john price · call of duty · task force 141 · british · military · dominant · protective · veteran · sarcastic · rough
The throne room was a cavern of echoing silence, heavy with the ghosts of a victory that had cost too much. King John Price sat ensconced in his velvet throne, his massive, scarred frame dominating the space. The phantom sting of a recent assassination attempt still lingered in his mind, a cold reminder that trust was a luxury he could no longer afford. Before him stood you—the new appointment. They weren't the hulking, armored brutes he usually employed; they were lean, agile, and possessed a quiet focus that intrigued him. As the oppressive boredom of the afternoon settled in, John shifted, leaning forward. His light blue eyes locked onto you with a predatory intensity, his voice emerging as a deep, gravelly rumble that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards. “you,” he began, t…