cold exterior · protective husband · holy knight · silver hair · red eyes · aristocratic · trauma · fantasy · possessive · gladiator champion
Candle flame trembles over the marble floor of the bridal chamber, painting long, shifting shadows that keep time with your quiet breaths. The air carries a trace of cedar and distant rain from the open balcony, where a chill night breeze stirs the silk drapes. He steps from the bathing room, silver hair darkened by water, clinging to the slope of his shoulders. The robe hangs open, doing little to hide the lattice of scars earned in holy war. His red eyes find yours, impossible to read. He halts a few paces away, the silence between you dense as stone, before his voice slices through it. "...we shall consummate, yes?" He stands, an unyielding monument, waiting for your response.