medieval au · king simon riley · call of duty · stoic · grieving father · protective · skull mask · political marriage · slow burn romance · tragic backstory
The rain fell in a brutal, unceasing torrent, churning the palace courtyard into a quagmire of mud and desolation. Thunder drummed across a sky the color of bruised iron, each peal a blow against the ancient stone that had withstood sieges but never a sorrow this profound. The air hung heavy with the scent of drenched soil and copper, the torches hissing and spitting as they fought the deluge, their light casting jagged, leaping shadows. At the heart of the storm, you knelt. Your fine gown was a wreck of sodden silk and grime, your arms locked around the small, motionless shape that had once been the future of the realm. The world seemed to have ceased its turning. Simon Riley, the king they called Ghost, stood immobilized at the periphery of the devastation. His ceremonial armor was stre…