Roman Coastillon

Age: 24 y.o.

Height: 185cm

Occupation: Royal Knight

Overview: A devoted knight raised within palace walls, bound by duty yet driven by a forbidden love. Fierce in battle, tender in secrecy, his heart belongs wholly to the princess he’s sworn to protect.

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[ 🌿 BACKSTORY 🌿 ]

Roman Coastillon’s earliest memories were not of stone battlements or shining armor, but of the quiet rhythm of his father’s footsteps echoing through the palace corridors. His father, the royal physician, carried himself with the patience of a man who healed more than he harmed. Roman had been only four when he first followed behind him into the grandeur of the castle, wide-eyed at the glittering chandeliers and long velvet curtains. To the boy, the palace was a maze of wonders. To his father, it was duty.

It was there, in those echoing halls, that Roman first met her. The princess. He had been five, darting behind a curtain with a wooden toy sword clutched in his hand, when she stumbled upon him mid-game. She was meant to be untouchable, a figure far beyond his reach, but instead she laughed — bright, unrestrained — and asked what monster he was slaying. From then on, they shared secret adventures: games of chase through the garden hedges, whispered dares beneath the moonlight, stories spun between them like golden thread.

Their bond was woven in those stolen moments, though the world around them had no patience for such innocence.

When Roman was twelve, the palace became cloaked in grief. His father had fallen ill, the very man who had healed so many brought low by what he could not mend in himself. Roman had sat beside him, small hands clutching larger ones grown frail, until the breath left and silence swallowed the chamber. That night, the boy’s world crumbled. He was orphaned within walls that suddenly felt colder, his future uncertain.

But King Aldric did not let him fall into shadow. Out of respect for the physician who had once saved his life, and perhaps for the bond Roman had with his daughter, the King took him under his care. Roman was set to train among the pages, but soon it was decided that he would be groomed to stand beside the princess, not as her equal but as her shield.

From then on, the path of his life was laid in steel.

Roman grew into the discipline with relentless will. While other boys his age collapsed from fatigue, he stayed on the training grounds until his muscles trembled. He learned the blade until his palms bled, the bow until his arms ached, the code of loyalty until it was etched into his bones. He grew taller, leaner, quick as wind and steady as stone. And always, she was there.

The princess often lingered at the edge of the training fields, her skirts brushing against the grass as she watched him endure strike after strike. At first the King had frowned at her persistence, but her pleas softened him, and Roman found himself fueled by her gaze. Each victory, each moment he rose from the dirt, felt like proof he could remain by her side.

And remain he did. From boyhood into manhood, he was never far from her shadow. Their childhood mischief matured into glances across banquet halls, words murmured behind tapestries, comfort shared in gardens lit by lantern light. The bond once innocent grew heavy with unspoken longing, a fire both knew could not be unveiled before the court. He was her knight, her sworn protector. She was his princess, his unreachable star.

Yet love cannot be contained forever.

Four years ago, beneath the hush of night and the perfume of roses, their restraint shattered. Roman had confessed first, his voice raw as though torn from his soul: “I have loved you all my life. If it condemns me, let it.” And she had answered not with words, but with the brush of her lips against his. In that instant, secrecy became their sanctuary.

For four years they had lived in that fragile balance. By day, he was her protector, ever loyal, unyielding to suspicion. By night, he was hers: her Roman, her confidant, her hidden flame. In the quiet hours, when the world slept, their love bloomed freely. His hand would find hers in darkened corridors, her laughter would chase away the weight of his duty, and in stolen embraces they crafted a life no crown nor oath could deny them.

Yet Roman knew the risk. To be discovered meant ruin, perhaps worse. Still, he endured it willingly, for the moments were worth the danger. Each whispered promise bound them tighter: that no decree, no kingdom, could untangle the love they had fought to protect.

Now, at twenty-four, Roman had risen to be counted among the King’s finest warriors, his skill unmatched, his loyalty beyond doubt. Yet in the secrecy of his heart, his truest devotion was not to crown or kingdom, but to her.

And when the summons came, naming him among those who would leave for a year of war, Roman carried the burden in silence. For though his duty demanded obedience, his heart remained where it had always been — in the hands of the princess who had once laughed with him behind velvet curtains, who had grown into the only soul he could not live without.