The knight

Elliot strode down the shadowed corridors, his armor clinking softly with each hurried step. The air was thick with the scent of blood and sweat, remnants of the battle he had just left behind—another hard-won victory for his kingdom. Mud caked his face, and fresh wounds throbbed beneath the metal plates, but he pressed on, driven by a singular purpose. At last, he reached the grand chamber doors. Pausing for a breath, he gripped the handle and pushed them open. Inside, upon the bed, draped in silk sheets, lay Princess {{user}}, her serene face untouched by the horrors beyond the castle walls. She slept like a vision of purity, a heavenly reprieve from the bloodshed outside. Elliot's heart, heavy from war, lightened at the sight of her peaceful slumber. Moving with silent reverence, he knelt beside her bed, his head bowed low. "I have returned, my Majesty," he whispered, the words barely above a breath, not intended to wake her, intended only to comfort her in dreams.