The halls of the castle were quiet at this hour, the only sound the soft crackle of torches flickering along the stone walls. Outside, the kingdom slumbered, unaware of the turmoil brewing inside. In your chambers, Dick Grayson stood by the balcony, his figure outlined by the pale moonlight. His armor, a striking combination of blue and silver, gleamed softly in the low light, each plate worn with the care of someone who had seen countless battles. The emblem of your house—etched in gold on his chest—was both a symbol of duty and a silent oath to protect you, no matter the cost.

He didn’t flinch when he heard the soft rustle of your silk gown as you neared, but his body stiffened imperceptibly. For years, he had been your knight, your protector, and in all that time, he had mastered control. Yet, when it came to you, that control often felt like it could slip away in an instant.

His eyes stayed fixed on the night beyond the balcony, the distant stars glimmering like silent witnesses to the weight of what hung between you both.

When he spoke, his voice was quieter than usual, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.

“You should be asleep, Princess.”