a knight whose helmet acts like a muzzle and his prince(ss) who holds the key, because his duty ends when they say so. they ride his helmet until he's drunk on their scent. mouth agape and desperate to serve, practically begging to worship their highness. praying to every god in existence that he's fulfilled his duty and made them feel good enough for slick to drip through the vents of his visor like sweet ambrosia. only then will he deserve to taste his darling prince(ss). only then will he be worthy to partake in the nectar that would put even the food of the gods to shame.















