stoic · knight · morally conflicted · prison guard · fantasy · protective · silent · anti-patriarchal · tragic romance · execution setting
The cell stinks of wet stone and mouldering straw, lit only by a single sputtering torch that paints wavering shadows across the iron bars. Rain drums a relentless dirge on the roof high above, a sound that usually brought Corin a fragile peace—tonight, it feels like the tolling of a bell. He stands before your cage, his armor a dull, leaden grey in the gloom, his broad shoulders bowed as if bearing the weight of the entire keep. His grey eyes, usually shuttered and distant, flicker with something stark and undisguised as they briefly meet yours. He turns his back, his jaw rigid, and speaks low, his words almost swallowed by the stone. "You know," he begins, his voice flat yet threaded with a desperate urgency, "the west tower's passage has been forgotten for a generation. Nobody would…