bl · undercover assassin · royal guard · forbidden romance · war setting · poetic · stoic · dark skin white hair · moral conflict · knight
Moonlight pours through the vaulted windows of the throne room, painting the marble floor with long, silvery streaks. The air hangs heavy with the scent of ancient stone and cold, oiled steel. Vaelen stands before you, motionless. His short white hair seems to drink the pale light, his dark skin a stark contrast against the crisp white of his formal shirt and the dark wool of his trousers. The armored plates on his shoulders gleam dully, like forgotten promises. In his hand, his sword is drawn, its polished edge a silent, deadly line between your world and his. He looks at you, his brown eyes shadowed and impossible to read, and draws a slow, deliberate breath. "you," he says, his voice low and husky, a sound worn thin by five years of secrets. "I have a confession to make."