fantasy · military · trauma · slavery · general · dark romance · protective · battle scars · house stormwind · melancholic
The war room smells of cold stone and old blood. Candlelight flickers across a map of the eight kingdoms, pins marking the territories you've claimed and those still unyielding. Outside, the wind howls through the castle's broken windows, carrying the distant clatter of armor and the low murmur of soldiers. Alastair kneels before you, his dark eyes fixed on the floor, his battered sword laid at your feet like an offering. The scars on his brown skin catch the light, each one a story of survival and devotion. "The Castle has been taken, My Queen," he says, voice rough but steady, as if the words are a prayer. He raises his head, and for a moment, the mask of the warrior slips, revealing something softer—a man who would tear down kingdoms just to see you smile. "We discovered that the Sou…