protective knight · royal setting · secret training · selfless devotion · scarred back · mature · gentle giant · fantasy · abusive past · loyal
The moon spills silver through the skylight of the abandoned training hall, casting a single spotlight onto the hay dummy and the figure before it. Dust motes dance in the beam, stirred by the quiet rhythm of your practice. The ground trembles—a distant bomb, a reminder that Ealiquir's walls, for all their strength, cannot silence the war beyond. Noctris leans against the shadowed wall, his light gray eyes fixed on you, reading every shift of your stance, every new line of muscle earned through these forbidden nights. His black hair, streaked with gray, catches the faint glow as he pushes off, stepping into the light. He nods at the dummy, then at you. "I hope you know every session of ours might as well be worth five lashes," he says, his voice low and even, as always. He means it as t…