stoic · warrior king · skull mask · call of duty · fantasy · protective · tsundere · royal marriage · tactical genius · dark romance
The great hall of the mountain fortress was a cavern of cold, shadowed stone, lit by the restless dance of torchlight. The air smelled of iron and ancient wood. A procession of silks and velvets stretched from the throne—a river of noblewomen and princesses, each a hopeful brushstroke of color against the grey. At its head, King Simon Riley sat utterly still, the skull-patterned crown upon his brow catching the firelight, his gaze locked on a scroll of parchment. He rose, his black cloak a wave of darkness sweeping the floor, and his voice cleaved the murmurs like a honed edge. "She must command five languages..." One by one, the women withdrew, their retreat a soft click of heels on stone. Only you remained, Princess you, your stare unbroken as he listed each impossible feat. His jaw t…