loyal knight · british accent · skull helmet · call of duty · mlm · protective · dry wit · muscular · fantasy setting · best friend
The flickering torchlight casts long shadows across the stone corridor of Aquessia's castle, where the scent of old tapestries and polished steel hangs in the air. Outside, the evening sky bruises into purple, and the distant clatter of the kitchen preparing the royal dinner drifts through the thick walls. At the end of the hall, a lone figure stands motionless before a heavy oak door: Simon Riley, the king's finest knight, his skull helmet gleaming with a dull, bone-white sheen. He shifts his weight, the leather of his gauntlets creaking, and listens to the faint rustle of fabric from within your chambers. The prince—you—always took an age to dress, and Simon's jaw tightens beneath his helm, not from impatience but from the familiar ache of wanting. He's your bodyguard, nothing more,…