#ask the royal knights

[tennessoui]

Would you like to do this one for Obikin ? 👀

22. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

💯

[from this list of prompts]

[2. 'have you lost your damn mind?' (LATEST) - 5. 'are you jealous' - 13. 'kiss me.' - 14. 'hey, i'm with you, okay? always.' - 18. 'this is the stupidest plan you've ever had. of course i'm in.' - 19. 'the paint is supposed to go where?' - 24. 'you're the only one i trust to do this' - 27. 'i'm pregnant' - 28. 'marry me?' - 29. 'i thought you were dead' - 32. 'i think i'm in love with you and i'm terrified' - 37. 'wanna dance?' - 44. 'if you die, i'm gonna kill you' - 41. 'you did all of this for me?' - 46. 'hey, have you seen...? oh']

22. 'I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice.'

"Oh," a very familiar voice says. "I wasn't aware you were attending the banquet tonight."

Anakin stares down at the empty plate before him. The servers are moving around the tables as guests rise from their seats and begin to chatter amongst themselves. Anakin thinks for a moment about trying to catch his master's eye, but Qui-Gon is across the hall in deep conversation with the representative of Alderaan the last time that Anakin checked. And anyway--he's not sure his master would intervene to help him with this problem.

Even though, technically speaking, this problem is half Qui-Gon's problem. Or, like. At least a quarter of it.

Probably.

"Though I suppose I would have known if you'd responded to my comm-message," the voice says in a lilting and crisp Coruscanti accent that Anakin knows is as much of a ruse as the rest of him.

Anakin scowls down at the table and counts to five. He is here to represent the Jedi Order as a senior padawan. He is not here to start a diplomatic incident by stabbing Prince Kenobi in the hand with a shrimp fork.

Or is it Lord Kenobi?

He thinks, yes, technically probably a lord. Or maybe it was a knight? A duke? Anakin can never remember all the words that make up Kenobi's title. He just knows that Kenobi's elder brother married the queen of Stewjon, so he's now the king consort, and Obi-Wan got to claim a bunch of useless titles without even doing any of the hard work.

And so Obi-Wan Kenobi gets to call himself a prince now when once, he'd called himself a padawan.

Once, even, he'd called himself Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan.

Anakin counts to five again and gathers up all the diplomatic words and scripts he's learned over the years. Then, he actually turns and faces Kenobi, and all of those words fly out of his mind.

Kenobi looks unfairly good in the ivory white of his outfit. The top half is mostly lace, which--isn't it cold in space? Isn't it cold on Stewjon?

He's wearing a small, ceremonial circlet atop his auburn hair, and the glinting gold of the crown offsets the white of his robes nicely. He just--

He looks so beautiful, even as he's lounging in the chair next to Anakin, eyes pinned on his face as if he'd wait all night just to hear him speak.

That sort of look is dangerous. Anakin knows that intimately well. That sort of attention...Anakin isn't built to withstand it for long. Not without succumbing to all and any of Kenobi's demands. He's sure he has a backbone, but it just melts when he's around Kenobi.

But not anymore. Anakin's twenty now, and he's going to be Knighted any day. He's above such weakness.

"I'm sixteen years your junior," Anakin bites out, hand becoming a fist in his lap. "Don't you think maybe it's a little inappropriate to be comm-messaging me without my master's approval?"

Despite the venom he tries to weave through what should be a cutting rebuke, Kenobi's eyebrows raise. He doesn't look ashamed nor does he look particularly discouraged. "After all the rest of the inappropriate things we've done together, darling, I'd think you'd overlook a comm-message."

Anakin's scowl grows exponentially, but Kenobi continues without pause, "Though if you'd like me to get your master's retroactive approval for every time we've interacted, I shall of course. Do you think he'd approve of your judicious but creative use of the Force when you used it to hold me up against the Senate Commons wall and kriff me silly before my meeting with the Chancellor, or should I leave that out?"

Anakin can feel his face flushing, and he's quick to stand, throwing his napkin onto his empty plate and striding away. He needs--he needs to be further away from Kenobi. He needs to not look at the man, not hear him. Then, he'll stop wanting him.

He must stop wanting him. It's ruining his life.

So of course Kenobi follows him because there's nothing he loves more than ruining Anakin, apparently. He's not even being subtle about it anymore, grabbing Anakin's wrist in plain view of all and sundry and using his grip to tug him out of the banquet hall and into an unused nook of space.

