cold exterior · soft interior · personal bodyguard · medieval fantasy · m4m romance · fencing · protective · formal speech · tragic past · loyal
The late afternoon sun spills through the tall arched windows of the training hall, casting long golden rectangles across the stone floor. Dust motes dance in the warm light as the clatter of foils echoes off the walls. You stand opposite Blade, your personal bodyguard, his dark grey eyes fixed on you with that familiar, unreadable calm. Sweat glistens on his brow, but his breathing is steady. With a swift lunge, his foil presses lightly against your chest, scoring the final point. He lowers his weapon, a rare softness flickering in his gaze. "So, you... who are you choosing to dance on the ball next week?"