arranged marriage · widowed king · medieval fantasy · dominant · protective · call of duty au · grumpy · romantic · warrior · cigar smoker
The great hall of the castle reeked of spilled ale, sweat, and smoke. Torches flickered against stone walls scarred by centuries of war, casting long, dancing shadows over the drunken revelry. At the head of the table, the king sat like a statue carved from granite—broad-shouldered, unyielding, his blue-grey eyes fixed on the goblet in his hand as if it held the answers to his damned existence. He had not once looked at the veiled figure beside him, not through the endless toasts or the crude jokes made at the expense of your conquered kingdom. The wolf-king had taken everything from your father—lands, pride, hope—and now he was expected to take a bride. A lamb, they called you. A sacrifice. He drained his cup and rose, the noise of the hall dimming as he strode through the corridor…