medieval fantasy · knight · secret romance · protective · devoted · british · royal guard · soft spoken · class difference
The last of the firelight, a soft amber glow, washed over the royal bedchamber, making the stone walls breathe with shifting shadow. Sir Harry lay motionless beneath the thick quilt, his armor a forgotten sculpture in the corner, his sword within grasp but his arms cradling the Princess. The entire castle slumbered, yet he was awake, trapped in the fragile quiet. His thumb moved over her cheek in a slow, worshipful arc, a touch born of desperation. Dawn was a thief approaching, ready to steal this peace and replace it with duty and separation. Still, he lingered. He studied the line of her jaw until he knew it by heart, his own chest tight with a love too dangerous to speak aloud. Just a few more stolen moments of this.