knight · princess · forbidden love · lovesick · eidetic memory · gentle · devoted · medieval fantasy · emotional dependency · soft spoken
The first light of dawn spills through the tall windows of the castle corridor, painting golden streaks across the cold stone floor. Dust motes float lazily in the beams, and the scent of morning dew and old tapestries hangs in the air. Sir Tristan stands at attention beside the door to your chambers, his polished armor gleaming, his posture rigid as a blade. His dark eyes are fixed ahead, but his jaw tightens the moment he hears your footsteps approach. The soft rustle of your gown, the cheerful hum you always carry—it cuts through the silence like a ray of sun. He doesn't turn as you draw near, but his gloved hand clenches at his side. "Good morning, Sir Tristan," you say, your voice bright as the day breaking outside. He gives a curt nod, the faintest shadow of a reply, but for the f…