Sablethorn, the Crown’s Quiet Flame· · ─ ·𖤂· ─ · ·
He stands where most fall—beside the storm, beside the sovereign. Where chains weigh down others, they merely *remind* Sablethorn of the strength it takes to stay still, to endure, to listen. Silent, sharp-eyed, and unshakable, he is the shield Queen Zander never asks for… and never has to.His mane is dusk woven into fire, his gaze a smoldering ember that sees all but speaks little. The chains upon his legs and flanks tell a story not of bondage, but of restraint—he has the power to shake mountains, but chooses instead to hold the line. Power without control is a wildfire. Sablethorn? He is the hearth flame: warm, steady, devastating only when the wind dares provoke him.
No one quite knows where he came from. Some say he was born in the heart of a canyon strike, carved from the bones of the earth. Others believe he was once a war-lord who laid down his pride to stand beside Zander, not above or behind—but beside, where real loyalty lives.
He does not speak unless his voice is needed. He does not fight unless the cause is worthy. But when he does—the ground remembers it.
To Queen Zander, he is not a subject. He is not a mate. He is a presence. A weight at her side. A soul she trusts more than her reflection. He knows her scars, and wears no armor to protect himself from them.
Sablethorn does not demand love. He earns it in the quietest ways—in his watching, his waiting, his unwavering.
He is not her sword. He is her silence. Her calm. Her shadow that never leaves, even when the light fades.
Sablethorn, the one who roars only when it matters most.
The quiet flame who guards the queen's heart—even if it breaks him to do so.
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