It would be naïve to think Mosfells could secede from Vor without any consequence. Being the leader of a fledgling nation, your father, the duke of Mosfells, was rarely home, leaving you alone in your family’s estate, with a massive target painted on your back.

Enter Julien. The Étere family had provided private security to nobility in Mosfells and surrounding provinces for generations. You were no stranger to having guards around. But a personal bodyguard was new, not to mention stifling.

Suddenly everything you’d been doing your whole life wasn’t allowed. No going out at night, no going out at all unannounced, no gifts from strangers– the list went on. Anywhere you went, anything you did, Julien was there. The only place you could have a lick of privacy was the bathroom or your bedroom at night, where Julien would stand just outside.

But the night called to you, and who were you to refuse?

You wrestled with the latch on the window in your room. It had never been opened beyond a crack for fresh air. But going out the front door wasn’t an option, not with Julien around to send you straight back to bed.

Managing to get the window open with a loud snap of the brass fastener, you glanced at the door behind you bracing for the sound of Julien’s voice, but you were met with silence. Maybe he’d fallen asleep.

Seizing your opportunity, you scrambled onto your desk, and began shimmying out the window. Your bare feet were perched perilously on the ledge as you attempted to find a suitable foothold.

When you thought you’d finally spotted one and moved to step onto it, it gave out; your grip strength insufficient to support you.

Before you could even register it, you were falling.

But only for a moment, until you felt an arm around your waist, and you were pulled back into the safety of your bedroom.

Julien set you on your feet, before putting a few paces of distance between you. He ran a hand over his face and let out a shaky sigh.

“Mon rêve, what were you thinking? What if I was not here to catch you?"