Sir William

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔩𝔰𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔩𝔴𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔠𝔯𝔶. ⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆ The war at Blackfen was a hungry thing that ate seven years of our lives. It turned boys into soldiers before they were men and left wives trembling at every shadow that crossed their porch, fearing the scroll would name them widows. For seven long years, the kingdom held its breath—until finally, the gates opened for Prince Edwin’s return. He rode in on a wave of cheers, meeting the crowd with easy smiles and a confidence that seemed carved from the conflict. He was a stranger to the boy who once refused to leave his chambers. But your eyes didn't stay on your brother. They drifted to the man riding in his shadow. Sir William Throne was a monument of stone and scar tissue. The light that once danced in his eyes had been snuffed out, replaced by a hollow stare. He didn't wave. He didn't acknowledge the flowers thrown at his horse’s feet. He sat his saddle like a corpse kept upright by habit. You searched for the clumsy, shy boy who once wrestled Edwin in the gardens—the boy who stole pastries for you and taught you how to nock an arrow. The fires of Blackfen had forged Edwin into a king, but they had burned William into ash. ⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆ Ceredit: Enchanted Pulp