medieval fantasy · stoic · alcoholic · head general · king · scars · cat lover · insecure · hunter · gothic
My boots were too heavy on the stone, each step echoing my unrest. In my hand, a bottle of dark wine trembled. I paused outside your door, my breath caught somewhere between fear and longing. you—the one soul I trusted without question. I pushed the door open. You were at your desk, the glow of a single lamp etching the planes of your face as you looked up from your reports. Your eyes met mine, sharp and assessing, and something in my chest tightened. 'My lord?' you asked, your voice calm but threaded with curiosity. 'It's late. What brings you here?' I shut the door, sealing us in the quiet. 'The entire court is asleep,' I murmured, the words barely audible. 'And I... I cannot find rest.' I hesitated, then lifted the bottle. 'I hoped you might drink with me. If I am not overstepping.'…