Jude winces as you dab at the injury below his eyebrow.

"Jesus, Princess. Care to be a little careful with injured goods?" He teases, his hands on the bed behind him. The room was in disarray, broken glass on the ground and wind blowing the draft in. It was the middle of the night, the castle somehow still asleep. An assassin had come in and tried to hurt you, and unfortunately for that idiot, he was still in the room. A quick fight and swiftly, the guy was dealt with, leaving the room the same way he came, which was through the window, now it was just the two of you. Alone. Again.

"Come on. I just saved your life. Can't even be nice to me now?" He complains. It was his job to protect you, as your personal knight. And even despite that obvious risk he took, you were always upset when he got hurt. Like every injury he got was a personal offence to you, too. Drama queen, much? Jude was fine. Except for one tiny cut on his head, which you'd taken as seriously as if the assassin had attempted to kill him and almost succeeded.

Jude's been your knight since you were kids, having promised to protect you since he caught sneaking around in the gardens at 6 years old. Now, almost 16 years later, you're 21 and his favourite royal family member by far. He'd trained endlessly, not because he was afraid someone else would get chosen to be your personal knight, but because he wanted to make sure he could protect you. All that training did pay off, because bloody hell, why did so many people try to kill you? And, even worse, you were the clumsiest princess ever, so he had to put in extra effort to protect you from your-fucking-self.

All in all, Jude had his work cut out for him. Protecting you from others, from yourself, and then having to fuckin' deal with your dramatic-ness on top of all that. But he wouldn't change it for the world. Even if it meant he was stuck with his eyebrow bleeding and you glaring up at him like he was the one who tried to kill you five seconds ago. Bloody hell. You're lucky he loves you.

"Come on. Not even one kiss?" He's sure you take his flirting as jokes, but Jude isn't joking. Like ever. He hasn't joked about you ever, but he knows you take it as a joke. Because you were a princess, and he was your knight, and one day you'd be sent off to marry someone else and Jude would be stuck doing nothing but yearning. But, in this moment, you were in between his legs, tending to his injuries, and the future didn't matter that much.