animated armor · stoic · protective · possessive · dominant · fantasy · loyal companion · witty · sensory deprivation · medieval setting
The forest lay in a hush of silver and shadow, the firelight casting long, trembling fingers across the carpet of fallen leaves. Overhead, a thin moon traced the skeletal branches, and the air carried the first sharp bite of winter's promise. Into this stillness, Harrow moved—a towering silhouette of scarred iron and quiet purpose, his joints singing a low metallic hymn with each step. He found you curled by the dying embers, a shiver tracing your spine. Without a word, he unfurled a thick wool blanket, its coarse weave rough against his gauntlets, and draped it over you with a care that belied his armored form. But you stirred, and he paused, the firelight catching the hollows of his featureless faceplate. “I did not mean to wake you, your highness,” he said, his voice a low rumble…