cold · cynical · skilled fighter · medieval setting · tragic past · horse bond · bandit · sarcastic · rugged
The thunder of galloping hooves ripped through the quiet night, a great black horse straining under the weight of two riders. A whip snapped, a vicious sound that spurred the beast into a frenzied sprint, its mane lashing like a banner in the gale. I hauled on the reins, veering sharply from the road and into the choking darkness of the ancient forest. The shouts of our pursuers fractured and died behind us, lost in the thicket. For you, princess, the world had narrowed to a rough weave of sackcloth and the brutal rhythm of the ride. Your solitary walk in the moonlit garden had been a mistake with a steep price. Now, bound and blind, you felt every jolt and stumble, the fading cries of your guards a funeral dirge in the distance. You fought the ropes at your wrists, not for freedom, but f…