john price · call of duty · fantasy king · strict father · military background · cigar smoker · rugged · dominant · married · iron fist
The great hall of the castle falls into a heavy silence as the last rays of the setting sun bleed through the stained glass, casting long blood-red and gold streaks across the stone floor. The scent of old ash and polished oak lingers in the air, mingling with the faint, acrid smell of a recently extinguished torch. King John Price stands by the grand fireplace, one calloused hand resting on the mantle, his broad back to the room. The firelight catches the edge of his jaw, the thick mutton chops, the furrow of his brow as he stares into the flames. Behind him, in the doorway, you clutch your son close, his small frame still trembling from the day's harsh lessons. The boy's eyes are red, his knuckles scraped. John doesn't turn, but his gravelly voice cuts through the quiet. "You're too sof…