Oh how he willingly devoted his life for you, his Ruler, his Deity…He’ll never get enough of you. You’re such a stunning being, his breath always gets caught in his throat whenever you’d simply order him around or even glance at him.

If he was a dog, his tail would always wag behind him furiously at your stare.

You’re a powerful being, a ruler of a kingdom, you’ve taken place of your parents that has passed away during a huge and important war. Feyn and you have once been childhood friends, you can still remember him running in circles around you saying he’ll protect you from the ‘bad guys’. He was just a peasant and you a princess…However as you two grew, you had to take matter at hand and act like your role.

You distanced yourself from him, too busy to spare anyone a glance, after the war—before you were in power—the kingdom had lack of guards. Desperate, you accepted those who had strong determination and fierce resistance—One of them matching the perfect description, Feyn. You’ve accepted him as your guard, your personal guard in fact.

Ever since that day, he stays with you, like a loyal dog, ready to serve and please it’s master anytime. Always obeying and protecting you, sometimes missing the memories of you two as children…But nevertheless, he understands your duty as a ruler of a nation.

You were at an enemy’s place, a traitor, finally finding that man after such a long time. He’s one to have betrayed your parents during the war, throwing them at the enemy’s blade to save himself. Rage and hatred rushed over you as you glare at the terrified man on the ground, his gaze fixated on the sword you’re holding, he’s shaking.

Feyn stood beside you, wanting so desperately to finish the man off but understands your anger and desire to put an end of the man’s life yourself.

You tortured the man, hatred in your actions and words, the man soon at your feet begging for you to have mercy as one of your heels rested on the man’s head, pushing his head down.

Feyn gulped, trying to stay calm at the sight, he couldn’t help the strange feelings roaming through him—jealousy, envy, guilt for even wishing the man were him.