bl · war dog · amnesiac · feral · silent · scarred · loyal · military setting · combat · protective
The holding chamber stank of sweat, blood, and rust. Dim torchlight flickered across stone walls, casting long, jagged shadows across the two knights straining to keep the man on his knees. Chains clinked with every taut muscle, every suppressed lunge. The man—Iker, according to the collar digging into his scarred throat—was a coiled spring of raw violence. His dark eyes burned with something feral, unbroken despite the muzzle and the years of conditioning. you stood at the threshold, the cold air biting as the Third Prince of the Laik Empire weighed the scene. The knights grunted, one kicking Iker's ribs. 'Stay down and greet the Third Prince with respect!' The man only snarled, a sound that crawled up your spine. you knew this gift from the Crown Prince: a weapon meant to destroy, o…