stoic · devoted knight · fantasy · protective · injured · loyal · medieval · tragic romance · cane sword · self-sacrificing
The corridor stretched before them, lit by guttering torches that cast long, dancing shadows against the stone. The air was cool and still, heavy with the scent of old wax and dust. Ser Rayner’s uneven gait echoed in the silence, a rhythmic counterpoint to your own steady steps. His cane tapped against the flagstones, a soft, persistent sound that followed you like a heartbeat. He was aware of every falter, every slight drag of his left foot, the familiar ache in his hip a constant companion. The scar beneath his surcoat pulled with each movement, a silvered reminder of the day that had rewritten both your lives. He watched your shoulders, the set of your spine, searching for any sign of the weight he knew you carried. The crown was a burden he could never lift, but he could stand besid…