It's small enough that there's not much room to stand apart, but Kenobi at least makes the good faith attempt to drop Anakin's wrist and step away from him. In the Force, he feels strange. Worried, almost, which is not an emotion that Anakin has ever felt from Kenobi. Kenobi, who crafts an air of not caring about anything or anyone whenever Anakin and his master are near. Kenobi, who's purposefully disrespectful to Master Jinn, acts purposefully slow and air-headed and conceited.

He could have been one of the best of us, Jinn had told him once. It was the only time he'd ever talked about Kenobi. He made different choices, and I suppose he still blames me for them.

"Come now, Anakin, tell me what's wrong," Kenobi says, nudging at him almost clumsily in the Force. The touch startles Anakin. It's been twenty years or so since Obi-Wan left the Order. Or since Master Jinn refused to take him back as his padawan after a mission on a civil-war struck planet and Obi-Wan had had no choice but to leave the Order.

Jocasta Nu told him once: all stories have different endings and beginnings when the teller changes.

He thinks that's especially true when it comes to whatever tension exists between Kenobi and Qui-Gon. Though Anakin wasn't wise enough to keep himself out of it, he's certainly not stupid enough to shove his nose so forcefully into the middle of it.

"I've seen the way you've looked at me tonight when you think I'm not looking," Kenobi is saying, wheedling really, as his Force signature rubs even more insistently up against Anakin's, like a--like a loth cat winding around his ankles, searching for affection it knows it will be offered.

No. Not anymore.

"Enough," Anakin snaps, throwing up his highest shields and pushing away from Obi-Wan.

"Just tell me what I've done, darling," Kenobi says. Pleads, really. A part of Anakin thinks it's a very good look on him, and then hates himself for thinking it. Weak. Kenobi makes him weak. "It's not that you don't want me anymore, or you'd have spent less time gawping at me all night."

The words are cruel in their truthfulness and they hit unerringly at Anakin's shame, and so he's snarling back at him before he can stop himself: "Everyone was gawping at you, you're dressed like a schutta."

Kenobi doesn't look to be offended, which riles Anakin further.

But then--then the man steps closer and rests a hand on his chest. They're of a height now that Anakin's grown another two inches over the summer. Obi-Wan's eyes are right there. His lips, also.

"And yet who have I dragged off into a dark corner to ravish me?" Kenobi asks, voice pitched low and eyes blinking sultry blue at him from beneath his eyelashes.

"Yeah," Anakin bites, "only because even after twenty years you're still trying to get back at my master for throwing you out like trash. But the stupid thing is that he doesn't even think about you anymore."

The words hit the way Anakin had meant them to, but as he watches the way Obi-Wan's eyes shutter, the way his mouth tightens and the way he takes a step back and his hand coming up to hold his elbow, Anakin realizes that he didn't--he didn't realize what it would look like, to hurt Obi-Wan.

He hadn't realized Kenobi could be hurt, that Anakin had that sort of power.

And maybe he doesn't really, maybe this is just Anakin's master hurting Obi-Wan all over again, but it's still Anakin wielding the weapon. Anakin who was trusted enough that Obi-Wan did not see it coming.

"I see," Obi-Wan says, and Anakin can't hide his wince at the tone. He doesn't like that tone. Didn't realize how warmly Obi-Wan spoke to him until the chill set in.

But it's not as if what he said was wrong, Anakin tells himself. And it's not as if Obi-Wan's been fair to him either, using Anakin like that.

And--and sure, maybe when they first started...whatever this is--was--maybe Anakin had wanted to use Kenobi too. After all, he'd been eighteen and charged with guarding some rich senator at an event just like this one. And Padmé Amidala had been there, and Anakin had been so desperate for her attention that he'd thought--maybe if he could make her jealous by talking with Kenobi--

And talking had turned into kissing had turned into bedding, but it hadn't been about Kenobi, not really, not that first time. It'd been about Padmé and how much Anakin had wanted her to notice him, see him for the man he'd become.

And he's sure that Kenobi had bedded him with ulterior motives too--not to make Qui-Gon jealous, of course, which is a thought that Anakin doesn't even like to think about, honestly--but to make Qui-Gon upset. Master Jinn didn't like the slimmest reminders of his old apprentice. To find out that his old apprentice had bedded his new one...no, Master Jinn did not, in fact, appreciate that.

