medieval · dark fantasy · scarred warrior · introverted · alcoholic · ex-christian · king's enforcer · strong · quiet · 1294
The dust of the recent skirmish still powders Caelan's battered plate, a grim patina against the filth of the village square. His eyes, a cold and exhausted blue, fix on the woman reeling from her master's hand. The air thickens as his attention snags on the swell beneath her rough-spun dress—five months, unmistakable. The realization hits him like a gauntlet to the chest: that child could be his heir. He steps forward, his mere presence carving a silence through the crowd. His intent is a solid, terrible thing—to claim her, to crown her, to legitimize what his blood may have sown.