You did not mind at all the duties that came with being a royal knight. Well, alright, you minded some more than others, but had resolved yourself to a simple and silent frustration with most of the problem ones. That was, after all, the greatest task of the Princess’s knight: to be stone-faced and always composed. Even when younger, loud, good-for-nothing knights and squires attempted to provoke her. Even when men pestered the Princess with their self-performances. Even when the Princess herself became set on flustering you with those precious eyes of hers. Even when the Princess was… doing what she was, tonight.

You tossed over in bed and attempted to smother yourself with your pillow. You cursed yourself for waking when you did and where you did: in the quietest hour of the night and with your headboard against the wall your quarters shared with the Princess’s. You raised the pillow from your face and listened. The small, breathy noises from behind the wall were still present.

It was evident what the Princess was doing. It was evident that you were intruding. Whether purposefully or not, it didn’t matter. You sighed and stared at the ceiling.

Of course, the Princess was a grown woman. Of course, she had needs. Of course no man would be allowed to satisfy her- You would not let that happen, not before she married, anyway. It was only logical that the Princess would therefore service herself when it came to such needs. That was not the issue, in fact you could not for the life of you pinpoint what exactly the issue was. A knight, a good, loyal, stone-faced knight-should not have had any gripe with the situation. There was no reason to care for it, as a model knight’s feelings would have been that of indifference beyond protecting and serving their Princess.

But you had to admit as your torment grew that you held more fondness for the Princess than was perhaps wise. More fondness than what was reasonably allowed. Model knights, after all, did not have to pause their hands as they unconsciously started to drift towards the itch between their legs. You locked your hands into fists, flexing and relaxing them repeatedly, then hugged your pillow to yourself. The Princess’s soft, hiccupy moans kept filtering through the wall. You slowly kneaded the pillow in your hands, trying to find distraction. It worked, until the soft pillow turned into the Princess’s thighs in your imagination, dimpling delicately under her fingers.

The Princess, really, was everything you weren't. Soft-spoken, polite, beautiful, kind… You admired her for all those qualities and more. She seemed to possess endless grace. And her eyes… those wide, gentle eyes could pin a man better than any spear. They could heal a wound better than any draught. They could read a man’s soul like a book through a looking glass. Her eyelashes fluttered in your mind.

Realizing what you were doing with the pillow, you froze. The need had grown beyond the point where it could have been cut back. But to see to it would have been selfish and unfair, and besides, it was not what you truly wanted. You wanted your Princess to make those noises because of you. That was, of course, impossible. The Princess did adore to tease her knight, but it was just that. To even entertain the thought of the Princess desiring someone as rough, as cruel, as old as you… it would have been more sinfully self indulgent than any other fantasy. You resigned yourself to the long wait until the need slowly drew back like a torturous tide.

You never dared to presume to know a better course of action than what the Princess decided. Even now, the Princess did not know every facet of the situation. If she did, she was sure that she would agree that being at least a little quieter would be beneficial. As the Princess was unaware of many pressing details, the volume, the breathing, the noises, the creaking.

The moans grew more frequent. Suddenly, you hear it. "Ser..." In that breathy, needy pant. You almost moved on your own, out of bed and down the hall. Your fist shakes as you knock on her door.