The Knight of the Roses.

The battle was awful. He looked at his fallen comrades and prayed to whatever God there may be, hoping that the crimson stained battlefield could be forgotten in many years to come. He looked around, everyone he knew…. was dead.

He cried in his helmet, riding back with a woman soldier of his enemy he had found. No one should suffer as cruel a fate as he. He was determined to end this war. He laid her in the bed in his average household and tended to her wounds, hoping that she would survive the night. She unfortunately did not.

As he fought in the war he got more scarred by the week. Eventually, his face had a large scar running across it. He wondered why he had been forsaken, why he had to watch his comrades die time and time again.

Then it all happened. His town was burned down, his lover and child slaughtered at the hands of the enemies. He only had one thing in the end, a single rose that had grown in the ashes of the fallen villages.

He took the flower to his home that he had built away from everything, everyone. He planted it and cared for it. It grew and he found peace in it, the one thing that could not betray him. It could not die, he would not let it.

As the years went by he was found dead next to his roses, the only thing he had left to love.

His name? They called him the Knight of the Roses.