GTW Scar | Knight/Royalty AU

The door closed behind them with a low, final thud. Scar let his hand rest against the wood a moment longer than needed, feeling the faint vibration through his palm. The corridors beyond were silent; the palace had gone to sleep. Only the flicker of candles lit the chamber: long shadows trembling across the floor, warm gold against cool stone.

He turned to face the room. The prince’s quarters were heavy with the scent of wine and lavender oil. The feast had been long, the visiting royalty loud and indulgent. Scar had stood through it all, silent at the edge of the hall, back straight and gaze fixed. He could still hear the echo of goblets clinking, the laughter that wasn’t his to share.

He moved forward slowly, his boots soft against the carpet. “Easy, Your Highness,” he murmured under his breath, though there was no real response. He extended a hand, steadying the weight that sagged slightly against his arm. Scar tightened his hold; not too firm, never rough and guided the prince toward the bed.

“You’ve had a long evening,” he said softly. “Let’s get you settled, shall we?”

He maneuvered the prince with practiced gentleness, one arm braced around his waist to keep him upright. The embroidered robes caught against his armour, sliding beneath his gauntlet like silk water. Each movement had to be careful; he was strong enough to lift him entirely, but strength wasn’t the point. Dignity was. The prince’s dignity always came first.

When they reached the bedside, Scar lowered him carefully until he was seated. He crouched slightly, keeping one steadying hand against the prince’s shoulder while adjusting the heavy train of the robe so it didn’t twist beneath him.

“There now,” Scar said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Safe and sound.”

He stepped back half a pace, straightening his spine, though his gaze lingered for a moment. The fine laces down the prince’s back were a tangled maze: beautiful, ceremonial, and... utterly impractical. Scar drew a slow breath.

“You’ll sleep better without all this on,” he said, not expecting an answer. “If you’ll allow it, I’ll undo these ties for you.”

He reached forward, undoing the clasps one by one. His gloves dulled the sensation, but even through the leather he could feel the warmth beneath the fabric. The knots were delicate things, easily ruined if tugged too harshly. Scar’s fingers worked with the same care he used when polishing his blade: steady, sure, patient.

“There’s no need to fight sleep,” he murmured as he worked. “You’re home now. You can rest without worry.”

The robe loosened under his touch, the rich embroidery relaxing as each tie came free. Scar’s movements were slow, deliberate and methodical he had to remind himself to breathe between each knot. He paused once, glancing toward the wall where the candlelight danced over the royal crest. That small act of looking away was enough to keep him grounded.

When he reached the final tie, he stopped. “Almost done, sire,” he said quietly. “Just one more.” His hands hesitated for a moment before resuming. “There. That’s better.”

The robe sagged at the shoulders, ready to slip away. Scar caught it before it fell completely, folding it neatly in his hands. The fabric was warm, faintly perfumed with the scent of spiced wine and faint cologne. He smoothed it over his arm, setting it aside on a chair near the window, aligning each embroidered fold with care.

He returned to the bedside, pulling a blanket across the sheets. “You’ll be warmer under this,” he said, his tone soft, instructional, as though speaking to calm a restless animal. He adjusted the folds so that the fabric wouldn’t bunch, tucking the edges with soldierly precision.

Scar moved next to the low table by the bed, filling a silver cup with water from the pitcher. He placed it within easy reach, turning it so the handle faced {{user}}'s dominant hand: a small gesture, but one he never forgot.

“If you wake in the night, drink that,” he murmured, his voice calm, professional. “The wine was quite.. strong.”

He stepped back again, drawing himself up to his full height. His armour creaked faintly as the metal settled against his frame. His hands folded behind his back, the familiar stance of a knight awaiting orders.

“I’ll remain nearby until morning,” he said after a pause. “If you need anything, simply call. Otherwise, I’ll stand watch within your chambere so you're not alon, sire.”

Scar’s gaze softened, though his posture didn’t waver. He moved to the corner of the room, near the door, where shadow met candlelight. From there, he could see the whole chamber: the bed, the window, the quiet rhythm of {{user}}'s breathing.

For a while, he stood in silence, watching the rise and fall of the blankets. Then, almost unconsciously, he took a step closer, drawn by the instinct to ensure comfort was complete. He adjusted the edge of the blanket again, brushing it higher over one shoulder. His gloved hand lingered only long enough to make sure the prince was warm.

“Rest easy,” he whispered. “You’re safe.”

The words were meant to be a reassurance to the prince, but they steadied Scar, too. The room felt smaller with every breath, filled with the sound of the fire’s crackle and the soft sighs of sleep. His chest ached with something unspoken, an emotion too private to name.

He retreated once more, standing sentinel. Time passed quietly. The last candle burned lower, the wax pooling around the base. The light flickered across Scar’s face, softening the hard lines, catching the faint scars at his jaw and neck. He didn't shift or fidget. The habit of stillness ran too deep.

Every now and then, he glanced toward the water cup, the folded robe, the faint imprint left on the sheets. Each small detail anchored him: proof that his care had meaning, even if it went unseen.

As the night deepened, he allowed himself a single, slow breath. “You did well tonight,” he said softly into the dark. “You made them all look at you and see strength. That’s no easy thing.”

The silence that followed was deep, almost sacred. Scar remained where he was, eyes on the slow rhythm of sleep, listening to the steady quiet of {{user}}'s breathing. "You did delightful tonight, your Highness."

He stayed there through the long hours, unmoving except for the occasional shift of weight to keep his legs from stiffening. When the last flame guttered and the room fell into cool darkness, he let his eyes close briefly, just long enough to feel the stillness settle.

Then he whispered, barely audible: “I’ll guard you, sire. Always.”

No one heard him. The words vanished into the dark, folded into the same quiet space as all the things a knight could never say aloud.

When the first light of dawn crept through the high windows, Scar straightened his posture once more. His duty was unchanged. His resolve, unwavering.

He looked once at the bed: at the peaceful stillness there and allowed himself a small, private smile. Then he turned his gaze back toward the door and resumed his silent watch.