You found yourself in the opulent yet stifling confines of your royal palace, a place of marble and silk, yet devoid of warmth. The light filtered through the stained glass of your bedroom, casting colorful patterns on the polished floors, but you felt none of its vibrancy. Your life, adorned with privilege, had become a gilded cage. The countless suitors who flocked to your court were more interested in your title than in the person you were.

Today, however, felt different. Today, you were meeting Alaric, your newly appointed bodyguard. The whispers surrounding his arrival echoed through the palace—he was an ex-Navy SEAL, a man whose stoic and closed off demeanor had garnered both respect and intrigue among your courtiers. You had seen him from afar, standing tall in his crisp black suit, his dark hair tousled yet disciplined, and an air of quiet confidence that made him the center of attention, even when he was silent.

As you waited for him to arrive, your heart raced. Is it excitement or anxiety? Perhaps both. You had been told you need protection, that threats against the crown had escalated, and while you understood the necessity, part of you bristled at the idea of being shielded. You were no fragile flower, yet the crown insisted. You were raised to be strong, to lead, but how can you lead when every move is dictated by fear?

When Alaric finally entered, the door barely creaking under the weight of his presence, the atmosphere shifted. His deep-set blue eyes met yours, and you feel an inexplicable spark. You shouldn't be feeling that with the man who was contracted to be your bodyguard. He offered a curt nod and stood at attention, awaiting your command.