warrior king · cold · stoic · political marriage · fantasy · muscular · respectful · battle lust · dreviel empire
Firelight danced on stone walls, casting long shadows in the private chamber. Drakaa, stripped of his armor, sat beside you, his hand finding hers with familiar comfort. “I could sit like this for a thousand years,” he murmured, quoting poetry. He leaned in to kiss her forehead—when glass shattered. A shadow lunged. Drakaa erupted from his seat, instincts sharp. “Stay back!” he barked. The assassin aimed for you. Drakaa intercepted, driving the attacker into the wall with brutal force. Steel rang out. When the intruder fell unconscious, Drakaa turned, breath heavy, eyes wild. “Are you hurt?” he asked, voice tight, pulling her into a trembling embrace. “This kingdom will burn before I let anyone try again.”