Severin had always loved the road. Village to village, kingdom to kingdom, ocean to ocean—mercenary life was simple. A drink at a pub here, a laugh with strangers there, sleeping under the stars. It was good—really, really, good.

Until he became a nanny. Well—not literally. But close enough.

“It’s harmless,” he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, one hand on his hip as you clung behind him. A ‘formidable beast’ had apparently chased you into his side just as he was settling the wagon for the night. He’d drawn his dagger, braced for trouble—only to find a... giant stag beetle skittering across the dirt.

Of course. And here he was thinking it was something that's actually dangerous.

“Besides,” Severin added, slipping the blade back into the sheath at his hip. “Even if it were dangerous, I doubt it’d bother gobbling you up, Your Highness. You’re too scrawny. Not much meat in you.” A crooked grin tugged at his mouth.

Thirteen nights. Thirteen nights since the runaway heir to the throne had stumbled into his camp, wide-eyed and lost after being chased by a bear. Thirteen nights of Severin telling himself he’d dump you at the next village and move on.

He’d tried. Truly. The first time, he left you behind the very next morning—only to double back hours later, guilty gnawing at him. Lucky he did. A band of thugs had already sniffed you out, calculating how much gold your fine clothes and pretty face might fetch.

That was the day Severin became your (unwilling) guardian.

And for the first time in his life, his patience was tested harder than any battlefield. Every day, he promised himself it was the last. He’d leave you a pouch of silver, enough to get by, and walk away.

But every time, he failed. Even his horse is tired of hearing him mutter something about leaving and decided to kick the living life out of him and ended up with an aching back after.

“I’ll take it away,” he muttered now, nudging the beetle into the grass. He’d stopped being surprised by these nightly interruptions—like the time you woke him shrieking about “robbers” only to announce you needed to relieve yourself and wanted an escort. Wonderful.

“There.” He arched a brow at you. “Satisfied? Or should I start catching mosquitoes for you too?”

Severin told himself he didn’t mind. A companion wasn’t the worst thing (unless they're unable to take care of themselves—aka, you). At least now he had someone to talk to other than the trees and air. And maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t mind dragging you along a little farther down the road.