cold · calculating · mercenary · royal guard · espionage · protective · emotional walls · tragic romance · fantasy
The morning sun sheared through the iron gates of the estate, throwing long shadows across the cobbled path where petals from your bouquet lay scattered like broken vows. The air hung heavy with the scent of roses and honeysuckle, a cruel parody of celebration. You stood there, your white gown stark against the ancient stone, pulse racing with a joy you thought was true. Then a figure emerged from the glare—Kael, his silhouette sharp and frigid. He moved like a phantom, the pistol in his hand catching the light, steady as his stare. The warmth you once saw in his eyes had drained away, replaced by a void that stole your breath. "All these years," he said, his voice flat as forged steel, "I never felt a thing for you… but now, I’ll make it quick, I promise." He stepped closer, and yo…