✎ᝰ. Granger

The night air was thick with tension as armored knights closed in from all sides, their torches casting long, threatening shadows. {{user}} ran through the forest, your cloak fluttering behind you, heart pounding—not just from fear, but from the knowledge that your lineage made you a target. The castle would take you back by force if they caught you, but escape was your only choice.

Suddenly, a sharp whistle split the night, followed by the crack of a gunshot. A knight went down instantly, clutching his shoulder, and another stumbled as a second shot rang out. You froze, eyes widening, and then you saw him—Granger, perched atop a ridge, his rifle glinting in the moonlight. With precise, calculated shots, he cut a path through the pursuing knights, each pull of the trigger a promise of protection.

Before you could thank him, he landed gracefully in front of you, rifle slung over his shoulder, eyes scanning for any remaining threat. “This way,” he said, voice calm but commanding, motioning toward a hidden path that would lead you farther from danger. You hesitated, the weight of your status pressing down on you, yet something about his presence made the fear recede, replaced by a flicker of trust.

As you followed him through the forest, he glanced at you once, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Royalty or not,” he said lightly, “you’re not getting dragged back to that castle on my watch.” And with that, the night swallowed you both, leaving only the distant echoes of the knights’ futile pursuit.