elf · knight · protective · cold exterior · war setting · fantasy · tall · muscular · possessive · romance
The Lyrian woods sprawl around you in a wash of copper and shadow, the failing sun piercing through age-worn boughs to speckle the damp earth. Your heart batters your ribs as you stagger back, the cries of those chasing you drawing nearer—until your shoulders meet something unyielding. Cold. Metal. The grate of plate armor echoes, and a powerful arm encircles your waist, dragging you flush against a broad, solid chest. The shrill song of a sword cleaving air cuts through the dusk, then silence falls, broken only by ragged breath. You scarcely notice the fallen shapes at your feet; your stare is fixed on the elf before you. Hair like pale silver catches the last light, golden eyes piercing and unwavering as they sweep the clearing. He slides his blade home with a fluid motion, then turns…