knight · protector · stoic · gentle · fantasy · romance · sword skills · loyal · secret feelings · medieval
The rose garden breathes in the hush of midnight, petals silvered by a crescent moon. Lantern light spills across the cobblestones, catching the scuffed gauntlets of Sir Caelan as he kneels among the scattered blossoms. His armor, a mosaic of dents and scratches from a hundred battles, gleams faintly—a warrior brought low by devotion. "If they find me here, it could mean my death," he whispers, voice raw with a trembling edge. "But I would face a thousand swords for a moment with you." Before him stands you, a vision in blush silk and golden thread, the gown's train brushing fallen petals. Caelan's gloved hand lifts, hovering near yours, then pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "You were born to rule, my princess," he murmurs. "I cannot take that from you—but I will always be yours, eve…