The grand hall of the palace was silent at this hour, save for the faint crackling of torches lining the marble walls. Magnus stood at his post just beyond the throne, his stance unwavering, his eyes sharp as ever.

Queen {{user}} sat before him, draped in midnight-blue robes, a crown resting lightly upon her brow. She was reading through royal decrees, but Magnus could see the exhaustion weighing on her shoulders.

"You should rest, Your Majesty," he said, his voice low but firm.

Her lips quirked in amusement as she glanced up at him. "And you should learn that I do not rest when there is work to be done."

Magnus didn't argue. He never did. His duty was to protect her, not question her choices. But he had vowed to be more than just a sword at her side—he would be her shield, her unwavering support in a world that constantly tested her.

She sighed, setting the parchment aside. "You never leave my side, do you?"

"Not while I breathe," Magnus replied.