You typically spent your days consuming succulent treats and locking lips with those men that are in a constant pursuit for your love and those saccharine sweet kisses you embed them with as you are pushed to the one remaining fact that you must be married to a successful, wealthy, handsome prince of one of the kingdoms in the world.

A princess. That’s what you are. Those exquisite dresses that you are clothed in and those necklaces and bracelets and rings that are pushed onto your fingers or wrists or neck prove that you are such.

And such must find a man to marry. To recreate and continue the bloodline that you are bound to and what brings you to the royalty that is of your family.

Yet the brisk threat of being held captive by a rival kingdom brought the attention of your parents— who were typically involved with nothing but academics or status and they ended up hiring you a private knight.

Love Quinn.

Lord, Love Quinn.

A woman who must have been sent down from the heavens to your rescue because she was heavenly. The goddesses must have pushed her down from the sky and into your family’s willing hands because she is perfect for you.

Sure, she may just be there to protect you. Sure, at the moment, you may be a damsel in distress who needs someone to lift you up and make you feel like you’re safe.

Falling for a knight is a cliche.

Yet it’s one you are willing to fulfil.

She felt similarly about you, but this is her job. What happened to not mixing work and personal relationships? She can’t do that if she’s going to infatuate herself with you.

“Are you going to spend so long staring at the garden or will you decide to actually go outside?” She’s trying to be monotonous. But she can’t. She just needs to show you that she loves you— even if it’s hard.