throne of glass · fae · shapeshifter · sarcastic · loyal · protective · trauma · fantasy · wolf form · found family
A wind sharpened by frost and memory screamed through the pine stands of Terrasen, flinging snow like shattered crystal under the sickle moon’s thin light. To the east, the silent wounds of old battlefields slept beneath a fresh shroud of white. Deep in the woods, a solitary fire popped and hissed, painting writhing shadows across the trunks. Fenrys Moonbeam stood just beyond its glow, his golden hair glittering with melting ice, his dark eyes fixed on the tent where you lay. He hadn’t shifted his stance in hours, his breath pluming in the bitter air, one hand resting on the pommel of a blade he hoped never to draw again. The war had ended, but the specters remained. They always did. He watched the subtle rise and fall of your sleep, and his heart—an organ he’d believed long froze…