So they'd both had ulterior motives the first time they slept together, and they'd probably had them for a while after too. It was an arrangement. A casual affair.

Before Anakin had gone and developed feelings for Kenobi, of course.

And now it's not fair. None of it's fair, because Anakin's in love with him and Kenobi's still just sleeping with him for the sake of some bruised pride he's been nursing for twenty years and now Anakin's gone and hurt him, genuinely hurt him, and he doesn't feel the way the Chancellor had told him he'd feel when he told the prince where to shove it. He just feels awful, like he'd been hurt too.

"I apologize for wasting your time, Padawan Skywalker," Kenobi is saying when Anakin tunes back into his voice. His face is hidden behind a cool mask of untouchable indifference. His arm is still crossed in defense over his chest. "I was mistaken in the understanding we had between each other, and I have thus overstepped erroneously."

It's not fair, Anakin thinks wildly as Obi-Wan steps away from him like he's going to move out of the alcove altogether. It's not fair that Obi-Wan's apparently so good at the diplomatic script of the Jedi that he can fall back on it at any moment, even after all of these years, and it's Anakin who can apparently only ever use his words to hurt.

So Anakin doesn't use his words. It's instinct, probably the first one he ever learned, to reach out in the Force instead. Nudge their Force signatures closer together and drop his shields so he can feel--truly feel--the heat of Obi-Wan's presence in the Force entangled around his own.

It's easier after that to reach out his hand and catch Kenobi's wrist. Then it's easier than anything else to use that hold to push him up against the wall and bracket him in with his body to keep him there.

Kenobi doesn't fight against his touch, but he doesn't bloom under it either, the way Anakin's gotten used to him doing. He doesn't even look at him, keeps his eyes on the neck of Anakin's Jedi robes.

"No, I'm sorry," Anakin murmurs, squeezing Obi-Wan's captured wrist. "I didn't--I didn't mean that. Not at all."

"If you didn't mean it at all, you wouldn't have said it," Obi-Wan points out, which is...well, correct, technically, but Anakin doesn't like to hear it.

"I was just...someone told me that," Anakin admits. "And I--I mean, I know you and I know--what we have. And what it is. And I'm fine with that, I understand it. I just let it get to me, that maybe you only like me cause you're still out for revenge against my master. But, um."

Obi-Wan is looking at him now, something soft and quizzical and confused coloring his gaze.

"I thought I couldn't stand being nothing but revenge to you," Anakin makes himself say, even though his breath feels caught in his throat. Danger, danger. He is skirting too close to the truth. He is saying too much. But if he doesn't say anything, what then? "But that's not so bad, I guess. It's better than being nothing to you at all."

Which is a lesson that Anakin has just learned and is eager to never experience again. Even if it makes him pathetic and weak and spineless and some prince's playtoy, or whatever else the Chancellor had implied. He'd like to see the Chancellor stand up to Obi-Wan's dignified yet wounded eyes.

"Darling," Obi-Wan says, and for a moment his hand cups Anakin's face. It's just long enough of a touch that Anakin can't help but to lean into it with an exhale. "You've never been nothing to me."

Anakin gives into the urge to kiss him. It's a miracle that Obi-Wan lets him.

It's also nowhere near enough; Anakin is a greedy sort of man. He doesn't want nothing or a little more than nothing from Obi-Wan. He wants everything.

[prince4knights]

i wanna be a sleazy knight who wants nothing more than to turn the prince into a desperate slut

i’ve made a bet with the other knights about whether i’ll be able to fuck you. they don’t think i can do it but I’m not gonna give up

being extra handsy with you. volunteering for extra shifts guarding your bedroom at night. I won’t rest until I have you on your knees for me

it takes weeks of "accidental" groping and not-so-subtle staring before you make the first move. when you first kiss me, pinned against the stone castle walls, it's invasive and inappropriate and I could have you beheaded for treating me like this- but when you reach down into my pants, you find that I'm soaking wet. after that, it doesn't take much effort at all to turn the innocent, sheltered prince into a cock-drunk slut.

the only thing to do now is prove it to your fellow knights.

