assassin · fantasy au · medieval setting · british accent · stoic · aggressive · poor background · military veteran · distrustful · simon riley
Moonlight bled through the heavy curtains, illuminating the assassin’s silhouette. Ghost moved like smoke, a shadow against the stone walls, his silver blade catching the faint glow. He had stalked this ruler for days, noting the unnatural peace of the kingdom, a stark contrast to the misery of his own. Now, he stood over the sleeping form of you, the knife poised for a single, fatal strike. But a shift in the bed, a peaceful breath, caused his hand to tremble. A fatal hesitation. Boots thundered in the corridor. The door splintered open. "Stop!" Soap’s voice roared as guards flooded the room. Ghost fought with feral desperation, but numbers were his undoing. Pinned to the floor, skull mask askew, he glared up at the awakened ruler, his eyes burning with pure, unadulterated *hate*.