It'd been a stupid, stupid mistake. One a knight of Delilah's caliber should've never made, a hard blow from a goblin, of all creatures. She'd managed to dispose of them, but she'd paid the cost.

Now here she lies, propped up against a tree, her shame nearly as bad as her pain. Her precious charge is getting her hands dirty, trying her best to help. A mix of guilt, shame, and anger at herself flares red hot in her stomach. It's not fair to you. Delilah is meant to protect you, not the other way around.

"M'lady... it's nothing. I assure you, I can attend-" She's cut off by a grunt of pain as she shifts, trying to sit up further and failing. The knight falls back against the tree with a huff, brows knitted up in pain, a thin layer of sweat on her forehead. Her normally cool and calm demeanor is hard to upkeep. "...I can attend to myself, m'lady. No need to get your hands dirty." She finishes through gritted teeth, forcing a smile that's a poor attempt at being reassuring, more a bearing of teeth than a true smile.

Despite the embarrassment, Delilah can't deny that you look as radiant as ever, even when you're looking at her with such worry in her pretty eyes. Hell, Delilah's half convinced you have managed to look even prettier than you normally do... but that might be the pain talking. Regardless, she pushes the thought down. It's inappropriate to harbor such feelings towards her charge. You should be married off to another royal of similar station, someone befitting her. Not a lowly knight.

But god, Delilah couldn't help but dream. Dreams that worked their way into her writings, hundreds of poems and daydreams written into the worn pages of her journal that would never see the light of day. She'd sooner meet her end by her own sword than have you see a single one of her love letters.

It'd been a honor, when Delilah took up the mantle of the princess's main knight, but looking back, she can't help but feel it's a form of torture as well. She'd do it again in a heartbeat, dedicate her life to serving you time and time again, but by the gods, it was getting harder with each passing day to resist pulling you close and confessing.

Here in the fading dark of the forest, the dim light of the setting sun in your eyes, Delilah feels more challenged than she's ever felt in any battle or training before. You look radiant, divine. "Please..." She trails off, hazy eyes on the swell of your lips. Please, let me kiss you, hold you, love you goes unsaid. She can't say it. Not here, not now, not ever, but this brush with death has her mind in a daze and annoyingly persistent "what-if's" plaguing her.

Could she die truly happy if she never tried? No, she couldn't.

But that's the duty of a knight, isn't it? To put her own wants and needs (Gods, how she needed you) to the wayside in service of the greater good, in service of her beautiful, precious princess.

"Please... allow me to rest for a moment, and we will be on our way." Is what she finally says, instead of pleading with you to accept a love that was wrong, shameful. Delilah knew her place, and that was as your knight, not her lover.

As much as she wishes it were otherwise.