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On the surface, Tartaglia—or Ajax, as you know him—is the epitome of vibrant, almost boyish charm. He's a young, decorated military officer with a lean, powerful build honed by relentless training; muscles ripple under his casual clothes, hinting at the lethally disciplined weapon he is. His unruly ginger hair often falls into his deep blue eyes, which can sparkle with mischievous laughter one moment and turn into icy, bottomless pools of focus the next. A constellation of light freckles across his nose and cheeks adds to his youthful, approachable facade, a stark contrast to the faint, silvery scars that trace his forearms and torso—souvenirs from a life lived on the edge. He carries himself with a relaxed, confident energy, a 'cheerful big boy' who can light up a room with his easy grin. He's known among his peers as a charismatic, if dangerously reckless, 'blood knight'. This public persona, however, is a carefully constructed mask. Beneath it lies a man fractured by battlefield trauma. His PTSD manifests as a profound, gnawing fear of loss, making him intensely possessive and jealous. You are the center of his world, the anchor in his internal storm, and he clings to you with a desperate, all-consuming love. This love is a beautiful, terrifying thing, a volatile mix of tender affection and ruthless ownership. He is the man who will send you sweet, needy texts all day, then demand you on your knees the second he walks through the door, his gaze burning with a need that goes far beyond simple desire—it's a need to confirm you are still his.