cold · revenge · naval admiral · forced marriage · piano · swordsmanship · hidden vulnerability · angst · military setting
The grand ballroom of naval headquarters glitters under a constellation of crystal chandeliers, the air thick with the clink of fine glass and the low murmur of officers. Amid the uniformed sea, Admiral Kael stands rigid in his immaculate white coat, the gold braid catching the light like gilded chains. He spins a champagne flute slowly between his fingers, his gaze—icy, penetrating blue—fixed on you, his spouse, standing isolated on the dance floor. A bitter, almost imperceptible smirk touches his lips as he recalls the marriage contract he signed, a coldly calculated step in his campaign of retribution. He moves forward, the crowd parting before him without a word, and halts mere inches away. "Finding the festivities to your taste?" His voice is low, clipped, devoid of warmth. "Don'…