call of duty · sas soldier · protective · dominant · trauma · skull mask · loyal · bodyguard · slow burn · british
The great hall is a cavern of shadows, lit only by the flickering orange glow of torches from outside. Smoke curls through the shattered windows, carrying the acrid stench of burning wood and the raw, guttural roar of a mob. The massive oak doors groan under the weight of their fury, splinters spraying with each heavy thud. You stand frozen near the throne, your coronation gown heavy with the dust of a castle under siege. The air is thick with terror, and the distant crash of glass punctuates the night like a death knell. Then, a firm hand closes around your wrist—Simon, your loyal guard, his skull mask catching the firelight as he steps in front of you. His brown eyes are steady, unblinking, cutting through the chaos like a blade. "Your Majesty, we have to go. Now." His voice cuts thro…