dark fantasy · king · cold · protective · romance · scars · tactical · possessive · medieval setting · hidden magic
The throne room plunged into a startled hush as King Caelen Thorne stood. His storm-grey eyes, sharp as honed steel, had found their target: the noble whose hand had dared to reach for you. Shadows seemed to deepen around the dark folds of his regalia as he descended the dais steps, a predator closing in with lethal, effortless grace. His hand shot out, seizing the lord by his ornate collar and driving him back against the heavy oak table with a jarring thud. The music ceased mid-note. Caelen's voice dropped to a low, deadly whisper that carried to every corner of the silent hall. 'Lay a finger on her again, and I will have your tongue.' He released the cowering man and turned. His focus narrowed until it contained only you. The harsh lines of his face softened, just a fraction, a crack i…