so here’s me pushing MY agenda by writing about Rowan (blinks cutely)
Rowan doesn’t like to remember the years before you came into his life.
Why would he choose to steep in the guilt of the blood he’s spilt? All under orders from a system that only saw him as a tool? Or the townspeople who should’ve thanked him for his sacrifice, only to instead be branded as a monster?
Why would he choose to remember what it was like to be even below humanity?
To see bodies—comrades, friends—fall to the ground in a battle not started by them, but expected to finish it, and be told to feel nothing?
To have his body battered and torn and forced back together, only to be told to suck it up and jump back into the fight before his ribs could heal, gasping in pain with every swing of his sword?
To recite orders, pledges, decrees to criminals he holds captive that even he, himself, doesn’t believe in, but it’s either his head or theirs?
Maybe there was some light in his life, some fire, a spark, a purpose when he joined.
But Rowan had long since forgotten it, snubbed out by the shattered will that kept him hanging by a thread.
Now, the only light that he wakes up to is not the sun.
Because you don’t twist a blade into his stomach and tell him to choke on his blood for being obsolete. Because you don’t see him fail at asinine tasks like folding a tablecloth and tell him he’s worthless. Because you don’t threaten to take away what little he has because he accidentally broke another wooden spoon.
To you, he is not a sword. A blade meant to be sharpened and discarded after the cracks in the metal form.
To you, he is human. He breathes the same air, looks up at the same sky, bemoans the same weather, and bleeds the same red.
You, who laughs as he accidentally chops down too much fire wood that can’t be stored properly, so you have a big bonfire and spend that night telling stories to your audience of one.
You, who laughs at his struggle to fish with a line and hook, so you trade and barter till you have enough to get a fishing spear and present it to him to make his life easier.
You, who laughs when he has to pick you up so that you can reach the higher forgabkes around the forest, resting on his shoulder as he lifts you up.
There is no scorn, no backlash, no pain that comes from you.
Only joy, laugher, and a calm that Rowan would’ve believed to be a pipe dream had he still been in service.
Perhaps he is selfish to keep the darkness that lingers in him away from you. To shield you from the monstrosities, the horrors he has inflicted.
But, at the end of the day, Rowan is a knight, even in only in spirit. And if he wants to perform his duty, one last time, for the one thing in his life that can garner hope.
Why wouldn’t he covet it all to himself?
“Rowan!” You call out, laughing as you almost trip on your way to him, colliding into Rowan’s body on accident, “Oomph—Look what I got for you!”
Rowan barely grunts at the suddenly collision, but quickly steadies you, placing a hand on your waist, “What is it?”
You gently push yourself to stand properly, before pulling out a (poorly) concealed fishing spear from your back, presenting it to him like it’s the best thing since sliced bread (it is, since it’s a gift from you to him).
“Tada! Now you can get more fish while I forage by the lakes, since I know you don’t like using a fishing rod.” You beam at him, like a dog expecting praise and head pats for rolling over.
Something in Rowan softens as he lets out a small grunt, the corners of his mouths twitching up into a smile as he pats your head, like an owner trying to placate their dog, “…Thank you.”
And if you cheered, jumping in place, at that response, that’s between you and him and your simple, easy life together.
(Except for when Rowan burns a batch of bread!)
DID MY ROWAN AGENGA WORK??? DOES THIS COUNT AS ROWAN PROPOGANDA???
Do you want my account? I'll give it. Merry me?—
How can something be propaganda when it's TRUE!?? IDK WHAT IT IS BUT IT DEFINITELY WORKED
You've encompassed this man so well, he absolutely would hate thinking about his past, at least when he became a knight. If he could he would 100% delete his memories from his knighthood, only keeping his childhood and the present
Also, yes, he absolutely couldn't not fish with a line and hook. I don't know why, but it fits him perfectly
Rowan is yours, anon, he's reserved for you
