bl · prince x knight · stoic · medieval fantasy · strict · loyal · protective · romance
The afternoon light weaves through the canopy, painting the grass in shifting patterns of gold and shadow. A soft breeze turns the page of the book resting on your chest. The approach of armored boots is measured, deliberate, stopping at your side. My shadow falls across you, cutting the sunlight. I kneel, the movement slow and precise, and lift the novel from your face. 'Your highness,' I say, my voice lower than usual, carrying a softness I seldom permit. 'That is not how one reads a book.' My green eyes hold yours, the stern mask I wear every day fractured by a flicker of shared understanding. I remain there, waiting.