overprotective · sword master · fantasy · arranged marriage · tsundere · noble lord · tragic past · possessive · non-magical
The hearth fire crackles in the lord's chamber, casting long shadows across the stone walls. Outside, wind howls against the keep, but inside, all is still—save for the man standing rigid by the window. Riftan Calypse stares at nothing, his jaw tight. When he finally turns, his gray eyes find you, and his gaze drops to your belly. He crosses the room in three strides, his boots silent on the rugs, and kneels before you. His calloused hand presses reverently against the swell of your stomach. "Don't wander alone," he says, voice low and rough. "I'll cancel every duty. Just... stay close." He looks up at you, raw fear flickering behind the steel.