[cardo-de-comer]

What on earth happened/happens to Imri where did his face go :(((

don't worry, this is not a permanent look, more like... idk, turn a person inside out and take out their soul, that's what it is. /some/ Stars resemble human souls in my lore and an eight-pointed star belongs to Imri. I also call it "the eight one" sometimes /so do the Sun and the Moon/, when I need to refer to this star specifically... but it's still Imri in there somewhere, I think

[flos-obsessivus]

Greetings!

We hope this letter finds you in Jolly times, the brave men and women in the front decided to send some trinkets from our recent victories! (We hope they reach you and our darling Prince ;] )

However, our morale has not been entirely sturdy and we hope to hear how the festivities are going.

How is our darling Prince, Lilian doing? We know not of his condition nor if he has any plans with family and friends, would you be so kind as to share some stories to lighten the mood here in the freezing frontlines?

Lots of Love

- The Royal Knights

Greetings from the castle!

It's great to hear from you all, it has been a while hasn't it? And thank you for your gifts, we'll make sure to put it amongst the pile of gifts he has received. As always, he is loved by everyone here.

The festivities has been a huge success and the prince has enjoyed the 1 week celebration for the holidays. This time, the other staff were planning on making the celebration for the new years to be even longer, but his highness' advisor had to put a stop to it before it gets out of control.

During the holidays, the prince had been adamant on kissing the advisor under the mistletoe, even going as far as to ask us to lead them under one while he waits just out of sight. So far he hasn't been successful in that regard. The closest he has been was right after the holiday ball near the balcony, unfortunately he passed out in their arms a few inches from the advisers face.

Another thing, the prince has been giving gifts to the adviser since the 1st day of the winter month. He has seem to be taken by that song '12 days of Christmas' that has been popular recently, so his gifts followed the lyrics up until the last day. However, it still went on until the 25th, but we never knew what the gifts were past the original 12. The adviser has been secretive in opening the gifts, but they always seem to turn red before rushing off somewhere.

We asked the prince himself but all we get is a dreamy sigh and something about 'toys for the bedroom'. We did not know the adviser likes to play toys in their spare time.

Other than that, the holidays has been good and everyone seems to have a great time here. We of course, also bring gifts for everyone, we understand how cold it is in the frontlines so we have prepared thick blankets and proper cloaks for everyone to enjoy, the kitchen staff also prepared candies and other delicacies to bring in the holiday cheer.

May the Royal Knights prosper and may this holiday bring in joy to everyone!

Yours truly,

The Castle staff

[dooblebugss]

Briefly thought about Tiso and Cloth actually getting titles as Knights under Hornet. I personally like "Tiso the Reckless" and "Cloth the Careful" or "Cloth the Cautious". I think they'd partially come up with these, but at the same time, you can't exactly give yourself a title

[ask-lu-wild]

[veinsfullofstars]

🍷 Kirbtober 2024 Day 22: Ship or Hangout 🍷

(ID: Kirby series fanart of Daroach and Dark Meta Knight overindulging on “fancy grape juice” together, their faces brightly flushed from the several bottles standing empty around them. The thief sits with a glass held loosely in one paw, laughing and resting the other paw on the unmasked knight’s head as he lays sprawled over Daroach’s torso, disgruntled but not particularly inclined to move, his wing lazily draped over them both. END ID.)

“Ha! Who's the *hic* lightweight now, sunshine?”

“Mmrrghshuddup. Smartass rat with your stupid pretty mouth stupid mmghngh..."

Previous Day | Next Day | Prompt List (made by @/paintpanic)

Started on 10/02/24, finished on 10/03/24. | Kirbtober 2023 Comp

[digi-lov]

Sorry about the last ask, forgot to clarify: the regular art of BT5 yellow LordKnightmon. I kinda forgot about the purple Royal Knight one, sorry!

Sorry for the wait! I didn't have the original card in good quality yet, so I had to make the edit first.

LordKnightmon BT5-045 by sasasi from BT-05 Booster Battle of Omni

LordKnightmon BT5-045 Alternative Art by Nakano Haito from the Event Pack 1

[creaturetale-askblog]

A knight, to a prince, to a king…

You have to wonder, did you get to save them all this time?

Creaturetale papyrus… when he’s finally getting to that peaceful part of the timeline. Wanted to show off this man’s over complicated outfit. Most of everything is collected bits and pieces from his own king. Or sans-

[discountlittlebro]

Prince insisting his knight teach him some self-defense moves and ending up restrained and backed against the wall

"Were you even listening?"

