ñuhī zaldrīzes urnen

Bro, we are cooked. The knight that dogs the prince's shadow like a dark and silent wraith just knelt to press his forehead to the prince's hand. Yeah, now he's uttering a prayer whose recipient is ostensibly God but in reality is the deified version of the prince that exists only in his mind. Aaand the prince just caressed his cheek to preemptively grant him absolution. I gotta... I gotta get out of here.

[sluttily rests my wrist on the pommel of my sword] hi

“i’ll be your sword” okay. and. and im the sheath right. nnghhhh,,,

Alright where's my sheath at

any knight born after 1200 can’t achieve the holy grail, all they know is feasting, charge their horse, kill, have affair, go mad in the forest & cry

sexy knights. sexy wounded knights. sexy wounded weary knights. sexy wounded weary knights in the rain. sexy wounded weary knights in the rain pledging their loyalty to you.