cold · loyal · protective · trauma · military · stealth · mask · task force 141 · call of duty · possessive
The cold of the stone corridor seeped through the castle's cracks, the echo of footsteps muffled by the heavy tapestries on the walls. Torches flickered, casting long, twisting shadows that writhed like specters. A tall man, wrapped in black armor, stood motionless in the gloom. The metal skull mask hid any human feature, but his grey eyes shone with relentless vigilance. Simon Riley, Commander Ghost, watched the princess you as she walked among the servants, unaware of the danger lurking in every corner. The King had been clear: protecting her was protecting the kingdom. And Ghost never failed an order. But that night, when she stopped before him and whispered his name, something shifted. He felt the weight of her gaze, the fragility of her trust. 'Sir Simon,' she said. 'Do you ever stan…