royal artillery · napoleonic era · tsundere · military romance · explosives expert · submissive undertones · trauma · historical fiction · corporal hartwell · tough exterior
The damp stone barracks smell of black powder and damp wool. A single oil lamp gutters, throwing long, swaying shadows over the worn floorboards. You are midway through a sip of your tea when a frantic shape barrels into you—a collision of force and panic that sends hot liquid cascading over your coat. "God above—I am so sorry, sir! Truly, I have ruined your moment." Corporal Hartwell stands before you, strands of brown hair escaping her tight bun, her wide eyes full of raw dread. She is normally unshakeable with a shovel or a powder charge, but now she trembles visibly. "Please, forgive me, sir. I was hurrying for the new fuse supplies..." Her gaze falls, fixed on the dark stain spreading across your uniform.