The Royal Affair 👑 | Part 1: The New Assignment (Patreon)

All characters are 18+ and this story is entirely fictional.Everything that happens is safe, sane, and consensual.

Author’s Note: This part of the story is written in 3rd person.This story began as a modern royal romance. As it developed, the world around Elias and Damian deepened into something more insulated, ceremonial, and governed by tradition rather than technology.

From Part 5 onward, the setting shifts into a more timeless royal court, where power is enforced through ritual, proximity, and lineage, and where the palace exists largely apart from the modern world beyond its gates.

If you are reading from the beginning, imagine the early chapters as an entry point into this court rather than a strict depiction of contemporary monarchy. The emotional continuity remains unchanged; only the lens has sharpened.

Thank you for stepping fully into the world with me.

The car slowed as the palace gates came into view, iron wrought in curling patterns that seemed more like art than security. Beyond them, golden lamps cut through the early evening fog, casting long, regal shadows across stone courtyards that had seen centuries of secrets.Damian Holt sat straight-backed in the rear seat, hands folded, his jaw locked in quiet readiness. Old habits never died, especially when they’d been drilled into you on battlefields far from marble halls like these. He wasn’t supposed to be here; not in this world of polished crowns and carefully staged smiles but then again, most of his life had been spent in places he didn’t belong.

The assignment had been clear, almost too clear: protect Prince Elias of Corwin, second in line to the throne. Officially, Damian was to serve as aide and secretary, the kind of figure who could slip unnoticed into photographs and press briefings. Unofficially, he was the shadow. The wall between the prince and anyone who might want to use him; politically, socially, or otherwise.

And yet as the car passed under the gates and deeper into the palace grounds, Damian felt an unease stir in his chest. He knew the kind of man he was here to protect: entitled, self-assured, used to a world bending for him. What he didn’t know was how long it would take before the prince tried to bend Damian too.

The vehicle rolled to a stop at the grand entrance. White stone steps rose like a small mountain toward heavy doors, and Damian pushed the thought away. He had work to do.

He stepped out into the cool night air. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired...he didn’t need the uniform anymore; his presence carried its own authority. The guards at the door stiffened automatically when his eyes flicked over them, trained instinct reading posture, discipline, gaps. They were ceremonial. Pretty, polished, and useless if real danger came.

Damian adjusted the cuff of his shirt, then climbed the steps into the palace.

────────────────The corridors smelled faintly of candle wax and old paper, the weight of tradition pressed into every carved molding. A chamberlain led him through the main hall, speaking in clipped, hushed tones about duty, discretion, schedule. Damian half-listened, eyes scanning the environment. He could map a room in three seconds, find exits in two, identify threats in one. He’d survived this long because his mind never stopped working.

They stopped outside double doors of dark oak. The chamberlain hesitated, then gestured.

“The Prince is expecting you.”

Damian nodded once. The doors opened, and there; framed by light from tall arched windows… stood the prince.

Prince Elias.

The photographs hadn’t done him justice. He was younger than Damian anticipated, yet there was something old in his eyes; something caged. His hair was golden, wavy, falling just enough out of place to make him look effortlessly composed. His eyes; blue, clear, almost too sharp lifted from the paper in his hand and settled on Damian.

For a beat, neither spoke.

“Mr. Damian Holt,” the chamberlain announced stiffly. “Your new aide, Your Highness.”

Elias turned, his pale blue gaze sweeping over Damian with deliberate slowness. He didn’t bother to hide the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Aide,” Elias repeated, as though tasting the word. Then he looked Damian square in the eyes. “You don’t look like an aide.”

Damian didn’t flinch. “And you don’t look like someone who needs one.” His voice was low, calm, with just enough edge to make the chamberlain shift nervously. “They send me a soldier dressed up as a secretary. How charming.”

Damian’s jaw tightened. He’d been called worse. “I go where I’m assigned.”The prince’s brows lifted. For the briefest second, there was amusement in his expression ; quick, sharp, then hidden.

