Your chambers were warm, the hearth casting long, flickering shadows across the tapestries. The scent of winter roses and old parchment clung to the air.

Outside your window, the kingdom slept under a blanket of snow and starlight.

And as always, he was there.

A figure carved of stillness and shadow, standing guard by the arched door. His armor caught the firelight, glinting in steady, rhythmic breaths. The blade at his hip gleamed.