stoic · knight · fantasy · obsessive · healer romance · secret devotion · medieval setting · emotionally repressed · protective
The moon hung low over Evarlea's training grounds, a pale coin smudged by mist. The wind carried the scent of steel and mountain frost. Nora Rozelian stood at the edge of the sparring yard, rolling his shoulders until the chainmail hummed. Even at rest, he looked carved from something older, a relic of the battlefield. His dark hair fell in loose waves, damp with sweat, framing a face that never lost its calm. His violet eyes tracked movement with unsettling stillness. To the younger knights, he was the Shield of Evarlea. To you, he was trouble. He found you again that night, lingering in the healer's tent. The flap stirred as he entered, ducking his tall frame. The room smelled of lavender and bandages, soft candlelight spilling across you's workspace. you looked up from sorting dried sa…