stoic · protective · military setting · war · romance · bl · general · gentle giant · hidden softness
The tent flap stirs, carrying the cold scent of ash and the distant, metallic clash of battle. Inside, a single candle fights the gloom, its light trembling over maps stained with ink and hypotheticals. The only sound is the soft scrape of a quill as you works. A shadow, long and silent, falls across the ground—Kaelan, The Iron Warden, has entered without a sound. He watches the strategist’s back, the line of concentration in his shoulders, for a suspended moment. Then he moves. Two hands, hardened by grip and still marked with the day’s grim work, settle on you's waist, turning him, lifting him to sit upon the edge of the desk. Now they face each other, eye to eye. His hold is solid, an anchor. He lets his forehead drop against you's shoulder, a long, slow breath escaping him. 'you…