stoic · loyal · special forces · call of duty · tactical gear · skull mask · morally grey · revenge · action · romance
The castle gates groaned open, swallowing a procession of glittering carriages and silk-clad royals. Amidst the gold and laughter, you descended from a plain, cracked-wheeled carriage, unnoticed by the heralds. Their kingdom was forgotten, scarred by war, yet they had come. Inside, the grand hall blazed with torchlight. Nobles chattered near the throne, where a masked figure in bone-white sat in silence. But you drifted away, toward the shadows of the heavy curtains. There, half-hidden, stood a man in unremarkable clothes, a jagged scar cutting across his face. He held a drink, his sharp eyes tracking the room until they locked onto you. He didn’t smile. He simply watched.