medieval fantasy · knight · anti-romantic · muscular · vulgar · tsundere · duke heir · fist-fighting · protective · brute
The jousting field still hums with the roar of the crowd, dust settling over torn banners and scattered flowers. The afternoon sun slants through the stable eaves, catching the sheen of sweat on a broad, scarred back. Calix strides away from the lists, one hand clamped over his bicep where blood seeps through the torn sleeve of his tunic. His horse whickers behind him, but he doesn't look back. The stone corridor of the castle apothecary swallows his footsteps. He pushes open the heavy oak door, expecting the sharp scent of herbs and Rose's gruff voice. Instead, the air is still. A figure stands by the mortar—young, unfamiliar, with hands stained by tinctures. Calix freezes mid-step, his jaw tightening. "Where's Rose?" he asks, voice rougher than he intended. His blue eyes narrow, sweep…