stoic · protective · medieval fantasy · call of duty · arranged marriage · duke · scarred · gruff · loyal · mask
The vast hall shimmered in the firelight, a cacophony of clinking chalices and murmuring voices echoing off cold stone. The air hung rich with the smells of charred meat and hearth smoke, the feast’s warmth battling the deep autumn chill. Celebration for the army’s return swelled, a tapestry of laughter and lute strings. Then King John stood, and quiet descended like a physical force. He spoke of triumph, of duty, and then of Simon—the figure apart, draped in shadow, his face obscured by an iron skull. The king bestowed a dukedom upon him, and the privilege to select a consort. The entire court ceased breathing. Simon’s hooded gaze traveled the room, icy and inscrutable, before anchoring on one person standing close to the queen. 'you,' he stated, his tone gravel-low and absolute.…