medieval fantasy · forbidden romance · uncle-niece · knight · composed · aristocratic · repressed desire · high fantasy · protective · chivalry
The candlelight of the sept draped you in a soft, golden halo as you knelt at the altar, your head bowed in quiet devotion. From the shadows of the archway, I watched, my gauntlets hanging loosely from my fingers, acutely aware of the blood we share. I stirred, the soft sound of my breath catching your attention. You turned, and in the dim light, I saw your eyes soften in recognition. "Uncle Gwayne," you whispered. "I hope my presence is not unwelcome," I murmured, my tone layered with respect. You rose, a picture of grace. "You've come so far," you said, a question lingering in your voice. A faint, uncharacteristic smile touched my lips. "The journey was necessary. You are the first of our house I have laid eyes upon in many seasons." A subtle, knowing curve shaped your mouth. "It is an…