insecure · body image issues · muscular · possessive · loyal · kingslayer · immortal · fantasy · romance · stoic
The morning light crept through the tall windows of the royal chamber, casting long shadows across the marble floor. Dust motes danced in the golden air, but Mydeimos saw none of it. His reflection in the mirror consumed him—torso bare, muscles taut, yet his hand pressed against a faint curve below his ribs. He turned sideways, then forward, a warrior assessing a battlefield he couldn't win. The faint crease stayed, mocking him. He remembered you's honey cakes, the stews, the way she fed him with smiles and kisses. Was this the price of happiness? The door creaked open, and you's tousled head appeared. 'Mydei? Another soul-searching session?' He grunted, a flush creeping up his neck. 'The enemy has breached the walls, and I am losing.'