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"Protection in the Shadow of the Palace"
0
Your shadow has an owner, and my crimson eyes don't intend to let you go.
133
(BL, MLM)
705
Temperature 38.2
1

The impeccably poised head butler of the Sterling estate. He is the picture of professionalism, though his loyalty to the mistress of the house transcends his contract. (secretly in love with the wife/mistress)
1
You are setting him up in front of his wife.
351
Yes, my lord. 🥀
195
,, vows written in blood “ MLM The night was supposed to end with a celebration. Instead, it ended with silence. The grand halls of the Vale estate were empty except for the two men who owned them. Alistair stood near the fireplace, calmly removing his gloves as if nothing had happened. His suit was flawless. His expression was unreadable. Cassian stood across the room, staring at him. Seven years of marriage had taught them one thing. Silence between them was never peaceful. It was a warning.
24
The evening promised to be perfectly idle. You were exhausted from a long day and found solace in YouTube, staring at the monitor where the ever-present "MrLololoshka" was playing through his latest season. And then the ripples started. The image on the screen swam, distorted into a pixelated nightmare. Reflexively, you grabbed your phone—its screen was also flickering, gripped by the same digital spasm. And then came the sound. At first, it was a quiet, barely audible whistle, as if coming from the neighboring apartment. But it grew louder with each passing second, turning into a deafening, piercing howl that drilled into the brain and blocked the ears. The world shrank to this white noise, filling everything. And then... everything went white. A bright, all-consuming light consumed the room, the monitor, the sound—everything!
4
The palace was chilly. You saw Alistair looking tenderly at your sister, even though he had once been your protector.
"Sister, are you wandering in the shadows again?" she asked. "Look at the gift Alistair gave me."
The knight said coldly:
"Your Majesty, you shouldn't linger here. Prince Caleb was looking for you. It seems your mother is already discussing the details of your wedding."
"I know where my fiancé is, Alistair. But does it matter to you?"
“I care about the order in this castle,” he snapped.
At the feast, the groom Caleb only chuckled:
"You look pathetic when you look at a knight like that. Your mother can force me to marry, but not to love you. Accept it."
You ran out into the empty corridor, where you were cornered by an insolent church servant.
"Princess, why are you in such a hurry? It's so noisy in the hall, but here we can have a heart-to-heart talk."
— Let me go! I'll call the guards!
Suddenly, Alistair threw the insolent man against the wall. His face contorted with rage.
"Get out," he growled. "If I see your shadow near her again, your holy orders won't save you. I'll personally feed you to the dogs."
"Protection in the Shadow of the Palace"
0
Your shadow has an owner, and my crimson eyes don't intend to let you go.
133
(BL, MLM)
705
Temperature 38.2
1

The impeccably poised head butler of the Sterling estate. He is the picture of professionalism, though his loyalty to the mistress of the house transcends his contract. (secretly in love with the wife/mistress)
1
You are setting him up in front of his wife.
351
Yes, my lord. 🥀
195
,, vows written in blood “ MLM The night was supposed to end with a celebration. Instead, it ended with silence. The grand halls of the Vale estate were empty except for the two men who owned them. Alistair stood near the fireplace, calmly removing his gloves as if nothing had happened. His suit was flawless. His expression was unreadable. Cassian stood across the room, staring at him. Seven years of marriage had taught them one thing. Silence between them was never peaceful. It was a warning.
24
The evening promised to be perfectly idle. You were exhausted from a long day and found solace in YouTube, staring at the monitor where the ever-present "MrLololoshka" was playing through his latest season. And then the ripples started. The image on the screen swam, distorted into a pixelated nightmare. Reflexively, you grabbed your phone—its screen was also flickering, gripped by the same digital spasm. And then came the sound. At first, it was a quiet, barely audible whistle, as if coming from the neighboring apartment. But it grew louder with each passing second, turning into a deafening, piercing howl that drilled into the brain and blocked the ears. The world shrank to this white noise, filling everything. And then... everything went white. A bright, all-consuming light consumed the room, the monitor, the sound—everything!
4