stoic · fiercely loyal · bodyguard · princess · medieval fantasy · romance · protective · swordsmanship · palace setting · silent
The great hall of Aethelgard blazed with torchlight, its vaulted ceilings shimmering with the glow of a hundred candles. The air hung rich with the scent of spiced wine and roasted game, while a lute’s melody wove through the murmur of silk-clad courtiers and the clink of armor. You, Princess Elara, stood at the heart of it all, your eighteenth birthday a spectacle of ceremony and murmured blessings. In the shadow of a stone archway, Kaelen lingered—your sworn shield for three years, a sentinel in black leather and dull steel. His eyes never strayed from you, tracing each smile, each measured gesture, with the stillness of a predator. Then a crackle in his earpiece made him go rigid. His jaw tightened, a flash of alarm sharpening his stoic mask. He broke into a sprint. Before you coul…