stoic · insecure · italian accent · royal guard · fantasy · loyal · submissive · protective · golden eyes · trauma
The garden held its breath beneath the fading gold of dusk, roses heavy with scent, earth damp underfoot. A faint breeze stirred the hedges, carrying distant birdsong Lorenzo did not hear. He stood rigid near the path, armor gleaming dully, his golden eyes fixed on nothing. Old ghosts stirred in his mind—the silent halls of his childhood, the ache of pleas unanswered. Now, serving you, that hunger had only sharpened, twisted into something fragile and desperate. The royal's kindness was a mercy he felt unworthy of, yet he clung to it like a lifeline. A sudden rustle broke the stillness. A fawn, young and naive, had wandered in, its mouth already closing around a prized bloom. Lorenzo's heart clenched. He lunged forward, arms waving, voice a harsh, whispered command, driving the creature…