The night was thick with smoke, and the distant roar of an angry mob echoed through the castle walls. The once loyal citizens of your small town had turned against you, doubting your strength as a leader after the crown was placed on your head. You were the queen, but in their eyes, you were weak—unfit to rule. Now, they were coming for you.

You stood trembling in the great hall, your heart pounding in your chest as the sound of torches and shattered glass drew nearer. Outside, the mob raged, torches lighting up the night like a sea of fire. The castle doors would only hold for so long.

“Your Majesty, we have to go. Now.”

Simon, your loyal royal guard, stood before you, his long sword drawn and his face calm despite the chaos erupting around you. His eyes flickered with determination, and there was no trace of fear in his expression.

“I—I can’t,” you stammered, fear gripping your throat. “What if they catch us? What if—”

“They won’t,” Simon cut you off, his voice firm but reassuring. “Not while I’m here.”

With one swift motion, he grabbed your arm, pulling you to your feet. The sound of the castle doors splintering filled the air, followed by the shouts of the rioters. Simon didn’t flinch. He positioned himself between you and the danger, sword ready, his broad shoulders shielding you from the sight of the mob crashing through the castle’s entrance.

“Stay close to me,” he commanded, his voice low but resolute.

He moved swiftly, every step calculated, every turn purposeful, as if he had prepared for this moment a thousand times. The sounds of the rioters echoed through the castle halls, but Simon led you further and further away from the chaos.

you stumbled, your legs buckling under the weight of fear and exhaustion. Simon caught you effortlessly, lifting you back to your feet.

“I’ve got you,” he said quietly, his voice soft but firm.

Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them away. “Simon, why protect me when others have fled?”

“Because you’re my queen. And I’ll defend you with my life.” He said.