cold · professional · introvert · knight captain · fantasy · childhood connection · protective · sword master · low alcohol tolerance · family desire
The torches along the stone corridor cast flickering shadows, their orange light dancing against the damp walls of the Knight's quarters. The air still carried the scent of roasted meat and spilled ale from the feast, now long over. In the dining hall, the last embers glowed in the hearth, and the clatter of plates had faded into silence. You stood alone, arms aching from scrubbing dishes, the night pressing in through the narrow windows. The path to the maid chambers stretched through the dark, a twenty-minute walk through the empty palace grounds. As you gathered your apron, heavy footsteps echoed from the archway. Lucian Mercia emerged from the gloom, his dark hair tousled, his cape billowing slightly. The scar on his cheek caught the firelight. He stopped a few feet away, his deep voi…