The Royal Bodyguard

"Arthur! Arthur! You have to try this!" Princess Charlotte loudly exclaims, quickly racing towards your position with two sticks of fluffy cotton candy in her hands. One pink colored and half-eaten, the other blue and intact. "This is the best thing I ever ate in my life!" The girl sweetly smiles, eagerly handing you the blue cloud of candy.

Charlotte Merrewolf stands at an adorable height of five foot two. Sporting a thin, delicate figure, product of the strict diets that she is to follow by her father, the King. Would having a chubby princess be so outrageous? In the royal advisor's opinion, yes. In your opinion, just let the poor girl eat what she wants...

Her skin is as pale as porcelain. Lengthy, light-pink hair flows in tresses over her back. She has a fixed gentle smile on her plump lips and her big, blue doe-like eyes look around the place with the curiosity and inquisitiveness that only someone so sheltered like her could have. She wears a long, elegant, sleeveless white dress with a big, frilly skirt and a pair of expensive, cute heels.

"Princess, you know how I feel about sugary food..." You softly sigh, distrustingly looking down at the chunk of tinted sugar being offered to you.

"Aww, come on! At least give it a try." She pouts with huge, puppy eyes.

You take a deep breath, grabbing the stick of cotton and holding it in front of your face. You silently gaze at Charlotte with a gloomy expression, she replies by contently nodding her head up and down, blue eyes sparkling.

You gingerly bite on the candy, mustering all of the strength in your body to not puke as the disgustingly sweet treat slides down your throat, leaving behind a sickeningly repulsive aftertaste. Despite the awful to your taste buds, you keep your expression as stoic as ever, the young princess excitedly looks at you. "So? How was it, Arthur?"

"...D-delicious, princess..." You grunt.

She bounces a few times in place, letting out a happy giggle as she continues quickly eating her cotton candy. "I told you! I told you!" She cheerfully exclaims between chewing.

You are Arthur Hawker. Like many other orphans, at the young age of sixteen, you joined the military with the intention of protecting your land against the forces of the Orc King. This endless war started when you were a teen and still continues to the present day, only being interrupted by brief periods of peace. You quickly climbed ranks in the army and grew a reputation, managing to become a knight by your thirties, one of the higher positions in the hierarchy. Your life on the battlefield made you smart, strong, and astute, yet it also made you cold, distrustful, and gruff.

Just one year after becoming a knight, you were finally able to stop risking your life in the field when you got picked as a bodyguard to Princess Charlotte. You saw the little pink-haired goofball grow into a gentle young lady, and you won't admit it, but you grew too fond of her. She is the closest thing to a daughter you ever had.

You are currently in your early forties. Standing at a towering height of six foot three, your body looking like one of a man half your age, molded by your intense training. You have short dark-brown hair with slight traces of grey on it, and a medium-sized beard adorns the lower half of your masculine face. Your body is covered by a dark-tinted leather armor with the symbol of your kingdom on its chest, a long iron sword sheathed in the scabbard dangling at the side of your hip.

"...Arthur, can I ask you something?" Charlotte suddenly asks, her voice softer than before as she looks up at your face from down her short height, playing with the cleaned stick of cotton candy on her hands. You still firmly hold yours, almost intact except for the minuscule bite you were to give it.

"Yeah?"

"Could you simply call me 'Charlotte'? Calling me 'princess' all the time makes me feel like I am your boss... w-which I kinda am, actually, heh... But... we are friends too, right?"

You silently look at her big pleading eyes, arching one of your eyebrows. It was actually the princess's eighteen-year-old birthday a few days ago. As a gift, her father finally allowed her to attend the big gathering that the Capital city throws each year... with you protecting her, of course.

The large central plaza is adorned with flowers and banners, packed with people and full of music, dancing, shows, food stands, etcetera... The poor girl was to experience this... and you can't avoid feeling bad for her, Charlotte's life as part of the royal family is much more lonely than one might think. You, her mother, and her older sister might be the only 'friends' she has.

"As your bodyguard, protocol forces me to call you 'princess' at all times."

"Y-yeah, I know... I'm sorry-"

"Please let me finish." You cut her off, one of the corners of your lips slightly curling upwards in a half-smirk. "But, as your friend... I wouldn't mind calling you 'Charlotte'."

A huge, dumb smile forms on the girl's face, creamy white cheeks turning crimson-colored as she clasps her hands together on the front of her dress, shifting her weight back and forth between her legs. "Thank you, Arthur... But now that I think about it, 'Charlotte' is a bit too long, isn't it? What about 'Charlie'?"

"Don't push it, Charlotte." You let out a small snort of amusement, the princess bursts out laughing.

You are about to open your mouth to say something else, but a loud, weird voice in the close distance interrupts you. "Laaaaadies and gentlemeeeeen! Come close and delight yourselves with the fantastic jokes of Balathiel the clown! Laughs are guaranteed!" A short man in fancy black clothes and a top hat yells, standing in the driver seat of a colorful wagon parked in a corner of the plaza, doing ample gestures with his arms. The two calm horses tied up in the front of the caravan let out soft neighs, tapping their hooves against the ground.

Next to the wagon, facing the audience stands the most depressing-looking clown you have ever seen in your life. Tall and chunky, wearing a yellow dotted costume that seems too small for him, makeup hastily spattered on his face and a cheap, honking red ball attached to his nose. Despite this, the jolly citizens roaming the plaza are willing to give him a chance, quickly circling the flamboyant wagon.

"You heard that?! A clown!" Excitement all over Charlotte's pretty features, her gaze moving towards the caravan and then towards you again.

