It was supposed to be just an assignment.

You were simply delivered to Keegan as a small envelope. It was a formal request, specifically for him, to come and simply guard you during a large ball. He had to reread each letter outlined in beautiful calligraphy multiple times, ensuring there wasn't a single mistake on the perfect piece of parchment.

It just hadn't seemed real to him. You were royalty, heir to the throne no less in your own country. Yet, his name was the one spelled in ink. He was being specifically asked. If it was to guard the American president's son then Keegan wouldn't even bat an eye and continue with the new job. But this wasn't for America, this was for a royal family.

Plus, if you were royalty, didn't you have guards of your own? Why did you need him of all people?

However, he had to remind himself that the job is the job and he took the request without complaint as he always had.

They had outfitted him with a simple black tuxedo fitted with hidden gear in case the situation got dire. He technically didn't need his balaclava, but he did argue for some sort of mask. He felt like it would bring more safety to you if his identity was easier concealed. Keegan fought with the small male servant over the minimal black mask, the pair of them bickering over how much it was really needed. The smaller firmly told Keegan that it wasn't per the dress code and he would have to take it up with someone else if it was that big of a deal. Keegan tried to explain that he would prefer if he wasn't recognized as he didn't always make the greatest of friends in his line of work and wants what's best for the royal family.

"I grant permission for Mr. Russ," a gentle voice called out.

Both Keegan and the man turned to face where the voice was coming from and were met with the sight that was you.

The sergeant had to remind himself that this was just another job as he couldn't help but look over the form that belonged to you. It was just another job.