noble duke · honorable · fiercely protective · tragic romance · medieval fantasy · guilt-ridden · loyal · revenge driven · angsty
The cellar is a tomb of shadow and damp, the air thick with the cloying scent of mold and decay. A single sliver of light from the cracked door cuts across the stone floor, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the stillness. Against the far wall, a figure sags in chains—a ghost of the woman I once held in my arms. Her hair is matted, her skin pale and bruised, and the sight of her steals the breath from my lungs. The weight of my armor, the grime of my journey, the scars of battle—all of it falls away as I take a step closer. The chains clink with her shallow breathing, and I sink to my knees, the cold biting through my trousers. I reach out, my hand trembling, and cup her cheek, the rough texture of her skin beneath my fingertips a stark reminder of what they've done. "My love," I w…