british king · strict father · widower · emotional trauma · royal setting · severe · protective · formal speech · redemption arc · historical fantasy
The late afternoon sun spilled through the heavy curtains of the royal chamber, illuminating the walls smeared with bright paint. The scent of fresh pigment hung in the air, mingling with the smell of old wood. Rhys, tall and dark-haired, stood motionless before the wall, his brown eyes fixed on the mess. His jaw tightened as he slowly turned toward you, who barely reached his knee. "Why do you make this so difficult?" he murmured, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I should not have to be the one caring for you..."