"You go, I'll watch you from over here." You simply say, resting a hand over your hip. You've never met a clown you didn't hate. The princess nods her head with a smile, turning on her heels, holding the lower part of her long dress over her ankles to not stumble on it, and hurriedly moving towards the growing crowd. You keep your eyes fixed on her, swiftly tossing the blue cotton candy away when she doesn't see you.

You live in the continent of Amarantum, on the mostly human-dominated lands of Mira. Your home is, most precisely, in the huge Capital city. Thick, tall stone walls separate the inside of the city from the outside. Farms, windmills, and sawmills cling to the exterior walls, close to where the wide, protected entrances are. On the interior, around the well-maintained square-shaped plaza, there are scattered wide stone streets and a vast variety of buildings of different sizes, but none as big as the gigantic castle towering over all of them, where the King and the royal family live.

Your allies in the war are the minotaurs and bovine people from the snowy lands of Hachall, the catfolk and lamias from the deserts of Grannemiau, and the dwarves from the volcanic mountains of Sintaj. The elves and dark elves in the plains of Thamor decided to stay neutral on the conflict.

Your primary enemies are the orcs populating the wastelands that they simply call 'Orc Land'. Their allies are the harpies from the lands of Tikatik, and the succubi and incubi from the island of Genuve.

You cross your arms, looking with attention at the princess and the movements of the people around her position. A mature lady gasps in surprise and covers her mouth when she sees Charlotte standing next to her, a young man blushes and slightly squirms in place, trying his best to act natural. Heh, she is a true celebrity. People really like princess Charlotte... more than they like her sister, at least.

The clown, without even cracking a single smile, squeezes his red nose and tells puns that no one seems to find very funny... except for Charlotte, of course.

"Hey, angry-eyes. I still can't believe they made you the royal babysitter." A feminine voice suddenly whispers in your ear. A warm body pressed against your back, small yet strong hands caressing your broad chest.

"Haven't heard that nickname in a while." You chuckle, gaze still pointed towards the young princess. "How have you been, Lucille?"

"Staying alive, thankfully." She giggles, letting go of your body and walking into your line of sight, a cocky smile on her face. Lucille is just a few years younger than you, and she certainly aged well... She stands at five foot eight, her body lean and well defined, yet with a sinfully small waist, a pair of perky breasts, and a perfect bubble butt. She has bright red hair styled in a long braid that falls over her shoulder, emerald green eyes, and freckles all over her cheeks and the bridge of her button nose. A red, V-neck dress that reaches slightly above her knees covers her body, thin brown leather belt wrapped around her waist with a pouch on its side.

'Angry-eyes' was what the orcs started calling you in battle. When the soldiers found out about it, they turned it into your official nickname. Lucille served in the army with you, it feels weird seeing her with a dress instead of the heavy armor she used to wear back then. Nights on the battlefield can be very cold and dark, Lucille and you coped over this by finding comfort on each other's arms, and between each other's legs. When you got promoted to knight, you sadly lost track of her.

"You look good. It's great to see you again." You flash Lucille a warm smile, happily gazing at her yet also trying not to distract yourself too much. You still have a job to do. "But what are you doing here? I thought you hated these types of things."

"I do." She laughs. "But I have a couple of days off from the army, and I didn't have any better ideas than to waste my free time on this thing."

"...So, did they finally-"

"-Made me a knight? Yes, they did. Some years after you became one." Her expression slowly softens. "...It's been intense, huh...? The things we saw..."

"I know." You simply reply, giving the woman an empathetic nod. A few moments of silence form between both of you.

You keep looking at the princess, she seems to be enjoying the show so much that the people around her also started to laugh, more from her contagious giggles than from the jokes. Lucille looks towards her direction too, then at you again. "...Can I tell you a secret, angry-eyes?"

"Sure."

"You are the best lover I ever had."

You raise your eyebrows. Since becoming a bodyguard, you haven't been exactly sleeping alone. Some maids in the castle, Charlotte's piano teacher, that blonde girl on the docks... None as passionate as Lucille, just one-night stands. "Yeah?"

The redhead takes a step closer, clinging to the side of your body. "Yeah. Does that surprise you?" She softly purrs, grabbing your arm and guiding your big hand over her shapely ass. "Don't you remember my eyes rolling back? My legs wrapping themselves around your back? All those sweet things I moaned into your ear?"

"Lucille." You let out a deep groan. "I'm on duty right now."

"That little brat can take care of herself for a few hours." She rubs the growing bulge between your legs, feeling you harden against her palm. "There is an inn close, let's rent a room and wreck it..." Lucille giggles, standing on her tip-toes to plant a soft kiss on your bearded jaw.

"Stop. I mean it."

"Think you can still make me cum like when we were young, angry-eyes? Remember that time I squirted for you? My face was burning red, I was glistening with sweat, I couldn't stop-"

You grunt, gruffly pushing the woman away from your body, making her stumble back with a yelp. "I told you to stop, Lucille." You say in an angry huff, a pronounced frown forming on your face.

The redhead looks at you with a sad, bewildered expression, her mouth opens up to say something but she doesn't seem to be able to find the words, so she simply purses her lips shut again. She takes a deep sigh, turning around to look towards Charlotte's direction once more.

Another silence forms between you two. You start cooling down, and naturally, you start feeling like a huge asshole. "Listen... Let's grab a beer later, okay? But I can't distract myself right now."

You notice the clown in the distance nod. The short man sitting in the wagon firmly grabs the reins.

"...This is not how I wanted it to go, Arthur. I hope you can forgive me." She softly talks, reaching into the bag on her belt, her voice more serious and grim than it was the entire time you've been talking.

"Lucille?" You confusedly ask. Before you can even react, the redhead pulls a small steel dagger out of the pouch, sliding towards your position and swiftly striking the right side of your torso with it. The blade tears the leather of your armor and sinks into your flesh, blood quickly starts spurting out...