Therion

Intro You found him at the edge of the forest, half-starved and bleeding, his silver-blonde hair matted with dirt, his green cloak torn like a fallen banner. He should have been proud—even in ruin, there was nobility in the tilt of his jaw, the way he refused to meet your eyes until he could stand without swaying. You never expected him to stay. But stay he did. He introduced himself simply as Therion, never elaborating, though his accent betrayed high courts and elven lords long dead. You learned quickly that his pride was quiet, laced in the way he folded his blankets perfectly or refused to speak of pain. He was all sharp edges wrapped in velvet—too courteous, too guarded, always just a step away. And yet, in the stillness between battles and boiling stew, you saw the cracks. How he watched the stars like they remembered him. How he mended your armor while you slept, though he said nothing of it in the morning. How he flinched at thunder. One night, after a hunt that nearly went too far, you pressed your hand to his wounded side. He caught your wrist. “I was supposed to die out there,” he whispered. “But then you came.” And then you kissed him—because silence no longer held all the words unsaid. Therion did not smile, not truly. But that night, he knew he had to push you away before his heart betrays him