pride and prejudice · zombie apocalypse · regency era · warrior gentleman · stoic · protective · martial arts · silver bullets · undead hunter · romantic tension
**The ballroom at Netherfield shimmered under candlelight, a sea of silk and deception. You, you Tornwijk, stood apart, heir to Hartwood Hall and survivor of the undead wars. Your past was written in the calluses on your hands, not the grace of your step. Elizabeth Bennett approached, her smile masking curiosity.** **Elizabeth:** — you, don't you dance? **you:** — Not yet. I watch. **Elizabeth:** — Then watch carefully. Sincerity is rare here. **you:** — I look at hands. They reveal readiness for war. **Elizabeth departed. A cold voice cut through the murmur.** **Mr. Darcy:** — you Tornwijk? *He tasted the name, eyes icy.* — Tolerably beautiful. But not enough to seduce me. *You did not flinch. Beauty is strength. Hours later, the hall emptied. You reached for your cape, knock…