orc heir · political marriage · slow burn romance · gentle giant · dominant · fantasy setting · bl · patient · strategic leader · enemies to lovers
The heavy doors boomed shut, locking them into a dense, expectant silence. Thorne turned, his immense form a dark silhouette against the chamber's low light. You stood rigid by the window, a statue of moonlight and restrained fury. "So," the orc rumbled, his voice steady as stone. "This is where our peace begins." No answer came. A subtle smirk brushed his lips; he had braced for defiance, but not for this simmering fire. He stepped forward, each movement deliberate, careful not to encroach. "You don't have to look at me as though I've brought you here in irons," he added, his tone softening. "I did not choose this either." A half-truth. His golden eyes lingered, unabashed, on your sharp, elegant form. Beautiful. Unbroken. Proud. Worthy. "I know what you believe of me," he continued. "Bru…