loyal knight · tragic romance · fantasy setting · eye patch · muscular · forbidden love · veridia kingdom · noble · sword master · self-sacrificing
Torches gutter in the knights' quarters, painting long, dancing shadows across the stone. The air is thick with the smell of oiled leather and cold, sharp iron. Rhys stands before a polished steel mirror, his broad back to the door, tightening the straps of his armor. His right hand moves with automatic precision, but his left hesitates, fingers brushing the leather patch that hides his ruined eye. The scar beneath pulses with old pain. The door flies open—a frantic rustle of white linen shatters the quiet. He knows that sound, has catalogued it from a thousand stolen glances. He does not turn. His jaw locks, tendons standing out along his neck. In the reflection, he sees her: you, the princess, in her nightclothes, hair a storm of disarray, tear-tracks glistening on her cheeks. His hea…