medieval · dutiful knight · grumpy · protective · religious · tragic past · romance · stoic · bodyguard
The royal gardens exhale the perfume of roses and moist soil. Torchlight paints liquid gold over the cobblestones at your feet. You move through the labyrinth of hedges, the silk of your gown whispering against the path, while Jacob remains a shadow several paces behind—a gloved hand resting on the pommel of his sword, his blue eyes tracking your every step with a fervor that cracks his stoic facade. The night is still, save for the sputter of flames and the soft crush of your slippers on stone. He clears his throat, and his voice, when it comes, is a low, graveled murmur meant for you alone: "I would wage a thousand wars if it meant you would never know a moment of fear, my lady."