“You’ll find, Mr. Holt,” Elias said smoothly, “that I don’t require a shadow trailing behind me. Whatever reputation you carry, I assure you, my life is not nearly so dangerous as all that.”

Damian’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. “And yet, here I am…” He paused for a brief second, “…your Royal Highness.”

Silence stretched between them. Servants exchanged uneasy glances. The prince held Damian’s gaze longer than was proper, his chin tilted, testing. Damian didn’t drop his eyes. He never did.Finally Elias dismissed the chamberlain with a flick of his hand. The room emptied until only the two of them remained.“I don’t need a babysitter,” Elias said, stopping just shy of arm’s reach. His eyes flicked briefly over Damian’s shoulders, chest, stance, as though weighing him. “You look like you’d rather be breaking down doors than fetching schedules.”

“Try me,” Damian replied. His voice had a hint of dry steel, enough to draw Elias’s gaze sharply back to his face.

“You’re not like the others they’ve sent,” Elias said quietly.

“Is that a compliment, sir?” Damian asked.

“It’s merely an observation.” The prince crossed to the window, hands folded behind his back, his tone casual but edged with something else. “The others follow me like dogs. You… look at me as if you’re waiting for me to do something reckless.”

Damian leaned slightly against the mantel, folding his arms. “Am I wrong to?”

Elias glanced back, his lips twitching. “Depends how well you handle disappointment.”

The banter was subtle, but Damian recognized the game instantly. The prince was testing him… pushing at the boundaries, searching for weakness. Most guards bowed their heads, stumbled over formality. Damian gave him none of that.

“I’ve handled worse,” Damian said simply.For the first time, the prince faltered. Just for a second. Then his mouth curved, the faintest smirk tugging at him. “Hm. Perhaps you’ll be less boring than the last one.”

The prince’s smirk faltered, just slightly. Then he laughed under his breath and turned back to the window, as though ending the conversation on his terms. But Damian didn’t miss the way his shoulders had loosened, the way the tension in his stance shifted.

It wasn’t trust. Not yet. But it was the first crack in the wall.

────────────────That evening, Damian followed at a distance as Elias moved through the palace routine. He was present but unobtrusive, a shadow that never faltered. The prince went from meetings to dinner, charming and graceful before his family and advisors. But whenever his eyes drifted across the room, Damian caught them. The glances were fleeting, unreadable, but they were there.

At the long dinner table, Elias leaned sideways toward his elder brother, whispering something that made the prince laugh. But his gaze flicked to Damian at the edge of the room, lingering a beat too long. Testing again.

Later, as they walked back through a quiet corridor, Elias broke the silence. “Do you always stare so intently, Mr. Holt? Or am I simply that fascinating?”

Damian’s reply was immediate. “I stare where danger might come from, Your Highness. Tonight, it happened to be you.”

Elias stopped mid-step, turning with wide-eyed mock offense. “Danger? Me?”

Damian tilted his head, voice calm. “You underestimate how easily a reckless prince can start wars or end them.”

For a moment, Elias just studied him, lips parted as though caught between retort and silence. Then, to Damian’s surprise, he laughed. A real laugh this time, unguarded and warm.

“You’re insufferable,” Elias said, but there was no heat in it. If anything, his eyes shone brighter.

“And yet,” Damian said, stepping past him to open the door to his chambers, “you’re still standing here…. Your royal highness”The prince lingered in the doorway, looking at Damian with a mixture of curiosity and irritation; the kind reserved for puzzles that refuse to be solved. Finally, he shook his head, that faint smirk returning.

“Goodnight, Damian.”

Damian inclined his head. “Goodnight, Your Highness.”

The door closed between them. But Damian knew, with the certainty of a man who had survived wars, that this was no ordinary assignment.

The prince had looked back once more before the door shut completely. A fleeting glance, quick but weighted. The kind of look men weren’t supposed to give other men.

Damian stood alone in the corridor, jaw set, pulse steady, but deep inside he felt the shift.

The first crack.

And he knew this assignment would test far more than his loyalty.────────────────The Royal Affair 👑 | Part 2: The Prince Tests His Shadow