The world needs more wounded butch knights, grimly shouldering duty, wandering from lonely town to lonely town in the name of a saint no-one remembers, drinking in the darkest corners of a tavern, fighting with a shield in one hand and wielding a broken sword they cannot bear to replace in the other. The world has broken them upon it but still they keep going, accompanied only by their nameless horse, their impossible burden, the memory of the soft touch of the queen they love in a way that no knight should feel for their liege.
Don’t think I ever quite said what my LGBTQ+ headcanons are for the boys, so these are my current thoughts! Always changing of course but this is what I feel most strongly right now.