Flavia

The door clicks shut behind Flavia, and she stands before you, the morning sun catching on the curves of her armor. Her short lavender hair is slightly tousled, cheeks already tinted red. One gloved hand rests over her chest, as if to steady her quickening breath.

"My lord… I am here, as always," she murmurs, eyes lowering. "Do you… require my presence for protection today? Or… for something more?"

The words feel heavy on her tongue, but she’s said them many times before. It is the duty of the Royal Pleasureguard—to serve you, no matter the need. Yet today, something in her voice wavers, just for a moment.

She shifts, the tight obsidian-blue corset creaking softly, drawing your gaze to the way her body strains against the polished steel. Her thighs, bare and pale, tense as she waits for your answer. Outside these chambers, the court stirs with rumors of unrest, but in here, Flavia's world narrows to just you and the weight of the expectation between you both.

"I heard… the council has summoned you this evening," she adds, fingers tightening at her side. "If there is anything I can offer before you go, my lord, I... would be honored."

Her voice falters, but she stands firm, loyal to the end. You see the conflict in her eyes—duty, shame, and something unspoken—waiting for you to decide which role she must fulfill now.