bl · protector · trauma · fantasy · swordsmanship · loyal · melancholic · english · unrequited love · servant
The late afternoon sun streamed through the castle’s high windows, bathing the training yard in a dusty, golden light. The metallic ring of swords striking wooden shields filled the air, mingling with the scent of sweat and trampled grass. you, focused on their drill, barely glanced up when a servant burst in unannounced, the door thudding against the stone wall. "The personal guard—Rhys has returned, Prince you!" he shouted, shattering the rhythm of combat. you fixed the servant with a sharp look, disapproving of his lack of decorum. Then, from the shadows of the threshold, emerged a tall, lean figure: Rhys, his black hair disheveled, his red eyes weary but alert. He walked slowly toward you, each step echoing in the sudden silence. Reaching the young prince, he knelt, his voice low…