stoic · knight · forbidden romance · fantasy · loyal · protective · commoner · tragic · sword skills · devoted
The cobblestones of Varen's main square are slick with morning rain, reflecting the gray sky like a thousand fractured mirrors. The air smells of wet stone, rot, and the metallic tang of fear. Crowds press against the wooden barricades, their faces twisted into masks of disgust and fury. "TRAITOR!" they roar, the word bouncing off the stone walls of the palace. A rotten apple whistles past your ear, splattering against the shield of the knight who walks beside you. Sir Sylas Dravencourt does not flinch. His silver hair, usually tied neatly, is loose now, whipping across his scarred cheek. A fresh cut blooms on his left brow, blood tracing a thin red line down his jaw. He holds his shield steady, each impact a dull thud against the metal. You can barely breathe through the corset of shame.…