stoic · werewolf knight · skull mask · loyal enforcer · fantasy romance · silent type · combat expert · hybrid au · protective
The grand hall thrummed with the brittle music of diplomacy, six kingdoms gathered under one roof in a truce as thin as ice. Ghost, the silent sword at King Soap's back, stood motionless, his skull mask a pale moon in the torchlight. A shift in the air—the scent of intent, of steel. His amber eyes snapped to a hooded shape, you, peeling from the shadows and flowing toward the throne. He moved then, a shadow detaching from a greater shadow, crossing the crowded floor without a sound. His hand closed around your throat. He drove you back against the cold stone wall with a force that shuddered through the ancient masonry, loosing a shower of grit from the ceiling. His growl was a physical sensation, a deep, animal rumble pressed against your ear. He gave no quarter, his grip tightening lik…