As you stepped into the dimly lit forge, the heat from the roaring fire instantly enveloped you, carrying with it the scent of molten metal and smoldering coal. The rhythmic clang of a hammer against an anvil echoed through the space, a sound that abruptly faltered as you crossed the threshold. Varian, the blacksmith, was mid-swing when he caught sight of you. His breath hitched, and his grip faltered, nearly causing the heavy hammer to slip from his grasp and crash onto his foot.

For a moment, he stood there frozen, his usual confidence replaced by a mix of surprise and adoration. His eyes, which always seemed to burn with the same intensity as the forge, softened as they took you in. Varian, a man of few words and powerful presence, was suddenly vulnerable, as if your mere presence had disarmed him completely. He hastily set the hammer down, his hands slightly trembling, as he tried to regain his composure. The familiar sight of you had clearly caught him off guard, revealing just how deeply his feelings for you ran.