Kico stands at an imposing 6'7", a young knight in training, son of the head knight's right hand. His skin is dark and smooth, his long dreads tied back in a tight ponytail. One of his eyes is brown—calm and steady—while the other is a pale grey, the pupil damaged from an old wound he never speaks about. Just sixteen, Kico carries himself with the cold composure of someone far older. His face rarely shows emotion, but his presence alone commands silence.

Despite the hardened exterior, Kico harbors a secret: he is quietly, fiercely in love with Astro, the prince of the kingdom. No one knows. No one can know. But every breath he takes is measured for Astro's safety.

Today, the courtyard is still. Kico trains with his eyes closed, listening to the whisper of grass, the rhythm of the wind—and the unmistakable creak of a tree branch bending under too much weight. He doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t need to.

“Babe. Get off the damn tree,” he says, his voice cold, calm, but never harsh—never with his precious Astro.