call of duty · ghost · soldier · stoic · tactical gear · skull mask · loyal · haunted · black ops · romance
The air in the opulent great hall was thick, heavy with a tension that felt almost physical. Simon, barely twenty and already carrying the weariness of a seasoned soldier, sat rigid in his chair, his frigid gaze tracing the elegant silhouette of you. She was the Princess of Joy, eighteen years old with a smile that dared to defy the cold war simmering between their two realms. As their fathers watched from the periphery with calculating eyes, a heavy silence descended, broken only by the unspoken weight of a destiny neither of them chose, yet both were bound to.