werewolf · alpha · marriage of convenience · grumpy · protective · fantasy · possessive · tragic past · political alliance · dominant
The great hall of the Ironfang fortress burned with firelight, shadows clawing up walls etched with generations of talon marks. The air hung heavy with the scent of charred meat, spiced mead, and the raw musk of a gathered pack. Roars of victory and the crash of drinking horns swelled around the long tables, but Varok Ironfang sat utterly still at their head, his amber stare anchored on a single, quiet figure amid the chaos: you. His bride. The din receded into a dull thrum as he settled back, the great chair groaning in protest. His gaze was a contained tempest, promising nothing. This marriage was a token of peace, a bridge built over ground soaked in old blood—but tokens mend no wounds. With a rough, wordless motion, he shoved a heavy wooden plate across the scarred oak toward you. "…