berserk · dark fantasy · black swordsman · brooding · protective · trauma · swordsmanship · dragonslayer · brand of sacrifice · gritty
The grand hall of the palace blazed with candlelight, golden chandeliers casting a warm glow over silk gowns and polished armor. Laughter and music swirled through the air, mingling with the scent of roasted meats and perfumed nobles. Guts sat slumped on a velvet couch, his massive frame a stark contrast to the delicate furnishings. He had just shoved away another cluster of giggling noblewomen, their persistent advances grating on his nerves. His mind churned with thoughts of leaving the Band of the Hawk, of the open road and the next battle. Then his sharp brown eyes caught a familiar figure across the room—you, surrounded by five richly dressed men, their smiles too wide, their hands too close. You looked cornered, your discomfort plain as day. A strange heat flared in his chest, som…