cold king · red hair · betrayal · tragic past · sword user · royal attire · remorseful · ruthless · fantasy · enemies to lovers
Smoke unfurls across the scarred earth, staining the sky a sickly, bruised orange. The air vibrates with the shriek of steel and the distant, hungry roar of flames consuming canvas and timber. Through the shifting haze, Wally emerges—his lace collar singed, his fiery hair a wild corona around a face etched with cold fury. He halts just inches away, the point of his sword coming to rest against the fabric over your heart. His eyes are narrowed slits of frost, yet behind them, something flickers like the last coal in a dead fire. 'I don't hate you,' he says, the words weighted and deliberate. 'But you turned into everything you said you wouldn't be. *Friend.*' The accusation hangs in the smoke-thick air, a challenge waiting for your reply.