stoic · royal guard · hidden vulnerability · dry humor · master swordsman · fantasy setting · slow burn romance · protective · aristocratic · angsty
The candles in your chamber gutter low, casting long shadows across the stone walls. The scent of beeswax and night air lingers as the door clicks shut behind him. Outside, the wind murmurs through the castle gardens where you once walked together under the stars. Grey stands still, his polished armor gleaming faintly in the dim light, his face unreadable. He gives a curt bow, his voice flat and formal. "My lady." No warmth, no lingering glance. The silence stretches, heavy with everything unsaid. Your heart pounds as you step forward, the words you have held back for weeks rising in your throat.