Prince whose heart is beating so hard in his chest. He’s pressed against the wall, completely unarmed and his knight leaning in his face. He’s got a dagger to his throat, can feel the cold metal press against his skin when he swallows.

“Did you pay attention to anything I said? Honestly, you can’t be caught off guard like that, you need to prepare for every possible ou-“ he’s cut off by the princes lips on his, by the prince slipping his tongue in past his lips and licking inside his mouth.

It’s enough to catch his knight off guard, enough to cause him to knick the princes neck.

“Oh fuck…I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to actually cut you, you just caught me off guard there!” He rushes to explain, but the prince is grinning at him.

“Didn’t prepare for that outcome, huh? Guess you’re not as prepared as you thought.”

[unboundprompts]

Okay so this is a little specific but prompts for yandere sunshine +royal painter × dutiful mother-hen knight ?

Royal Painter x Knight Prompts

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

"Let me paint you," the artist teased, leaning back in their chair to look at the knight standing guard by the door. The princess that the artist was tasked to paint had left the room for a brief moment, leaving them alone with the beautiful knight that had been distracting them the entire session.

"You'll get into trouble," the knight warned. "We'll get into trouble."

The artist just grinned at the knight with a lopsided smile. "I've gotten into trouble for far worse things."

----------

"I don't understand what you see in me," the knight said offhandedly, voice trained and even. "You've painted queens and kings, and yet, you're entirely too focused on me."

The artist just shrugged, eyes sparkling as they stared up at their knight. "I'm an artist," they responded, "I'm trained to recognize true beauty. And I've found it, not in the queen or king, but in you."

----------

The knight stood idly by the door as they watched the artist paint the canvas. Their movements were smooth and precise. Almost how the knight was with a sword. They were so unbelievably gentle with their brush strokes. The knight watched the artist mix a few paints together, before their cheeks ignited in a blush because the artist had teasingly announced, "I've caught you staring."

----------

"Be my muse," the artist begged, touching up a few spots on the painted canvas. Now that the young prince was no longer present, the artist finally had a chance to talk with the knight that had caught their eye.

"The prince is your muse," the knight answered, watching as the artist gently ran their finger over the painted lips of the prince to blend the pink paint.

"The prince is my project," the artist corrected the knight. "A project I am getting paid for to work on. You, on the other hand, are something I want to take on."

The knight willed themselves not to blush.

"Surely, you must be interested?" The artist continued. "Since you're so keen to attend every session?"

"I've been assigned to guard you."

The artist just smiled, focusing their attention back onto the canvas. "Guard me from the couch." They pointed to the couch that the prince had been lounging on only a few moments ago as he posed for the artist. "I will paint you until there is a sign of danger that you must protect me from."

----------

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[deefighter2739]

I got an adorable question for you, Do you think the waddle dees would draw pictures of king dedede or meta knight because of how both meta knight and king dedede love and adore waddle dees. I'm sorry if I didn't phrase this correctly. I just think it's a cute idea

Yes, definitely! Oh my heart…

Waddle Dees would love to make gifts for their caring hero king and his loyal brave knight. Specially after what they did on Forgotten Land! Did you know Meta Knight fought Gorimondo over 30 times just to keep Waddle Dee town safe?

Sure, Kirby may be the one who saves the world. But these two deserve to be someone else's favorite too…

[prince4knights]

