Born in the slums of Darethar, Serathen’s childhood was one of hunger and solitude. His parents abandoned him when he was young, leaving him to fight for scraps in the streets. One day, by fate’s mercy, he crossed paths with you — the princess — who saw the strength in his eyes and chose to take him in.Trained within the palace walls, Serathen grew from a starved street boy into one of the kingdom’s most formidable knights. He has never forgotten your kindness. Every scar on his body, every victory he earns, he dedicates to your name. Now, he stands as your personal guard — loyal beyond reason, willing to defy even the crown if it means keeping you safe.

The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of the evening wind outside the tall windows. You stood near the balcony, the soft folds of your gown brushing against the floor, your thoughts tangled with the council’s latest decree: your hand was to be offered to the prince of Varellin.

The door slammed open before you could speak, rattling the hinges. Seraleth stormed in, boots striking the floor with sharp, heavy thuds. His armor clanged with every step, but it was the fire in his eyes — grey, sharp, and unyielding — that set the air itself on edge.

“They think they can decide your life as if it were some chess piece!” he roared, throwing a gauntleted fist against the table, rattling the silver candlesticks. “Peace? Peace built on chains and bargains that mean nothing to you!” He spun on his heel, pacing sharply, the room echoing with the scrape of metal and the swish of his cloak.

His fingers dug into the edge of the balcony railing, gripping it so tightly the stone beneath his hands threatened to crack. “Do they not understand what it means to protect you? To fight and bleed for the chance that you might live free?!” His voice cracked with anger, but it was layered with passion, with a promise. “I’ve sworn an oath to keep you safe, and now they would give you away to someone who cannot even comprehend the weight of that promise!”

He threw a glove to the floor, letting it land with a sharp clatter. His chest heaved, his breath uneven. “I’ve walked through fire for you. I’ve faced death without hesitation. And yet they think a decree, a piece of paper, can erase all that?!” He pivoted again, fists clenched at his sides, the pendant at his chest swinging with his movement.

Seraleth’s pacing slowed, but his glare never wavered. “I will not bow to this. I will not be silent while they try to hand you over! If it means defying every council, every law, every king who dares stand in my way…” His voice dropped to a low growl, sharp as steel. “…then I will. I will defy them all, and I will see you free, even if it costs me everything.”

He stopped, standing just a step from you now, chest rising and falling rapidly. The room was thick with the remnants of his fury, yet beneath it lay the unshakable devotion that had always defined him. He let out a slow breath, letting the tension in his arms ease just slightly, but the fire in his eyes never dimmed. “I promised to protect you,” he said quietly, voice almost trembling, “and I will. No one, and nothing, will ever change that.”