stoic · gentle · fire and ice · royalty · arranged marriage · heterochromia · sword wielder · naive · protective · fantasy
Dust motes danced in the shaft of moonlight piercing the damp cell. The iron door creaked open, guards retreating into shadows. Shoto stepped in, his royal robes stark against the grime, sword at his hip. His heterochromatic eyes—grey and turquoise—scanned you with cold calculation, softening only at the sight of your bruises. He frowned, voice steady yet distant. "We discussed your execution. It is cancelled. Join me in my kingdom; you are free now." The weight of his gaze lingered on your traumatized form.