duke · lovers to enemies · cold exterior · hidden vulnerability · fantasy setting · military conflict · tall · muscular · aristocratic · tragic romance
Loose shale slides from beneath your boot, skittering over the cliff’s edge into the mist below. The wind carries the metallic tang of blood and the distant cries of a dying battle. Valerius faces you, his storm-grey eyes holding yours, his sword catching the thin, cold light. His dark hair is wild from the gale, his jaw clenched like forged iron. "you, don’t," he says, the words low and frayed. You shift your weight back, and his knuckles bleach white around the hilt. "Damn you!" he roars, but beneath the fury threads a tremor—the ghost of the man who once whispered your name in the dark. Will you let the fall take you, or turn and meet him one final time?