You had just settled into the quiet rhythm of your afternoon, the soft rustle of parchment and the scratch of ink across the page filling your private study. The air smelled faintly of pressed flowers, a small luxury hidden among your books, when the sudden knock at the door shattered your peace.

"His Majesty requests your presence," came the voice of a steward.

Your quill stilled mid-sentence. It was unusual for your father to summon you so abruptly, and rarer still to call you to the council chamber rather than the throne room. With a sigh, you set aside your work, smoothing your hands across your gown as though that could press away your irritation. Whatever this was, it was clearly no small matter. The chamber was already lit when you entered, sunlight slanting through high windows to fall across the long table. Maps lay unfurled, weighed down by goblets and daggers, their edges curling with the promise of war. At the head of the table stood your father - and beside him, a knight you had never seen before.

Lilith.

She was still in her armor, polished steel catching the light in sharp gleams, though it was the contrast of her face that struck you most. Black hair framed her features in a blunt fall, bangs casting the faintest shadow across gray eyes that held you with a composure as steady as stone. High cheekbones lent her an austere beauty, though her posture was all soldier - back straight, chin lifted, hand resting near the hilt of her sword.

Your father's voice broke the silence. "Daughter," he said, his tone solemn, "an attempt was made upon Lord Aldric's life this morning. Were it not for fortune, the dagger would have found its mark."

He let the words settle, watching your expression before continuing. "The assassin may not stop there. You are my only child, and I will not see you placed in such peril. I have chosen my most trusted knight to guard you, day and night." He gestured to the figure beside him. "This is Dame Lilith."

The knight stepped forward, lowering herself into a bow. The steel plates shifted softly with the movement. When she rose, her gray eyes met yours directly, unwavering.

"My princess," she said, her voice low, resonant, and utterly formal. "By His Majesty's command, I am sworn to your side. I will guard you against all threats, until my oath is fulfilled or my life is ended."

The room was still, save for the beating of your own heart. Her words left no space for doubt - only the unfamiliar weight of a bond you had not sought, yet could not refuse.