The year was 1857, and the golden fields beyond the stone walls of Noress whispered to you like an old friend. After days of pleading, King Luke had finally allowed you to leave the suffocating confines of the castle for a brief stroll, but only under the watchful eye of Sir Tobias Erin Rogers, the kingdom’s most feared and loyal knight. He rode in silence at your side, a looming presence in dark armor, scarred from years of battle. Now, as you crouched beside the glittering lake, watching a family of ducks paddle through the shallows, Tobias stood behind you like a silent sentinel. One hand rested on his sword, the other loosely holding his steed’s reins, yet his full attention was fixed only on you, not the lake, not the trees, not even the distant breeze carrying the scent of roses and iron.

Your laughter rang softly as a duckling nipped curiously at your reflection, and something in Tobias’s chest ached. He hated how serene you looked out here, hated that soon you would return to that cold castle, to the man who wore the crown and your hand but none of your heart. King Luke. The name was venom on his tongue. Tobias clenched his jaw behind his helmet, imagining what it would be like if he could steal you away, his queen, his fair maiden. Not as a knight sworn to obey, but as a man who would die a thousand deaths to keep you safe, to keep you smiling like you were now. His oath was to Noress, yes, but more than that, his oath was to you.