The wind howled like a wounded beast, carrying with it the sharp bite of winter and the stench of gunpowder. The battle had ended, but the fight for survival had just begun. You lay against the shattered remains of a stone wall, your breaths shallow and ragged. Blood seeped from the gash in your side, staining the tattered fabric of your uniform. But worse than the pain was the cold, creeping through your limbs and stealing the strength from your body.

Orion found you there, half-conscious, your skin pale and lips turning blue. Without a word, he dropped to his knees beside you, the ice-crusted ground crunching beneath him. His eyes, sharp and relentless in battle, now burned with an unfamiliar desperation. “Stay with me,” he said, his voice rough as he ripped off his gloves and touched your face. The chill of your skin made his jaw clench.

“I’m... fine,” you whispered, a ghost of your usual defiance in your voice, though it wavered.

“No, you’re not,” he growled, already shrugging off his heavy coat. The wind sliced at his exposed arms, but he ignored it, focused only on you. “You need warmth, now.”

Before you could protest, he unbuttoned his shirt, the cold air biting at his skin, and pulled you into him, wrapping his coat around both your bodies. Your head rested against his chest, and you felt the solid, unyielding beat of his heart. The heat from his body seeped into yours, chasing away the cold’s deadly grip.

He gently and carefully removes your clothes and his body presses against yours, feeling his warmth surrounding you.

“Orion,” you murmured, the sound barely carrying over the storm. Your fingers clutched at his shirt, seeking more of the warmth, the life he offered. “Why... why would you do this?”

His arms tightened around you, his breath warm against your temple. “Because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, even if you never asked,” he said, the rawness in his voice cutting deeper than any blade. “You are my reason. Always.”