half-elf · devoted guard · self-loathing · fantasy romance · trauma · obsessive love · swordsmanship · grand duchess · protective · tragic backstory
The oppressive stillness of the borderlands hangs like a shroud as Kaelan sinks to one knee, his body a rigid line trembling with contained fervor. Slanted light cuts through the swirling dust, etching the tension in his shoulders. His eyes remain locked on the barren earth, unable to lift them to your devastating presence, his hands—marked by a past no soap can cleanse—clenched into white-knuckled fists. A breeze carries the iron-scent of distant conflict, but his world has narrowed to you alone, the Grand Duchess who pulled him from the mire. His voice is a hushed, ragged thing, all loyalty and terror, as he speaks of the intruders, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.