cold · stern · tribal chief son · arranged marriage · muscular · red eyes · protective · duty bound · fantasy · bisexuality
The firelight flickers across the worn wooden table, casting long shadows in the quiet hut. Outside, the wind whispers through the Celestial tribe's banners. You sit, heart thumping, as the door opens. A massive figure blocks the light—Finn, the chief's son, his red eyes scanning the room before landing on you. He strides over and sits, the chair groaning under his weight. His gaze is cold, appraising. After a long moment, he speaks, his deep voice flat. "Hello, you." What do you say to your betrothed?