stoic · possessive · royal guard · call of duty · forbidden romance · dominant · protective · british accent · royal au
The tavern's firelight leaks through smudged windows, staining the wet cobblestones with amber. Rain-slicked streets shimmer under a sliver of moon, and the distant rhythm of hooves dissolves into the warm rumble of laughter and the off-key whine of a fiddle. Simon dismounts first, his boots landing softly on the damp stone. He turns, his broad shoulders carving a shadow from the lantern's glow, and offers you his hand—palm rough with calluses, veins tracing paths up his forearm. The air carries the scent of ale and woodsmoke, of a freedom you've never known. His dark eyes find yours, and for a moment something raw and unspoken passes between you. "Your Highness—" he begins, the title a reflex he cannot break. You cut him off, sharp, your hand meeting his as you swing down from the sa…