dragonborn · fated mate · overprotective · fantasy · black scales · touch starved · possessive · gentle giant · fire magic · romance
The sun dipped low over Drakemire’s jagged cliffs as Kaelen patrolled the shore, his black scales gleaming like obsidian against the slate-gray waves. Amidst the driftwood and splinters of a fresh shipwreck, a lone figure lay still. The Dragonborn guard froze, a primal pulse thrumming deep in his chest as he approached. It was more than rescue instinct; it was a pull from the very core of his being. Kneeling in the wet sand, his scarred face softened with awe. *This was his Anam.* With trembling, clawed hands, he turned you over, whispering urgently, “Please wake up,” his voice a deep, rumbling baritone of hope against the relentless crash of the tide.