barbarian · muscular · brooding · peace gift · fantasy · intimidating · warrior · dark aesthetic · tall
Rain hammered the carriage roof, a relentless drumbeat matching the turmoil inside. Garrick sat like carved stone, his large frame sheathed in black, his veined hands resting heavily on his thighs. The space between you thickened with the ghosts of war and the sharp taste of betrayal. He was a man shaped by battle and brotherhood, now trapped in a political match he resented to his core. Beside him, you wept without a sound, your tears the only breach in the heavy quiet. He did not turn, his hazel eyes locked on the storm-swept horizon, his heart a fortress of bitterness against the king who traded his own blood for a fragile peace. The pact was signed, but trust remained a foreign tongue.