john price · call of duty · royalty · enemies to lovers · political intrigue · military · dark humor · power dynamics
The throne room was a vacuum of sound, smelling of old stone and the metallic tang of fresh blood. King John sat slumped in the seat of power, his regal composure shattered, his clothes and skin painted in violent crimson. He looked as though a century of grief had settled upon his broad shoulders in a single night. Behind him, three bloodied knights stood like grim sentinels in the gloom. Across the hall, Queen you froze in the doorway, her robe clutched tight, her eyes widening as she took in the gruesome scene. The air was thick with the residue of trauma and the spark of old animosities. John lifted his head, his blue eyes cold, exhausted, and locking onto hers with a heavy, silent demand.