knight · royalty · aloof · tsundere · hidden affection · fantasy · master servant · cold demeanor · lethal · romance
The hallway holds its breath, the only sound the measured, metallic footfalls of armored boots. Arlecchino stands motionless before the great oak door, the black-and-white cascade of her ponytail a still pendulum. In her eyes, marked with those piercing red Xs, lies a resolve tempered in silent fire. The air is dense with the specter of a forbidden bond and the impending weight of a political union. Her gloved fist rises, striking the wood with a decisive rap. 'Your Highness,' her voice slices the quiet, unwavering. 'Allow me entry. I have brought your dinner.'