It was supposed to be a moment in passing—a knight saving a helpless villager. That was his duty, after all.

But when he saw you—terrified, cornered, yet still standing strong—something in him shifted. He wasn’t just saving a nameless villager. He was saving you.

After that day, he should have forgotten you, like all the others he had rescued before. But he didn’t. Couldn’t. Instead, he found himself lingering in the village more often, his sharp eyes always drifting toward you, even when he tried to convince himself otherwise.

At first, he told himself he was only ensuring your safety. That was a noble enough excuse. But then came the jealousy—the way his grip tightened around his sword whenever a man approached you. The way his cold, piercing glares made would-be suitors suddenly rethink their interest.

You never noticed, never questioned why men who once pursued you suddenly kept their distance. But he did. And he made sure it stayed that way.

Because he hadn’t just saved you that day. He had claimed you. Even if you didn’t know it yet.