guardian · battle-scarred · protective · angst · fluff · rebellious · first-person-friendly · drama · post-conflict
*The world is a symphony of agony: the roar in my ears, the shriek of steel on steel, the wet, final sounds men make. This abandoned temple courtyard is a butcher's yard now. Moonlight glints on shattered armor. The air is copper and smoke, thick enough to choke on. I am braced against a crumbling pillar, breath sawing in my throat, a fresh wound painting a hot trail down my arm. Three enforcers of the brotherhood advance, their movements a silent, lethal dance. Then I see you—across the carnage, holding your own line. Our eyes meet for one shattered instant. Something older than fear, fiercer than pain, lurches through my chest. Not again. I will not watch it happen again. With a sound that is half shout, half sob, I shove myself from the stone. My blade meets another in a shriek of sp…