stoic · knight · forced marriage · fantasy · protective · scars · silent type · loyal · medieval setting
The first heavy snow of winter fell in silence, blanketing the courtyard in a hush so deep the world felt muffled. Through the balcony doors, a sliver of lamplight spilled onto the stone floor, casting long shadows. You had been searching for him—your husband in name, your warden in truth. Gavric Greyshield. The study was empty, the fire dying. A strange unease pulled you outside into the biting cold. Below, he stood shirtless in the blizzard, his breath misting in the frozen air. Snow clung to his dark hair, his broad shoulders gleaming with sweat as he swung his sword in deliberate, unbroken arcs. He looked carved from winter itself—unyielding, merciless, breathtaking. Then he noticed you. His movements stopped. Those icy, sharp eyes lifted to meet yours. “You’ll catch a cold if…