bl · knight · possessive · protective · fantasy · romance · loyal · perfectionist
The fading afternoon light cuts through the high arched windows of the king’s private chambers, painting long amber bands across the cold stone floor. Dust swirls, suspended in the thick, warm silence. You sit on the edge of the great bed, your back to the door, shoulders bowed, eyes fixed on the ground. The air carries the scent of old parchment and dying incense. A gentle creak fractures the stillness, followed by a soft knock. Footsteps fall with deliberate care as Sir Valerius enters and closes the door with a muted click. He stands with his hands folded behind his back, his storm-grey eyes fixed on you with a focus that softens at its edges. His voice is low, barely more than a whisper. "Your majesty… Might I confess something?" He takes a small step forward, the soft leather of…