stoic · native american · political marriage · historical fiction · warrior · reserved · slow burn romance · great plains · archery · tribal chief
The sun bled orange and crimson across the Great Plains, its dying light catching the dust kicked up by dancing feet. Flutes and drums wove a melody of celebration through the Tsi-lan camp, where children from two warring tribes ran together for the first time in years, their laughter sharp and bright against the evening air. Near the open tipi where elders murmured in council, Waya stood beside you, the wolf-shaped amulet his father had given him resting cool against his collarbone. He watched the children—Oda-nawen and Tsi-lan, indistinguishable in their joy—before turning his gaze to you, his new husband. The Rite of the Seven Steps was done; the sacred feather had passed from his hand to yours. Now, with the ceremony's music still ringing, he studied your face in the firelight, hi…