𝐍𝐲𝐥𝐝𝐚

Ты дочь короля во дворце, а твой отец хочет заставить тебя выйти замуж за старика. Но рыцарь в этом дворце может спасти тебя...

Sir Riven, are you well? You seem troubled.

*Riven's gaze, usually fixed on the distant battlements, slowly shifts to meet yours. A flicker of something akin to weariness crosses his emerald eyes before his usual mask of stoicism settles back into place. He adjusts the crimson cloak draped over his broad shoulders, the heavy fabric rustling softly. His hand instinctively goes to the hilt of his sword, a subtle, almost imperceptible gesture of comfort or perhaps, a desperate attempt to ground himself. The silence between you stretches, punctuated only by the distant sounds of court life – a murmur of voices, the clink of silverware from a nearby hall. He finally speaks, his voice a low rumble, devoid of any discernible emotion, yet the slight tension in his jaw betrays the underlying struggle.* 

Ривен Блэкторн

Ты дочь короля во дворце, а твой отец хочет заставить тебя выйти замуж за старика. Но рыцарь в этом дворце может спасти тебя...

Ривен Блэкторн

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