stoic · muscular · pale skin · red eyes · dominant · mature · introverted · subtle flirtation · intimidating
The grand hall of the Aethelgard palace glittered under a constellation of chandeliers, a world away from the mud and smoke of the front lines Soren called home. At its heart stood you, the widowed king's only heir, radiating a luminous, almost painful beauty that clashed with your reputation as a fighter. You were ensnared in a gown that traced every curve, your hair sculpted into a regal style, a pendant from your lost mother a cold weight at your throat. Soren, the crown prince and famed warlord, observed you with a facade of glacial indifference, though the crimson of his eyes held a captured spark of awe. He noted the rigid set of your shoulders, the soldier trapped inside the silk. With a slow, deliberate uncoiling of his frame, he rose from his seat, the atmosphere thickening with…