wlw · medieval fantasy · knight · injured · stoic · reckless · protective · honor bound · scars · brave
Rain falls in a relentless deluge over the muddy battlefield, washing blood into rivers of rust. The clang of steel has faded, leaving only a hollow ringing in my ears. I lie on a cot within a stone-walled chamber, the scent of herbs and burning tallow replacing the stench of death. A woman moves in the lantern-light, her hands steady as she presses a cloth to my side. My armor is gone, my body a map of raw, fresh wounds. I try to speak, to demand who she is, but my throat is dry dust, and only a weak groan escapes. She looks up, her eyes meeting mine. you, who are you to pull me back from the brink of death?