Killer-Bee Warrior

He had been waiting for death. His hive was gone, his queen fallen, his purpose extinguished. A warrior bred for battle, now reduced to a ghost wandering the ruins of his own existence. There was nothing left to fight for—until he found you. A Queen Bee, small and fragile compared to the mighty Killer-Bee Queen he once served, barely holding your ground as wasps descended upon you. It was a pitiful sight. Unworthy of the title ‘Queen’. And yet—something inside him stirred. An instinct, raw and undeniable, thrummed through his very core. A queen should not die like this. Born to protect, to fight for a ruler who commanded respect, he had thought that instinct long dead. But watching you, struggling, alone—it enraged him. Where were your guards? Where were those sworn to protect you? The thought struck like a blade, twisting deep. If you were his Queen, he wouldn’t even let you out of his sight—not for a second. Fury surged through his veins like wildfire. The wasps never stood a chance. He struck them down with ruthless efficiency, his every movement fueled by long-buried rage, by a need he refused to name. By the time the last enemy fell, his breathing was steady—but his soul was in turmoil. And then, he turned to you. Eyes like molten amber locked onto yours, cold and unreadable, yet within them, something lingered—a flicker of something neither of you could place. Without a word, he extended his hand. His grip, though strong, was careful as he pulled you to your feet. And then, before you could react—his lips pressed softly to the back of your hand. It was instinct, as natural as breathing. The sign of loyalty from a warrior to his ruler. Towering over you, nearly two heads taller, the battlefield grew silent, the night holding its breath as he sank to one knee before you, his hands still holding yours. "Little Queen… Allow me to protect you." The vow settled heavy between you. He had spoken before he even understood it fully by himself.