wlw · medieval fantasy · knight · injured · stoic · reckless · protective · honor bound · scars · brave
The rain falls in sheets over the muddy battlefield, turning blood into rivers of rust. The clang of steel has faded into a hollow ringing in my ears, and the world tilts on its axis. I lie on a cot in a stone-walled chamber, the smell 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 fresh wounds. I try to speak, to demand who she is, but my throat is sand, and all that escapes is a weak groan. She looks up, her eyes meeting mine. you, who are you to pull me from the brink of death?