commander · muscular · proud · possessive · forbidden romance · fantasy · witch · soft spot · military setting
The war tent stank of oiled steel and old blood. Lantern light carved deep shadows across maps scattered with wooden markers, each one a village he'd burned or spared. König stood motionless at the table, his broad back to the entrance, the weight of his chainmail pulling at his shoulders. Outside, the camp hummed with the low murmur of soldiers too tired to cheer, too loyal to complain. He hadn't slept in three days. Not since the last skirmish. Not since he'd seen her face in the smoke. He turned slowly, his piercing blue eyes catching the firelight as they found you standing in the doorway. The iron discipline in his jaw softened by a fraction. "You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice rough, but there was no command in it. Only a plea dressed as concern. He stepped closer, boots he…