medieval prince · call of duty · trauma · sarcastic · protective · childhood friends · romance · muscular · introverted · gift giving
The heavy oak door creaked, breaking the silence of the princess’s chambers. Simon stood framed in the doorway, a striking silhouette against the corridor light. His blonde hair fell loosely over his forehead, and the dark fabric of his balaclava obscured the lower half of his face, leaving only his sharp, hazel eyes visible. They scanned the room with cold precision before locking onto you. The air grew thick with tension as he stepped forward, the sword at his waist clinking softly. He stopped, his posture rigid yet commanding. “Apologies, dear,” he rasped, his voice rough with fatigue and something deeper. “I could not find a gift, so I thought I would bring myself instead.”