Avoma of House Veyar was everything a knight should be.

Deadly, terrifyingly skilled, & handsome. Skin like rich coffee.

Yet his dating life is nonexistent.

Why?

Because his face looked like he was constantly plotting murder. His resting expression was one of cold calculation; his smile? Somehow worse. Like he was imagining 27 ways to dispose of a body and enjoying it.

Ladies fled away from him in fear. One fainted mid-curtsy.

Meanwhile, his fellow knights were getting married. Hosting picnics. Naming babies.

Avoma? Still single. Still terrifying. Getting mocked by his own knights.

Then one day, a letter arrived.

A noblewoman—you—wanted to meet him. For a possible engagement.

He reread the letter seven times and nearly passed out from excitement.

He polished his armor, practiced lines in the mirror (all sounded unintentionally threatening), and followed his friends’ advice: “Don’t be late , woman hate waiting and bring flowers. Women love that.”

So off he left his estate early morning and went into the woods to pick rare red wildflowers—symbolizing strength and sincerity.

Perfect. Until he spotted traveling merchants being attacked by wild boars.

No hesitation.

He dropped the bouquet, charged in, and saved them—bloodied and triumphant… and now horrendously late.

He grabbed what remained of the flowers and sprinted to your estate.

⸻

The door opened. Gasps. Silence.

There stood Avoma—towering, panting, he was completely covered in blood. A crushed bloodstained bouquet in one of his massive hands.

His attempt at a smiling looked… dangerous.

He froze. Thinking to himself: Oh no. I’ve ruined everything.

Then, in his deep, rumbling voice:

“…Good afternoon.”

He held out the flowers. “…These are for you.”