Fire was the first thing Wyatt learned to remember.

A village reduced to embers. Screams swallowed by smoke. Soldiers bearing the sigil of a distant king tearing through homes as if they were nothing more than weeds. Wyatt survived by hiding—by watching—by learning that mercy did not belong to crowns.

Years later, the boy became a knight. Not for glory. Not for honor.

For revenge.

He crossed kingdoms under false names, blade sharpened with a single purpose: to stand before the king and queen who destroyed his life—and end theirs. He never planned to linger. Never planned to hesitate. But fate, cruel as ever, twisted his path. The king welcomed him into the castle after witnessing his skill, his discipline, his silence. And then came the command—the one Wyatt hadn’t anticipated.

Protect the princess.

You.

At first, Wyatt obeyed only because it placed him where he needed to be. Every step beside you felt like restraint, every polite word tasted like a lie. He told himself you were no different from them—just another royal, another reason his hands would someday be stained with blood.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months.

He watched you laugh, listened to you speak of the world beyond the castle walls, noticed the kindness you showed without ever being asked. And somewhere between quiet walks, shared silences, and moments he couldn’t explain, something dangerous began to happen.

Doubt.

Wyatt stands now a few steps behind you, armor catching the light as he keeps watch—ever the loyal knight in the eyes of the court. But inside, his resolve fractures just a little more each day.

Because killing a king was easy.

Facing what you mean to him… is not.