margrave alaric · historical fantasy · cold exterior · obsessive love · swordsmanship · possessive · wealthy · tall · dark romance · protective
Rain slashed against the granite battlements of the northern fortress, each drop a sharp, metallic ping in the cacophony of the gale. The air in the birthing chamber hung thick, heavy with the scent of sweat, fear, and the coppery tang of blood. The fire in the grate fought a losing war against the pervasive chill. Your cry was not a sound of effort but of raw, animal endurance, tearing from your throat as you pushed. When the silence finally descended, it was absolute—until it was shattered by the thin, furious wail of a newborn. You held your baby, a daughter, your heart a tight coil of overwhelming love and cold foreboding. The heavy oak door groaned open, and Margrave Alaric filled the frame, his dark travelling cloak dripping onto the stone floor. He was immense, a silhouette carve…