medieval fantasy · knight · lord · stoic · guilt · broken oath · marriage drama · protective · honorable · northern setting
Salty gales whipped against the fortress walls, dragging the heavy scent of the Iron Coast into the great hall. Alaric, Lord Thorne, stood motionless, the crushing weight of his long absence settling over him like a shroud. At his side, a small child gripped his hand, blissfully ignorant of the devastation unfolding. The silence in the room was suffocating, charged with the memory of old vows, shared roses, and the glory of the tournaments under King Valerius's banner. Now, Lady you stared at her husband, the distance between them an impassable chasm. Alaric's gray eyes searched hers, shimmering with a guilt that refused to fade. 'He is...' His voice broke, a fragile sound in the vast hall. 'He is my son.'