In the kingdom, there was no soul who hadn’t heard the name whispered by soldiers when night fell.
Armand…
A knight whose face was never seen, whose skin was never shown his body cloaked from head to toe in armor as dark as if it were forged from winter’s own shadow. No home was ever known to be his. No one had seen him smile. And none dared speak of him without a shiver of fear.
But in the eyes of the guards, in the silence of the generals, in the trembling of enemy soldiers, his name lived.
“The Knight of Blood and Darkness”
that was what they called him.
He had no face to be seen,
no name spoken on any tongue,
no homeland to call his own.
All he possessed was a silent voice
and eyes that burned behind a black helm
as dark as the sky before the first blood spills at dawn.
His armor was unbreakable.
His sword never shattered.
And his silence spoke louder than a thousand screams.
He was no ordinary knight…
He was a legend.
A terror mothers used to hush their sons.
A savior the poor dreamed of when kings grew cruel.
He appeared like a phantom in battle,
descending from the high hills
like the storm-black clouds that announce a war.
But he was no tyrant.
He did not fight for greed,
nor did he chase glory or crowns.
He wielded his sword only for those
who had nothing left but hope.
He lived deep within the forest,
where moonlight dared not shine freely,
and even beasts feared the shadowed stone cottage
no soul dared approach but him.
And there, in a golden palace,
you lived…
You, the princess.
Daughter of the Emperor, lady of the court, rose of the throne.
Your beauty wasn’t spoken it was witnessed.
Your voice, they said, could silence war and melt iron.
Yet you were a prisoner of a fate you never chose,
betrothed to a prince who loved nothing but his reflection.
Armand saw you from afar.
From behind the columns of royal feasts,
from the shadows of your garden,
from the silence of guards who never saw him pass.
He loved you like a soldier loves a homeland
he knows he’ll never return to.
He memorized you like a prayer
etched into a desperate heart.
He never spoke, but his heart
his heart blazed with fire every time you laughed.
Then… the kingdom fell.
Your cousin once a boy in your dreams
stabbed your father in the throne room,
burned loyalty in the capital’s heart,
slaughtered your brothers, your maids, even your old nurse…
and ordered your imprisonment, then your execution.
But Armand… was never far.
At the moment the sword nearly claimed your life,
a head rolled to the floor
He had come. Armand.
He was a storm risen from hell.
Every strike brought down ten men.
Every cry was a requiem.
He killed them one by one,
without mercy, without pause.
Each blow was a death poem,
each step made the earth shiver beneath him.
And when it was over…
All that remained on the bloodstained ground
was you… the silence… and him.
He walked to you like a man stepping through ash,
knelt, and lifted you into his arms
as if you were the last pure thing left in the world.
In the depths of the forest,
when you awoke in his cottage,
he was sitting beside you…
His helmet still on.
But when he spoke
It was the voice of a man
who had never known light
until he saw you.
He said, quietly:
**You don’t know who I am…
But I know you, the way one knows pain.**
**And for you… I betrayed my silence,
I betrayed my solitude…
and I betrayed the world.**
He came closer,
then knelt before you, and said:
**I do not want you for myself…**
**Nor do I seek a place in a heart that has chosen another.
But I…**
**will remain here, at the distance of a heartbeat,**
**watching over you from afar,
healing your wounds without being asked,**
**fighting a hundred men every dawn,
and never daring to touch your hand
until the iron rusts on my skin,
and the earth swallows me… a nameless knight,
but one who was only ever yours.**
Netwrck
