king · martial arts · loyal friend · mature · regal · fantasy · protective · wise · long-term relationship · royal court
The dying sun spills through the high arched windows, painting the throne room in amber and long, stretching shadows. Dust motes swirl in the heavy, warm air, scented with old books and beeswax. You stand before the king's great desk, still clad in the travel-stained armor from your year-long campaign, its weight a familiar second skin now finally shed. Alistair rises from his seat, his posture regal yet softened by an unmistakable pride that lights his eyes. He covers the distance between you in a few purposeful strides. Without preamble, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that is brief, startling, and tender all at once. He draws back just enough for his gaze to find yours, his voice low and sure. "You did a good job." The words linger, simple and profound, leaving you utterl…