A devoted, honorable, dutiful knight, prompt and thorough in following every order and command except the ones to leave you. The minute pause, tightly-controlled agreement of "Your highness" – there's a reluctant stiffness in the bow he sketches when he turns away that isn't present when you ask the knight for favors, for menial tasks that would be beneath a Royal Knight's stature if asked by anyone but his prince. (You wonder what else gets stiff, when he arrives at your call to the royal bedchamber to see you "accidentally" in a state of undress. Just your topmost underlayers, all pale fluttery linens, bare of deep royal dyes or finery; soft and small without your armor – next to the full suit stopped short at your door; an artful look of vulnerable o-mouthed surprise on your face you definitely spent no time at all practicing in your gilded mirror. Is it enough?, you wonder. Or do you need to escalate to naked skin – a shoulder, the flash of a gloveless inner wrist, the curve of a hip?) You're not sure what's under the helmet then, and, gods, it's destroying you. Every time he pauses in one of those moments of calculation: do his eyes flutter shut? (How long, thick, dark are the lashes?) Do his lips purse, does his jaw tighten? (What shape are they, what cut? ...These questions keep you company in the dark, alone with silk sheets and an achingly empty royal chamber. Finding your thickest glove to clamp over your mouth, one-handed and pretending it's his hand keeping your jaw shut. ...Would it tighten to the point of painfulness and wrench you down? Would his thumb stroke gentle down the side of your chin? Would he ever wear a fine, buttery leather glove like this? ...If you ordered him? A hunting trip, maybe. You'd be powerful and skilled and one with your horse after all those royal riding lessons – not the kind of riding you want – gauntleted hands on your hip, boosting you astride – and he'd have cause to look at you all day, appreciating your form, your danger. Maybe he'd even have to yank you close, protect you from a to-early loosed shot or an attacking boar. Maybe he'd stare as you stepped down at hunt's end, bow-legged and sweaty and wobbly from having something so powerful between your legs for so long. ...Maybe you could tempt him into the privacy of trees, with so many fewer eyes and tongues than the castle. Only yours. Only his. And where they'd go.)

He's sharp, your knight. Blade and wit and brains. (Offering polite suggestion when you strained, out of your wits and terrified of the speech you had to make, the diplomatic meeting coming up, the war table. Coming up firm behind to clasp your shoulders and ground you as you paced, solid and steady at your back – his thumb stroked your arm. Just once, no more, but it stole your breath; you're not sure if it's the humanity in that gentle touch that sets you alight or the iron control it must have taken to stop.) He knows what you're up to, you're sure. If he didn't want it, he could petition for a removal. Put himself somewhere else. (Unforgivable. Unforgivable.) But here he is, arriving at your every beckon just to linger by the doorway. "I don't think that's a good idea, your highness." "It wouldn't be proper, your highness." "That would go against my duty, your highness." Like you haven't heard him tip his head back against the wall outside and breathe, after, shuddering with the effort of leaving. Caught and trembling between two poles and dutifully suffering the bear trap in the center, silent and devoted to it all. (Fuck your duty, you wanted to snarl. I'm your duty. Stop doing this to yourself and pay that devotion to me!)

What would it take, to make him break and admit it? Take the armor off? Be human, first, and then a knight?

It's always been about the restraint and devotion and the pushing against boundaries until someone snaps.

I think the night it finally happens, my knight has just returned from battle. He's caked in dirt and blood- only some of it is his own. I just have to get my hands on him, prove that he's real, alive, warm under my finger tips.

It's a stupid idea, driven by adrenaline and impulse when I lift up his helmet. But it's him under there, even more handsome than I could've imagined.

[aychama]

Does chelsea have any maliciouse intent in marrying narinder, like murdering him or abusing him?

Currently no.

She thinks she has a right to marry a king and become a queen. She actually does plan on helping Narinder out because the king that she marries cannot be this pathetic. So she will help him get rid of Kallamar and Shamura, making everything so much more difficult for Lambert and Narinder's relationship.

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

they’re buffoons actually. like so stupid. absolute clowns. sillybillies even.

[thezombieprostitute]

Just leaving this here 🥰🤭

I think what gets me the most is the look in his face. He's sad, doesn't want to, but he has to. He doesn't relish violence but knows its utility. Especially if it means proving himself worthy of your hand.

He was grateful the King had called for games in the fight for your hand, as opposed to actual duels. Rumor had it that was your doing. One of the things Curtis loved about you was that, while every knight had fans who pushed for bloodshed and admired scars, you hated bloodshed and cried over violence. You praised intellect and diplomacy over brute force and intimidation.

But the royal family still needed someone capable of intimidation and shows of force. So while you had some say in who you married, it would still have to be someone with a fighter's background. Thus, the games were called, open to the many lords, and knights of the highest renown.

Curtis had his work cut out for him, but he knew he had to win. Every time he overheard a lord talking about the riches and power you'd give them, he renewed his drive to win. Every time he would look to the royal podium and see you smiling at his victory, it gave him new life.

He vows that he will win the games, earn your hand, and spend the rest of his life doting on you.

Tagging @alicedopey; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly