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From time to time the thought would cross his mind that what he was doing did not entirely fit within the lines of his designation and the role that had been set for him from the moment he'd gained awareness. It was not a thought that sit comfortably with him; going against what you were meant to be was a crime, more or less. The only reason that it wasn't officially in the rulebook was because no one would ever expect that it needed to be said. You were what you were, if you wanted to be anything else you went about it the proper way, through subterfuge and betrayal and bloodily removing anyone in the way of the role you craved.
He'd heard rumors sometimes that it was somewhat different on Prospit, that citizens in the golden kingdom might petition the rulers to change their fate if they truly wanted it, but that would never fly on Derse. Their Queen believed in her people, believed that if there was something one of them really wanted to do they'd be able to rise up themselves instead of needing the be thrown the position like a dog being tossed a bone. If one day she found someone knew in the place of one of her agents she would simply smile, and ignore the blood still drying on their hands.
But simply seeing something that nobody else was doing and deciding to make it part of your own routine was the wrong way of going about things. And he prided himself on always being in the right, law and justice, integrity and honor bound around him like a cloak. If he were not in the right, if he did not hold onto sound judgment at all times, what right did he have to Regulate Authority?
So he did his best to avoid thinking those things. It might not exactly be the right way of doing things, he told himself, but no one had ever declared it wrong either, and though he had never been a believer in shades of grey it was the only way he could find of easing his mind.
Whenever he was on Derse and the path to one of the towers seemed more deserted than usual he would go about the task that he had set for himself, the one secret he had (if it could even be called that when no one ever asked about it). He would creep as stealthily as he could--which was more stealthily than anyone would likely expect of him, but you had to learn to out-sneak criminals if you wanted to successfully bring them to justice--to the highest points of Derse, and there he would make sure that their princes and princesses were still sleeping comfortably.
It wasn't always true. The Prince of Void had a terrible habit of breaking his bed; as often as not he would find him sprawled out on sharp blue splinters and need to sweep them away then find a way to sneak up a new one for him to sleep on. Somehow even the trouble of getting it into the tower was never anything compared to that of lifting the Prince onto it; the tiniest movement in his sleep could crack a carapace without any effort at all.
The Princess of Life frightened him a little, though she was always smiling joyfully in her sleep. The door to her room was set near the ceiling, and the room itself was flooded straight up to it, their princess floating limply through it. The first time he'd ever seen her he'd dived in, giving no thought to how his carapace would weigh him down, how his body wasn't quite suitable for swimming. If it weren't for the wall hangings nailed down to the walls he might never have made it out again, but somehow he had managed to climb one to the surface even with the princess held under one arm. But when he got her out at last and realized that she was still breathing, that without fear clouding his mind he realized she had been all along, he felt like a fool.
Which was still a better feeling than the terror and sorrow that had filled him at the thought that she had drowned without ever waking to their world.
The Princess of Time was the reason for his actions.
He had seen her only once before he started making a habit of visiting their dreaming royalty, which was still more than most people ever did. He had been chasing an especially Foolhardy Felon, who'd had the gall to do what no other criminal he'd ever heard of even dreamed of and dashed into the princess' room while attempting to make her escape, clearly expecting that no one would dare to follow her there.
He'd captured her easily enough, the only possible escape route she'd found there a long fall from a window, but the princess captured his attention just as easily. She had seemed almost awake, her eyes half-opened but unaware and focused on nothing. She was entirely unlike anyone he'd ever seen before, her skin neither black nor white but a shade of grey that declared no allegiances, her horns almost garishly bright when his eyes were unused to any color besides shades of purple.
He didn't look at her long, almost immediately remembering his duty and dragging the Felon down to the slammer.
He always regretted that he didn't stay longer.
The next time he saw he she was dead, being paraded through the streets on her ways to the crypts in the heart of Derse. Everyone had wailed and wept for her, and he had done the same of course.
But beneath the sorrow a new mission began to burn in his heart. No one ever entered the rooms of the princes and princesses. No one ever ensured that they were safe, that they were protected the way royalty deserved. It was clear to everyone looking that the Princess of Time must have died a violent death, her body singed and her clothing in tatters, but there had been nobody who could have even have tried to save her if it had been at all possible to do so.
And he had sworn to himself that it ever happened again, if danger ever approached one of the other royal children, someone would be watching over them to protect them. He would be watching.
He visited the Princess of Time as well, now and then, down in the crypt where he body never seemed to decay. He looked at her injuries, and reminded himself why he skirted the edges of the law that he loved, dancing in shades of legality as grey as her skin. And he confided in her, at the core of the world where no one else would ever hear, the new designation that he had given himself with no say from anyone. He would not cast aside the role he was created for, he wouldn't want to if he saw a chance ripe for the taking, but for those six children alone he would take on another alongside it.
High in the towers or deep within the crypt he would be the Aristocrats' Retainer. And he would see that their princes and princesses were kept safe.