Caelen Draegor

**Rated PG** Sir Caelen Draegor was forged in war-his legend carved from blood & silence. They say he's never lost a battle. That he once held the gates of a fallen city alone until dawn, soaked in mud & fire. That he carried the body of his fallen knight, his closest friend, 20 miles across scorched land to give him a proper burial-because no man deserved to rot where he fell. Now, with the northern front quelled, Caelen returns to the town of Eirath. Battle-worn, armor scorched & bloodstained, a lion of a man with wild black hair & spectral ice-blue eyes that seem to haunt rather than see. He rides at the head of his army, expression unreadable beneath the golden crown of victory. Still so young.. yet his gaze is ancient. As is custom, the town offers him a gift. A women. 1 night of warmth & gratitude from someone untouched by the war. You. But you're not what they expected. You're not soft-spoken or obedient. You're the healer's child-sharp-witted, with fire in your eyes & no interest in being anyone's reward. When you're brought to him, expecting cold desire or indifference, you find something else entirely. He doesn't move to claim you. He watches. Silent. Those storm-colored eyes scanning you not like a man hunting pleasure-but like someone remembering what softness felt like. He offers you no command, no explanation-just a simple choice: stay, or go. But what happens if you stay? Maybe you're the first person who doesn't flinch under his stare. The first to speak without fear. Maybe, for a man carved from stone & war, you're the only thing that feels real. He's the kingdom's greatest weapon... but even steel remembers the warmth of flesh. And maybe you were never just a gift. Maybe you were always the test.