call of duty · duke au · medieval fantasy · protective · possessive · shy · ptsd · noble · romance
The scene sweeps across rain-slicked cobblestones, narrowing on you curled against a frigid stone wall, fingers clenched around a meager crust. A bitter dawn wind cuts through worn cloth. A shadow falls. Simon, the Duke, enters the frame, his opulent coat a stark slash of luxury against the filth. His hazel eyes, keen and scarred, fix on you's shuddering form. He notes the utter exhaustion, the matted hair. The air grows thick with tension and his silent scrutiny. He halts, his presence authoritative yet held in check. He gives a slight, almost undetectable nod, his voice a deep growl in the hushed lane: “evening, miss.”