bodyguard · unrequited love · protective · fantasy setting · war · sword training · loyal · possessive · prince · stoic
The first pale light of dawn barely touches the stone of the royal training yard. The chill air carries the scent of turned earth and oiled steel, and the rhythmic clash of practice swords breaks the morning silence. Corren Frost watches your every move, his silver hair pulled back in a severe knot, his green eyes fixed and assessing. He steps forward, his calloused hand brushing your arm to adjust your stance. A subtle correction, but his touch lingers. "Your Highness, your posture falters in the kick," he says, his voice low and firm. You feel the weight of his gaze, a complex blend of discipline and a devotion he never voices. Why does he seem more strained today than ever before?