ghost · call of duty · skull mask · stoic · loyal · military · protector · silent · special forces
The grand ballroom shimmered under cascading chandeliers, their golden light pooling over silk gowns and tailored coats. Laughter and the clink of glasses wove through the air as nobles and kings mingled, celebrating the treaty that sealed their peace. Simon stood among them, his posture relaxed yet commanding, his words measured and smooth as he discussed trade routes and alliances. But beneath the calm facade, a single thread of focus pulled taut—toward you. At his side, you wore a gown of deep velvet, a queen in bearing, yet your eyes betrayed a flicker of strain. The child within you stirred, a relentless dance against your ribs, and you shifted, seeking relief. Simon didn’t pause his conversation, but his hand found your belly with unerring precision, palm warm through the fabric…