Ember 25, 2999 | 8:44 PM – Ironhowl Kin Estate, Guest Wing
The bedroom was dim, wrapped in warm red light from a low-burning sconce. Grakka lay passed out on Shiro's chest, one leg draped over him possessively. Lena was curled against his side, Zarrah nestled under his arm, and Rena tangled around his legs like a sleeping fox.
A soft vibration buzzed on the side table.
Lena's phone crystal.
Shiro blinked awake, reached for it, and glanced at the caller.
Sable Twins – Kaelyn & Vaelira
He tapped to answer.
"Yo."
A nervous pause. Then, "M-Ms. Lena?"
"Nah," Shiro said, voice still rough with sleep. "This Shiro."
A sharp inhale. Then two voices, overlapping.
"We… we made a mistake…"
Shiro sat up slightly, careful not to disturb the pile of goddesses on him. "Is it serious?"
"…We don't know," Kaelyn said.
"We're sorry," Vaelira added, sniffling.
"Y'all crying?"
"…No," they lied poorly.
He rubbed his face. "Alright, what y'all do?"
"…We spilled some tea on her carpet," one admitted.
"And then tried to clean it with a flame rune," the other confessed. "It made it worse."
"We're so sorry, Master."
Shiro blinked, then chuckled as he stood up carefully and slipped on some pants. "Aight, aight. Calm down. Grab one of the experienced maids. Ask for Milka or Dawn. Don't touch anything else."
"Y-Yes, Master. Thank you, Master!" they chirped, clearly relieved.
Shiro hung up and smirked, grabbing a chilled drink from the kitchen.
"Chaos twins stay causing problems…" he muttered, sipping. "Cute, though."
With everyone asleep and his beast blood still buzzing, Shiro decided to explore.
⸻
9:06 PM – Ironhowl Kin Main Hallways
The estate was quiet now, but still alive. Soft torchlight danced along the stone and metal corridors. He passed by a few night-staff maids, who blushed and looked away quickly when he nodded at them.
"Mornin', ladies," he said smoothly.
"G-Good evening, Master Shiro," one stammered.
Then he turned a corner.
Stopped.
A massive chamber stretched out before him—dimly lit, with weapon racks, aged banners, ancestral armor suits, and carvings etched into the walls like battle murals.
Shiro let out a low whistle. "Damn…"
"You like it?" came a familiar, gravelly voice.
Shiro turned. Brakk.
Grakka's father stood near the center of the room, arms crossed, tusks gleaming slightly under the ceiling lights. His presence alone was like standing next to a mountain.
"Hey there, pops," Shiro said with a cocky smirk.
Brakk scowled. "Don't call me that. I still haven't accepted you."
Shiro shrugged, sipping his drink. "Eh. She loves me. I love her. That's all that matters."
Brakk didn't argue. Instead, he walked over to a massive sword mounted on the wall. "This hall belongs to the warriors of Ironhowl. Each piece belonged to a bloodline protector. Grakka's legacy."
Shiro ran his fingers across a set of old gauntlets. "She ever train here?"
Brakk's voice lowered. "Every day. I watched her grow up. Fierce. Wild. Unshakable. But deep inside? She's like her mother. Delicate. Loving. Soft in ways she won't show most."
He turned toward Shiro.
"I would've preferred she choose an orc. But she didn't. She chose you. So listen close, Beastman…"
Brakk stepped forward, his voice rumbling like distant thunder.
"If you ever hurt her—emotionally, spiritually, physically—I won't just kill you. I'll wage a war that'll make gods think twice. Understood?"
Shiro met his gaze without flinching.
"I don't plan on hurtin' her," he said calmly. "I plan on protecting her 'til I ain't breathin'. So if war's all you got left to threaten me with… you already lost."
A long silence.
Then Brakk grunted and turned away.
"…Hmph. You talk bold. I'll be watching."
Shiro grinned. "Watch all you want. Your daughter already branded me."
He turned to leave, sipping the last of his drink.
Brakk muttered under his breath. "Cocky bastard…"
But his lips twitched.
Almost like a smile.
9:31 PM – Ironhowl Kin Estate, Warrior Hall
Shiro turned to leave after his tense exchange with Brakk, his smirk lingering as he finished his drink.
But as he stepped into the hallway—
A soft voice called behind him, almost sing-song.
"Shiro…"
He turned, blinking.
Grakka's mother stood at the end of the hall. Small. Gorgeous. Radiating calm warmth like the sun after battle. Her silky robe shimmered with woven tribal glyphs, her dark eyes playful.
She walked up to him slowly, hands folded behind her back.
"I know you've been exploring," she said with a smile. "That's fine. You're family now… sort of."
He raised an eyebrow. "Sort of?"
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," she teased. "But…"
She leaned in just slightly—close enough for only him to hear—and whispered, "Keep it down next time. Your moans woke half the wing."
Shiro blinked, stunned.
"…My moans?"
She winked. "Hers too. But yours were surprisingly… loud."
He rubbed the back of his neck, blushing slightly. "Ain't no way I was louder than—"
"Shiro," she said, turning to walk away with a satisfied smirk, "you howled."
He stood frozen for a beat, watching her disappear down the corridor like a queen who'd just checkmated him without a sword.
"…Damn," he muttered to himself. "Even her mom got jokes."
And with a slow shake of his head and the faintest grin tugging at his lips, he made his way back toward the sleeping quarters.