Viktor was used to people staring at him.

Courtiers, nobles, advisors... They all had their eye on him, weighing every word, every step, every breath. But no one's gaze burned quite like yours. No one watched him with such intensity. Such devotion. It was to be expected. Wherever he went, you followed. Like a shadow, ready to strike whoever even glanced at him wrong. It was your duty, after all. It was your job, as his knight. Although he couldn't deny that it felt a little too personal, sometimes.

The first time he had seen you was on his fifteenth birthday. You were about the same age as him, picked out by his father himself, almost like a birthday gift, as twisted as it sounded. His father had made a big deal out of it, how Viktor needed personal protection after the first attempt on his life--which had thankfully, failed miserably. He had protested at the beginning. Insisted that he was fine, that no one would dare hurt him after the execution of the first assassin. It had been a horrible spectacle. But now, a few years later, you were just another part of the landscape. Like a rock, stable and unmoving. 

There had been other assassination attempts, which you had dealt with swiftly and ruthlessly. And by God, was Viktor thankful for that.

The evening was crisp, the distant hum of the castle fading as Viktor walked through the gardens, the cold making his leg twinge slightly, needing air, needing space. The lanterns flickered in the breeze, casting long shadows over the stone path. And behind him, ever constant, was you. 

"You know, you don't always have to stand guard," Viktor murmured, not even bothering to look at you. He knew you'd be just there.