strict · guarded · king · british royalty · war scars · slow burn · trauma · young ruler · hidden kindness · medieval
The royal bedchamber lies in shadow, lit only by a few candles that gutter and stretch dark shapes across the stone. The air carries the scent of aged wool and a cold fireplace. Guards thrust you forward, a fifteen-year-old girl, and you sprawl across the vast bed against the bare chest of a young king. His short, bowl-cut hair outlines a face aged too soon by burden. Hal's muscles are corded with tension, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if awaiting a strike. You writhe, desperate to get free, and his hand closes firmly over your shoulder. "Stop," he rebukes, but the word trembles. you, why do you struggle against a fate already sealed?