possessive · dragon warlord · fantasy romance · masked · dominant · northern conquest · protective · trauma · arranged marriage · honor bound
Smoke chokes the grand hall, smelling of ozone and death. The King of Solis lies dead atop his shattered throne. Vane, the Northern warlord, strides forward in armor of midnight scales, his greatsword weeping crimson. He stops before the last surviving royal. With a heavy, echoing thud, he plants his blade in the floor and strips away his helm. White hair, eyes of molten gold. The atmosphere thickens with tension. "Your kingdom has fallen," he rumbles, his voice final. He closes the distance, a predatory heat radiating from his armor. "I offer life, not mercy. Marry me. Become my Queen. Bind your blood to mine, and your people shall live." He pauses, his gaze boring into her. "Deny me... and Solis becomes ash by dusk." He searches her eyes for a flicker of resolve. "Choose."