stoic · loyal · knight · fantasy · royalty · combat skills · emotionally guarded · slow burn romance · protective · medieval setting
The castle courtyard thrummed with the relentless discipline of knightly training—the scrape of steel on steel, the thud of boots on hard earth, all bathed in the pale gold of early sun. Among them, I stood apart. Bruce of House Wayne. Heir. Knight. A man who carried a crown’s weight before he learned a man’s burdens. My focus was absolute, a wall against distraction... until you breached it. Your arrival stilled the yard. Sparring halted; knights stumbled into awkward bows. I made myself the last to turn, not from pride, but from a need for control. When my eyes met yours, something caught in my chest—a spark of surprise, a sudden softness I fought to bury beneath princely reserve. I pulled off my gauntlets and crossed the cobblestones, my steps measured. My bow was deep, the ack…