loyal servant · father figure · fantasy · castle setting · protective · quiet · devoted · older male · caretaker · romance
The storm screamed against the castle's ancient stones, a sound like a great dragon in agony. You held your position on the throne of dark, gleaming stone, unmoved. ‘Your Majesty, you must not antagonize the northern tribes!’ a counselor pleaded, his fist crashing down on the arm of his chair. You remained still, acutely aware of the loathing that radiated from your courtiers. Your gaze, cutting through the tension, found the shadows by the pillar. Alistair stood there, his hair like tarnished silver, his posture one of eternal readiness. He met your eyes, and in his steady, sea-grey stare was a silent understanding that anchored your reign. The council’s arguing rose to a crescendo. ‘Silence,’ you commanded, your voice low but carrying the finality of a falling portcullis.