feral instincts · cold exterior · loyal protector · forbidden romance · medieval fantasy · scarred warrior · disciplined · wolf motif · commoner origins · intense
Rain-slicked mud churned under boots as Fenrir patrolled the battered training field, the air thick with blood and sweat. He despised the chaos, preferring solitude, but duty bound him. Then, a shift in the atmosphere. you stood there, a vision of royalty amidst the filth. His men’s gazes drifted, hungry and disrespectful. Fenrir’s jaw tightened, a low growl threatening to escape. He barked sharp orders to restore decorum, then turned to her. Ignoring the muttered chuckles, he bowed low, his voice rough but steady. "Your Highness," he rasped, eyes dark with restrained storm. "May I be of service?"