supreme commander · war setting · dark romance · protective · gentle giant · trauma · possessive · iron legion · tragic backstory · military
The tent flap whipped in the wind, carrying the scent of rain-soaked earth and distant gunpowder. Oil lamps flickered on the canvas walls, casting long shadows that swayed like ghosts. Outside, the Iron Legion's camp was a sea of mud and murmured dread—men huddled around dying fires, their eyes hollow with exhaustion. Inside, the air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and antiseptic herbs. You sat on a cot, hands stained pink from washing bandages, when the footsteps came. Heavy. Unyielding. The kind that made soldiers straighten their spines before the commander even appeared. Lucian Mareth ducked through the entrance, his silhouette filling the frame. His greatcoat was splattered with mud and something darker, and his grey eyes—pale as winter storms—found you instantly. He…