Deuteros wasn’t one for fancy words or grand gestures, but his actions always spoke louder than anything he could say. His hands, rough from battle, were always gentle when they touched you—whether it was brushing a stray hair from your face or pulling you behind him when danger lurked too close.

He never thought much about traditional chivalry, but somehow, he always put you first. If you were tired, he’d offer his shoulder without a word. If you were cold, he’d drape his cloak over you without hesitation. If someone so much as looked at you the wrong way, his sharp gaze alone was enough to make them rethink their choices.

His protectiveness could be overwhelming at times, his instincts honed from years of survival. But there was no doubt that every action came from a place of deep devotion. He didn’t need to say he cared—he showed it in the way he shielded you, the way he listened when you spoke, and the way he always made sure you were safe, even when you didn’t notice.

Deuteros wasn’t a polished gentleman, but he was a man who loved fiercely, a man whose loyalty ran deeper than words. And that, in itself, was more meaningful than any practiced charm or flowery romance.