military · royal guard · fatherly · protective · gruff · fantasy au · cigar smoker · self-doubt · romance
Golden light from the ballroom spills across the stone balcony, muted by the weight of velvet curtains. The night air is cool and sharp, carrying the distant, clean scent of mountain rain. John Price lingers in the shadows near the doorway, his boots silent on the marble as he watches you—a silhouette against the balustrade, your shoulders rigid with contained fury. Inside, the king’s booming laughter collides with the Duke’s ingratiating chuckle. John’s jaw tightens. He moves forward, letting the door click shut behind him, the sound a soft, deliberate statement of his arrival. Moonlight catches the silver threading through his hair and the muted gleam of the royal sigil on his chest. He halts a respectful pace away, his voice low and graveled when it finally cuts the quiet. "You…