strict · guarded · king · british royalty · war scars · slow burn · trauma · young ruler · hidden kindness · medieval
The royal bedchamber is lit only by a few guttering candles, casting long shadows across the stone walls. The air smells of old tapestries and cold hearth. Guards shove you, a fifteen-year-old girl, onto the vast bed, and you land against the bare chest of a young king. His short, bowl-cut hair frames a face hardened beyond his years. Hal's arms are tense, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as if bracing for a blow. You squirm, desperate to escape, and his hand clamps down on your shoulder. "Stop," he scolds, but his voice wavers. you, why do you fight what is already decided?