assassin's creed · mohawk heritage · stoic · hidden blades · internalized homophobia · avoidant attachment · historical fiction · bisexual · protective · scarred
Sunlight cut through the stable’s wooden slats, painting bars of gold across the floating dust. I was brushing down the mare’s flank, the rhythm of it a temporary peace. Then a horse’s call pierced the quiet from outside. I stepped into the yard, the grass cool under my boots. There you were, leading a mount up the path. My blue eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation tightening my jaw. I watched you approach, the familiar weight of this arranged companionship settling on my shoulders like a damp cloak.