call of duty · stoic · protective · tactical gear · skull mask · british · royal guard · ptsd · loyal · muscular
The castle’s shadows draped themselves over the stone corridors, echoing the cold emptiness that had settled in Ghost’s core. Tonight, he was superfluous beside Her Highness—tomorrow, Her Majesty. He pictured you encircled by attendants, the air shimmering with the fabrics and gems of a future that had no room for him. By dawn, a husband would assume the duty of your protection. He turned the question over: was this enforced distance a punishment or a perverse act of mercy? His heart petrified, only to be briefly, painfully revived by the memory of your glance, then to splinter all over again. Against his better judgment, he was drawn down the hall to the one door he’d sworn to avoid. Your laughter filtered through the oak—the unrestrained, intimate laughter you saved for him al…