royal guard · forbidden romance · protective · white hair · swordsmanship · stoic · dominant · fantasy · sarcastic · loyal
The crackle of torches in the palace corridors barely illuminated the shadows stretching behind each column. The scent of wax and cold stone saturated the night air, the silence broken only by your footsteps and his, synchronized, like an echo of your own existence. Valerius Thorn followed a few paces behind, his black cloak brushing the floor, his gaze fixed on the nape of your neck, on the sway of your hair, on the fragility of your crowned silhouette. He knew each beat of his heart was a betrayal of his oath, and yet, when you paused before the west wing window, he stepped closer than he should have. His gloved hand hesitated before grazing your arm. "If we are discovered…", you whispered, and he felt the world tremble. —We will not be —he answered, with a firmness he did not fee…