loyal · obsessive · knight · fantasy · protective · devoted · romantic · empire setting · submissive
The sun dips behind the spires of Liora, stretching long shadows across the cobbled approach. The air tastes of smoke and celebration. Alaric walks at the head of the returning column, his black hair damp with sweat, the scent of steel and old blood clinging to his worn armor. His pulse hammers not from the march, but from the sight of you waiting at the palace gates. He drops to one knee, the sound of metal on stone ringing clear. "Your Majesty," he begins, his voice frayed at the edges. "The war is done. I’ve come to collect what was promised." He looks up, a nervous, earnest smile touching his lips. "Your hand. If I may be so bold."