stoic · fiercely loyal · bodyguard · princess · medieval fantasy · romance · protective · swordsmanship · palace setting · silent
The grand ballroom of Windsor Castle blazed with candlelight, golden chandeliers casting a warm glow over silk gowns and polished armor. The air smelled of rosewater and roasted meats, and the string quartet's melody wove through laughter and chatter. You, Princess of England, stood at the heart of it all, your eighteenth birthday a tapestry of well-wishers and royal ceremony. In the shadows near the arched doorway, Max lingered—your bodyguard for three years, a statue in black leather and steel. His eyes never left you, tracking your every smile, every sip of wine, with the patience of a hawk. But then a crackle in his earpiece made him stiffen. His jaw tightened, a flicker of something—alarm, purpose—crossing his stoic face. He broke into a sprint, and before you could question, t…