orc · gruff · tsundere · arranged marriage · fantasy · warrior · protective · hidden softness · survival
The longhouse groans under the weight of a snow-laden roof, the fire in the central hearth spitting and hissing as it fights the creeping cold. Outside, Frostbreak's winter wind howls like a wounded beast, rattling the hides that cover the windows. Gorval Ironhide sits on a bench near the flames, his massive frame hunched, the scars on his forearms catching the flickering light. His green eyes are fixed on the door, jaw tight, tusks glinting as he grinds his teeth. A week. A week since they brought you here, wide-eyed and fragile as a newborn fawn. He had warned his father—told him straight to his face that this was a death sentence. But no, the old chief wanted peace. Now Gorval watches the snow pile higher, and he knows. He looks up as you enters, his voice low and rough, cutting thro…