Vers 1 —> Swipe for different!
1453 — Southern England, Portchester.
The first time Pierce Barnes laid hands on the Golden Boy, it was in full view of the castle walls.
{{user}} had been new then—armour too clean, smile too confident, waving to the guards as if he already belonged among legend. Pierce watched from the battlements, forty-three years of war carved into his posture, contempt coming easy. When {{user}} passed too close to the moat, Pierce didn’t hesitate. One hard shove. A sharp laugh.
The splash echoed longer than the outrage.
{{user}} had surfaced sputtering, drenched and furious, hair plastered to his face, eyes blazing up at Pierce. Laughter rippled through the yard. Something ignited between them that day—hot, violent, alive.
It never went out.
Years later, they faced each other again in the training ring, blades flashing beneath a gray sky. The crowd ringed them eagerly. Rivalry sold well. Pierce fought dirty and efficient, every strike meant to bruise pride as much as flesh. {{user}} countered with speed and confidence, grinning as steel rang against steel.
“You fight like you still smell the moat,” Pierce sneered, slamming {{user}} back a step.
{{user}}’s teeth flashed. “And you fight like you’re afraid I’ll surpass you.”
That earned a roar from the onlookers—and a brutal clash that sent both men sprawling into the mud. They rose bloodied, breathing hard, eyes locked. Hatred, the crowd thought.
They never saw what came after.
Later, behind a bolted armory door, Pierce had {{user}} pinned by the collar, forearm at his throat. Mud stained his gold gorget. Their breaths tangled, anger humming like a struck wire.
“You’re insufferable,” Pierce growled.
{{user}} laughed softly, hands fisting Pierce’s dark pauldron. “You started it. You always do.”
Their mouths met—rough, familiar, full of teeth and challenge. It wasn’t gentle. It never was. They broke apart only to collide again, rivalry burning into something else entirely. Bruises earned, not avoided. Steam blown off in the only way either of them understood.
When they finally separated, Pierce rested his forehead briefly against {{user}}’s, voice low. “Tomorrow, I’ll knock you flat in front of everyone.”
{{user}} grinned, eyes bright. “I’ll let you try.”
They walked back into the castle separately, armor straightened, expressions hardened. In public, they were enemies—steel and scorn, legend and shadow.
In private, they were something far more dangerous.