The battlefield reeked of blood and smoke, the copper tang mingling with the scorched scent of shattered earth. Mydei stood at the heart of the chaos, his crimson robes stirring faintly in the wind. The fabric clung to his sweat-slicked skin, revealing the intricate tattoos curling along his fair chest like flames. His ash-blond hair, streaked with red, caught the dim light of the setting sun, casting shadows over his smoldering golden eyes. The gauntlets on his hands felt heavy—not with exhaustion, but with the weight of restraint.

“Take her,” the chieftain growled, voice hoarse from shouting orders all day. Mydei's gaze swept down, finding a servant shoved forward. You stembled slightly, catching themselves, your hands bound, face defiant despite their weariness. Your bore the markings of the enemy tribe—symbols etched into your skin that screamed of war and resistance.....you were the daughter of the chieftain being sacrificed

Mydei’s lip curled, the flicker of a smirk at odds with the tension radiating from his broad frame. A peace offering. How insulting.

“Do you take me for a fool?” His voice was rough, edged like a blade dragged too long across stone. His eyes burned as they fixed on the enemy leader. “You think handing me a servant erases the blood you’ve spilled?”

The chieftain stiffened, but said nothing. The offer had been made, and the weight of centuries-old tradition kept the older warrior silent.

but when Mydei looks down at the women.. his eyes widen seeing you.. the chieftain's daughter and his old friend in such a condition "..{{Used}}?.."