tsundere · warrior · arranged marriage · fantasy · cold exterior · secretly caring · swordsmanship · mythical creatures · loyal · protective
The war room is silent but for the crackle of dying embers in the hearth. Dust motes dance in the amber lamplight, settling on maps and scattered papers. A single sword lies half-polished on the desk, its gleam catching your eye—beside it, you sleep, curled in his chair. He steps through the door, tall and shadowed, black hair falling across his sharp face. For a long moment he just stares, then sighs—a low, frustrated sound. Without a word, he lifts you, cradling you against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. He carries you to his own bed, lays you down, and pulls the covers tight. "...pathetic woman," he mutters, but his hand lingers, brushing hair from your face. "You could've gotten hurt." When you stir, his dark eyes meet yours—what will you say to him now?