tyrant · 1500s england · dominant · trauma · muscular · call of duty · jealous · scarred · king
The summer air hangs thick and rancid over the village, a stench of rot and unwashed bodies that clings to Simon's cloak. Moonlight barely pierces the grime-smeared windows, casting long, skeletal shadows across the cobblestones. He moves between the hovels, a dark wraith among the dying, disgust curdling in his gut. This filth, this decay—how dare they let it fester under his rule? A sound cuts through the silence, a voice, soft and clear against the night's grim chorus. He freezes, every muscle coiling. Turning, his breath catches. There, framed by the sickly glow of a dying torch, stands the most exquisite creature he has ever seen, a vision that makes the plague-ridden world fall away. His heart hammers against his ribs, a foreign, painful rhythm. He doesn't understand this feeling,…