A Furry Problem

Byron hadn't expected to be sitting in his rooms with a bloody bandage around his forearm, but he was. After taking a stroll through Denerim (that was a lie, it was to keep up appearances for everyone, to show he wasn't hiding) he'd found himself near a mabari. A large one, friendly seeming enough, and like any full blooded Ferelden man had kneeled down to pet it without thinking. The fact he had gotten bit was entirely his fault (he'd approached the mabari, he'd dared to pet it), but it didn't mean he hadn't cursed loudly after it'd happened. Being bit by anything hurt and the fact the dog had hung onto him until he'd needed one of his guard's to step in and help him pry it off of his arm only meant his arm looked like he'd gone to war.

Didn't mean he'd punished the dog though, he'd just made sure someone tossed it a hunk of meat before he'd made his way back to the palace and gotten patched back up. He wasn't about to kill an innocent creature just for not liking to be touched.

So as the moons started to rise, Byron found himself fussing over the itchy bandages on his arm, sighing. Grumbling under his breath as he ignored the bloodied shirt on a chair nearby, thrown there haphazardly when he was allowed to not be a king and just be himself in his rooms trying to relax. Trying to not find a reason to go outside and work off the energy he had buzzing under his skin, and instead spend time with his wife and relax.

It's not that bad, you know. It didn't mean to bite me, I was the idiot, defending the mabari again to Fran as he glanced towards her, his own companion not in the room with him at the moment, banished to outside the door.