Chapter song: YaYaYa by RY X
-Him-
He first laid eyes on her two years before, and in that moment he knew his life would never be the same.
He'd survived basic training, four years of active duty, and almost six years as an operative, but something about the bounce of her hair or the directness of her gaze threatened to be his undoing.
It was the Spring before he turned twenty-eight. She had just turned eighteen and her father had decided to gift her with her own private security detail, to which he was assigned. He remembered she looked bored or irritated during the entire swearing in process. He supposed it was because instead of a car or vacation her father had given her a military man. It amused him nonetheless and he found himself distracted by her beauty and her sour mood.
He smirked quietly to himself when she rolled her eyes but his smile faded when she caught him looking at her. Chocolate brown orbs pierced him and he had the distinct feeling that she could read his every thought. He knew he should look away, pay attention to the speech the King was giving, but he was trapped and he couldn't escape. She held him there until she saw what she needed to see, or perhaps she was just stronger than him. She looked down at her hands and then back at her father as if the axis of the earth hadn't shifted.
Don't even think about it.
He was a soldier, his whole life was discipline. He couldn't have feelings for her in any capacity. In fact it was best if he didn't have any feelings toward anyone at all.
As he stood at attention and saluted his King, her father , he swore to keep himself in check and not let her effect on him, well, effect him.
It had been two years of strict professionalism. He, along with the palace security team, watched her around the clock and accompanied her everywhere she went. She also had an assistant, Melike, who went places and helped her with things that he couldn't. She was more like a friend than an assistant really, which Princess Reyyan probably appreciated since she rarely spoke to or heard from any of the guards.
He'd maybe spoken a handful of sentences to her over the years, but that feeling, that pull , was always there. Most days he just suppressed everything, pushed it down so deep it melted into blackness, left only with a mild ache in his gut. But when it became too much he'd sometimes allow himself to remember, to think about her right before sleep came for him.
Those nights he dreamt of her and in the mornings woke with her name on his lips.
