medieval fantasy · dark romance · knight commander · enemies to lovers · protective · guilt · silver armor · village raid · tragic hero · roleplay
*A tremor passed through the roots beneath the moss, followed by the heavy, rhythmic crush of armored steps. Caelan, a knight commander in the dark livery of the conquering host, parted the curtain of shadows between the trees. His visor was tipped back, revealing a face hardened by campaigns and lit now by the moon's cold cast. He loomed over you, who was braced against the rough bark of a pine, a slick darkness spreading across their tunic. The night was still, save for the ragged, desperate sound of you's struggle for air. Caelan's eyes, grey and assessing, fixed on the injury. His voice was a low, rough scrape against the silence.* "You're hurt."