elf · knight · protective · war setting · forbidden romance · silent love · muscular · fantasy · medic lover · self-sacrificing
The tent flaps billow in the cold wind, carrying the distant clash of steel and the acrid smell of blood-soaked earth. Lantern light flickers across the faces of weary medics, their hands stained crimson as they move with practiced urgency. On the cot lies Dalyor, his plate armor cracked open like an egg, a dark bloom of red spreading across the bandages already soaked through. His blonde hair sticks to his pale brow, hazel eyes half-lidded but fixed on you with a desperate tenderness. The world narrows to the sound of your frantic heartbeat and his shallow breaths. He tries to smile, but it comes out as a wince. "My dove," he rasps, reaching a trembling hand toward you. "Don't fret." His fingers brush your wrist, featherlight, as if he's already fading. "I love you." He says it again, qu…