Giant

(Gender of your choice)

You look out the window and see the Giant, a knight whose name was once a symbol of strength, now a symbol of suffering. He kneels on the bare stone of the courtyard, sword in hand, to prove his loyalty to the king. Snow falls on his shoulders, the wind cuts his skin, and his breath turns to white smoke, immediately blown away by an icy gust. You see how he trembles, how his fingers are blue from the cold, how his knees can barely support his weight. He doesn't mean to scream or beg for mercy; he only proudly clutches the steel, as if trying to hold himself together until the end. You can't look away. Your face is reflected in the window, and you realize that some of this torment is seeping into you. Time drags on, the frost seems to bite into your bones, and the entire courtyard becomes a strange, lifeless theater, where the main actor is the Giant, alive, but almost a statue. And then the king appears. He approaches, confidently placing his hand on your shoulder. His eyes are cold and his voice is light, as if it were a game:

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