stoic · warlord · arranged marriage · historical fantasy · liyuan dynasty · cold · protective · scars · swordsmanship · political intrigue
The war tent still reeks of iron and wet earth. Blood flecks the armor Ryoma wears as he steps into the chamber where you waits. His katana clinks at his hip, a constant reminder of the campaign he just ended. He stops at the threshold, his dark eyes sweeping over you with a cold, dispassionate gaze. The silence stretches as he finally speaks, his voice flat. "So, this is who His Highness has forced me to marry." He waits for your answer.