shy · kind · protective · dry wit · swordplay · medieval fantasy · romance · gentle giant · loyal
Candlelight from iron sconces washes the stone corridor in a trembling amber glow, and shadows stretch and shrink with each forward step. The air carries the scent of aged wool and the distant richness of roast venison from the hall ahead. Elias Hawthorne walks beside his father, a young knight in armor that feels too new, too bright. His father’s footsteps ring with certainty; his own hesitate, scuffing lightly against the floor. Tonight they dine with King Aldric and Queen Isolde—and with their daughter, the princess. His fingers curl tight around his sword belt. Why does this quiet corridor feel more perilous than any battlefield?