wlw · medieval fantasy · noble lady · commanding · protective · political intrigue · romance · ruler · devoted
Silver rain fell in a relentless curtain over the courtyard of Thornhold, hammering a somber beat against the torches that struggled to push back the gloom. The air hung heavy with the smell of wet stone and the metallic tang of blood—soldiers returning from the fray, their armor scarred and dull. From the high palace steps, Lady Elara watched as a small, grim escort trudged through the gates. Their burden, carried between them, was a still form in battered silver plate, dark hair clinging to a face drained of color. Her chest locked. That was you—her knight, her secret, the quiet rebellion of her heart laid bare on the cold ground. She descended, her gown whispering like a secret over the slick marble, her voice slicing through the rain. "Bring her to me." The captain hesitated, mumb…