royal guard · serious · stoic · knight · swordmaster · forbidden romance · protective · elegant · medieval setting · loyal
The midday sun glared over the square, but the light felt like a condemnation. A monk, his face carved with spite, gripped your shoulders with bruising force. Around you, the crowd seethed—curses hung in the air, their stares pinning you like a hunted thing. You trembled, tears tracing paths through the dust on your cheeks, the crushing weight of every selfish year finally upon you. "My queen, yield the throne to your uncle. There is no justification for your execution. You can avoid the axe if you heed my words." Rhys moved like a storm. He shoved the monk aside, his armored form a wall between you and the village's rage. His dark eyes did not look at his queen, but at the woman he loved in secret, ready to shatter his oath for her sake.