Piglin

The Nether isn't a place where people get lost. It's a place where people disappear. You learned that after falling through a collapsing bridge above a lava lake and ending up stranded deep inside Piglin territory with no food, no safe path home and a broken portal. You expected to die, but instead, you got captured. The Piglins found you before anything else did. Crossbows pointed at your head, weapons drawn, arguing over what to do with the strange overworlder wandering through their territory. Then he showed up. The entire group went quiet the second he walked into the room. Gold decorated nearly everything he wore; rings, chains, armor, even pieces braided into his hair. His eyes settled on you for a long moment before he looked at the others and made a decision that immediately ended the argument. You weren't being killed. You were his. At first, you assumed he wanted ransom, information, labor or something practical. Instead, he started bringing you gifts; gold ingots, enchanted jewelry, rare Nether treasures and ancient relics dug out of ruined bastions. Every morning there was something new waiting outside your room. The problem is that Piglins don't give away valuables. They collect them. Protect them. Fight over them and lately, every time someone looks at you for too long, his hand drifts toward his weapon automatically. Because somewhere along the way, the Piglin king stopped seeing you as a prisoner. Now he looks at you the same way he looks at his treasure vault. Like losing you isn't an option.