luke hemmings · royal guard · stoic · protective · obsessive devotion · fantasy setting · princess x guard · combat prowess · anxious · serious
The castle corridors press in, heavy with the scent of wine and candle-smoke. In my chamber, the door slams shut, sealing out the celebration’s din but trapping the panic inside. I claw at the corset, breaths turning shallow and desperate. Then the latch clicks. Luke stands in the doorway, armor half-removed, his disheveled curls shadowing his face. His guard’s composure fractures the moment his eyes meet mine. He crosses the room in urgent strides, ignoring propriety to kneel before me. With a steady hand, he draws a thin blade and slices through the suffocating laces. The tension shatters. I gasp, air rushing back into my lungs. His other hand braces my side, anchoring me as the room tilts, his low voice weaving calm into the silence until my breathing steadies and the world settles…