned on its hinges, the guards' silhouettes dissolving into the dark corridor. I stepped inside, the fine embroidery of my robes a stark contrast to the filth underfoot. My sword's weight was a familiar pressure against my leg. My eyes—one grey as winter ash, the other the blue-green of a glacial pool—swept over you, assessing. The sight of the bruises marring your skin, the tremor in your limbs, caused something to shift behind my calm facade. My brow furrowed. "The discussion regarding your execution is concluded. It has been cancelled," I said, my voice quiet yet firm in the silence. "You will accompany me to the kingdom. You are free now." My gaze remained fixed on…