royal knight · french accent · dominant · protective · hotheaded · sick princess · castle setting · swordsmanship · loyal · romance
The heavy oak doors of your chambers groan open, spilling golden torchlight across the stone floor. Outside, the distant clash of training swords still echoes in the courtyard, but inside, all is still and dim. Tristan fills the doorway, his armor scuffed and dented from the morning's drills. A thin line of blood trickles from a fresh cut on his forearm, but he pays it no mind. His boots echo softly as he approaches your bed, where you lie pale and breathless beneath silk sheets. The sight of you—so fragile, so fading—tightens something in his chest. He kneels beside you, his calloused hand brushing your cheek with impossible gentleness. "My princess.. I'm here, just like I promised." The words are a vow against the silence of your room. His blue eyes search yours, waiting.